Page 21 of Destined Predator
“You know I didn’t lay those traps on our land.”
“What?” Jack looked up and shaded his eyes against the slant of the sun. “Of course I know that!”
Relief loosened something tight across Rhett’s back. He hadn’t realized he’d been bracing for doubt from anyone. Not from Jack.
Rhett had spent all morning thinking about those traps, and Casey. He couldn’t believe Casey had set them in retaliation. He’d never really believed that. “Casey—” he started, holding up a hand to stop his brother breaking in. Damn, Jack was getting as ride or die as the Akers clan. “No way Casey laid them to have something to accuse me of in revenge for me going off at him.” He had no doubt Jack would be up to speed on that.
Hurricane pawed a little at the ground, restless with the inactivity, so Rhett walked him a few paces, Jack trailing along, too.
“Not when his family—his pack, whichever’s more correct or stronger—could be caught in them,” Rhett added.
“And when his mother died in one,” Jack said.
Shit.Rhett hadn’t known that. How could he? He thought about what that must have been like. “This life’s tough,” he murmured, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Chauncey, his pa, had died of a heart attack. Rhett, and everyone who had known him, had thought it was more like abrokenheart, after losing Ma.
“It is that.”
The way Jack said it reminded Rhett of their father a little, and somehow made him feel that tiny bit better. He checked his watch, although he had no need to, the way his stomach told him the time. “Come on. Let’s head in to lunch. And hey, Jack, see if, well, I don’t know, but if you can get anything out of the men? Not that I think there’s anything to be gotten.”
Jack’s nod said he understood, and he nodded again, when they were washed up and in the kitchen with the hands tenminutes later. Rhett looked around the big wooden table as he placed the catering-size slow cooker in front of him and prepared to dish out the stew he’d set cooking first thing.
“Apologies for the same old, same old,” he said, rising to fetch the basket of biscuits and the butter. “Housekeeper didn’t show up again.”
It was his usual joke. His mother, aided by the housekeeper who’d been his and Jack’s nanny once upon a time, had provided three meals a day for the Double T men. After Lorraine had passed, Chauncey and Rhett had soldiered on, and Rhett had been meaning to find a cook and bottlewasher since the ranch’s acreage had grown and they’d taken on more hands and now needed extra. He should see if Cousin Josh wanted to come out, work for a couple of months. Last Rhett had heard, he was at loose ends.
“Housekeeper? A wife’s cheaper.” Phil made his usual answering joke.
“But you pay in other ways,” Jerry added, as he usually did.
“Olivia was a looker. Made the place pretty,” Javon said. “Not that the ranch isn’t in good shape, but just,shewas pretty.”
“Ahem.” When Javon looked at Phil, after the fake cough, Phil nudged him and jerked his head at Rhett, as if a mention of his ex would upset him.
It didn’t. They hadn’t been suited any more than she’d been interested in ranch life. Livvy was more of a city girl by inclination, and she’d been busy with getting in some pre-work or credits or whatever they were called for community college and all excited about leaving Fallon County and going off to Western Wyoming College in Sweetwater. She’d sent him a postcard, with a picture of the campus on. She lived there too, now, in a residence hall.
The men were digging into the stew and biscuits, and Rhett had no need to signal Jack to get them talking about the trapsfound on Tucker land. It was the main topic of conversation. Even so, the way his brother subtly questioned the ranch hands impressed Rhett. Jack had learned some real slick city ways in NYC. He let Jack do the talking and watched the men instead—the set of shoulders, the glance to the door, the joke that didn’t quite land.
No one could fathom who’d left the traps, or why. None of the men gave any indication they’d done so or were the guilty party. Not that Rhett believed any of them could ever be responsible.
“Think they’re right?” Jack asked after the meal, when he and Rhett were cleaning up. He straightened from where he was loading the dishwasher. “That it was kids, messing about, or that someone left those traps in the wrong place?”
Rhett let his expression tell his brother what he thought ofthosetheories.
“Boss!” Jerry appeared at the kitchen door. “I’m finally through to the right guy in the Wyoming Fish and Game authority!” He vanished, back to the office. Cell phone reception was patchy out here and it was better to use a landline.
Muttering, “Guess that’s my cue,” Rhett went after him, and took his place behind the desk and on the phone.
“The Double T. Past Britton,” Rhett confirmed to the guy on the other end. “No, I ain’t asking for someone to come out here—I’m asking if anyone did come!” He listened. “Uh-huh. Well, thanks.”
He blew out a breath when he’d finished. He hated ‘officialdom’ as his pa had used to call it, and was happy to let Jerry handle as much of it as possible. The young guy liked chatting to and charming agriculture and license bureaus. Of course, now Jack was here, all the admin stuff would fall to him, if he wanted to make that his job.
“Boss, Fish and Game wouldn’t just come and do stuff.” Jerry shook his head. “I used to know a guy in one of the departmentsthere. I got friendly with him when I was at the Lodgepole Pine in Afton—they need everything in triplicate.”
“Well, the department head said no, no one’s been out to the land.” Rhett considered. “He asked if there were any strangers in town?”
“Couple, I guess. Probably hands looking for ranch work in Britton. The Mountain Ridge and Bar J are hiring.” Jerry took up his hat. “Okay if I get back?”
“Sure.” Rhett had stuff to attend to as well. He headed to the stables, out of habit, and found Jack there, putting up a new shelf. Well, this was one task he could cross off his to-do list, a list that was chasing its own tail, with them being two hands down.
