Page 52 of Deadly Evidence
At the far end of the table, Dante eyed the plate of soft, pillowy pastries covered with cinnamon sugar. Brady nabbed one and slid the plate in his direction.
“Have you had any more trouble at night?” Gil darted a look between Brady and Anna. “I understand you had cattle stolen.”
“We were out yesterday checking the herds. I figure I lost thirty, including a young bull.”
He shook his head in sympathy. “Bad luck.”
“That Brangus bull was new stock. With his bloodlines, I was planning on heavier weaning weights, and it took a bank loan to buy him.”
“A shame. It’s a hard life out here—dealing with drought and predators, not to mention cattle thieves preying on unprotected livestock. One of these days maybe you’ll decide to just throw in the towel and sell out.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not in this lifetime, as you well know.”
“But a young woman like you—” He threw his hands up in obvious frustration. “You deserve much better. An easier life.”
“I’m posting night watch now. At this point, I think I’ll shoot first and ask questions later, and you can tell that to anyone you meet.” She took a long swallow of coffee. “It won’t be easy to market my stolen stock, though—our registered brand and ear notch are tough to alter.”
“Everything still okay over here, Gil?” Brady asked.
“Yes—knock on wood.” He rapped his knuckles on the table, then shifted his attention to Anna. “I’ve got to tell you again, it isn’t a good idea for you to go traipsing out in the—”
“I appreciate your concern, but I can handle things myself, Gil.”
With a quick glance at her watch, she pushed away from the table. “I didn’t realize how late it was. I need to get home and get some things done before Lacey gets home from school.”
“Thanks, Rosita,” she called out toward the door leading into the kitchen. “Come over sometime and show Vicente how to make these wonderful sopapillas, will you?”
The housekeeper appeared in the doorway with a smile on her face, wiping her hands on her apron. “Sí, señora. If he will listen.”
“I guess that would be a first.” Anna laughed. “Good luck.”
Gil walked out with them to the truck, hovering like a doting uncle, and opened the driver’s side door for her. “I do care about you,” he said. “Please don’t ever believe otherwise when I get a little too pushy. With your dad gone and all—well...”
At the sound of an approaching vehicle, he lifted his gaze to the driveway and frowned. “This world just isn’t a safe place anymore.”
His expression cleared as a Rocking B pickup barreled into view and pulled to a stop in a cloud of dust at the front of the barn.
“Here’s my new man, Jose Nieto—he and Alvarez are in command around here.” Gil smiled apologetically. “My arthritis and the back of a horse just don’t do so well together anymore. It’s terrible getting old.”
Anna hesitated, then rested a hand briefly on his shoulder. “You’ve got a lot of good years left, Gil.”
Brady watched the driver get out and slam the door.
The wiry cowboy touched the brim of his hat in greeting and turned toward the barn. Then he pivoted and froze, staring at Dante. His teeth bared in an eerie semblance of a smile before he wheeled around again and disappeared into the barn.
Dante drew a sharp breath.
“Is he a friend of yours?” Brady asked him in a low voice. “He sure seems to know you.”
“Nope.” Dante shrugged dismissively as he climbed into the back seat of the pickup.
A sixth sense told Brady that Nieto was no stranger to trouble and that he’d clearly recognized Dante.
The kid was lying. But why?
Anna knew Brady was planning to do something to engineer his move into the main house; she just didn’t know when, where or what.
So when Dante thundered up the porch steps on Saturday morning, flung open the door with a crash and skidded into the kitchen, she did her best to feign surprise.
