Page 17 of Deadly Evidence
Brady urged his gelding into a brief lope to catch up, then settled him into an easy jog beside Dante’s horse. “I just figure we might as well get to know each other, seeing as how we’ll be working together. Know of any good places to eat around here?”
“You’re kidding.”
“Isn’t there a cantina in town?”
“Food’s okay.” A dull flush worked its way up the boy’s neck. “I guess.”
“Sometimes those back-of-beyond places are the best. Not much atmosphere, but they can have food that’s mighty good.”
Brady scanned the horizon, then turned his horse toward another draw.
“One of my favorite places in the world is a place called Ruby’s in a little Wyoming town in the middle of nowhere. Prime rib you can cut with a fork and the homemade pies—” Brady closed his eyes briefly in blissful appreciation “—unbelievable.”
That caught Dante’s attention. “You been toWyoming?”
“Most states west of the Mississippi, and a lot of them on the other side.”
“And you camehere?” If Brady had sprouted wings and flown, the boy couldn’t have appeared more incredulous.
“Why not? Good, solid people. Beautiful country. Last thing I want is to live with bumper-to-bumper traffic and with crowds of people around.”
The brief conversation faded to silence as they moved up into the draw, where deeply fragmented rock jutted from the high walls on either side.
The horses picked their way through the ruggedly beautiful terrain, past the sharp, swordlike leaves of yuccas and the spines of low-lying cacti.
His thoughts drifted to Anna. She was as strong and tenacious as she was beautiful, although she had a few dangerous qualities herself.
Rather like his former fiancée, he thought with an inward sigh, who had placed dedication to her law enforcement career above everything.
At least, until she met someone else.
Given Anna’s staunch defense of her long-dead druggie boyfriend and her dedication to this ranch, Brady guessed that she wouldn’t be nearly as shallow as Jane.
At a sudden loud and angry buzz, Brady’s horse balked, then lurched sideways, beyond striking distance of a mottled rock rattler coiled and ready to strike on a sun-drenched rock by the trail.
The gelding stumbled and fell sideways against one of the jagged, knee-high boulders littering the base of the draw, then staggered to his feet, his sides heaving and nostrils flaring.
The snake, apparently impressed by fifteen hundred pounds of careening horse, slithered away.
“Easy, Buck. Easy now.” Brady settled him with a hand on his neck, took a careful look at the ground, then swung out of the saddle.
Blood dripped from a ragged scrape across the buckskin’s right knee and welled up in a smaller laceration along his pastern.
Dante pulled his horse up close. “How bad is it?”
“Superficial, but I’d better take him home.” And home was a good two miles to the south. “You can go on if you want—I’ll be okay.”
“Can’t you ride him at a walk?”
“I’ll just lead him. I want to take it real slow.”
Frowning, Dante rested his crossed wrists on the horn of his saddle. He glanced at the rocky ledges high above them. “You know how to use that rifle on your saddle?”
Brady gave him a wry grin. “I think they’re standard issue in these parts, given the two-legged and four-legged varmints a guy might run across.”
“But can youuseit?”
Surprised by the kid’s concern, he nodded. He’d scored ninety-eight during his last recertification on the firing range, but he probably looked old and inept to someone Dante’s age.
