a spot downstream a short way where the river pooled into a watering hole. According to Sam, the mustangs frequented the place, along with deer and elk. Picking his way through the sagebrush and scrub oak, Cade soon found it.
Sure enough, hoofprints lined the water’s edge. Fresh manure indicated the mustangs had watered here as recently as this morning, which surprised him, considering the scare the poachers had given the herd the night before. Apparently, the horses’ habits were deeply ingrained, and that could prove to be both good and bad. It would allow him to keep watch over them, but give the poachers equal opportunity to come back and find the mustangs easily.
Cade took his digital camera out of his denim jacket. It was a nice one, and he shot both stills and video footage of the watering hole. Then he moved through the brush, winding his way down the canyon toward the spot where he and Reno had run across the poachers. He found an area where ATV tracks crisscrossed through the mud, and saw shattered headlight glass on the ground in a couple of places.
He recalled the shots Reno had exchanged with the poachers. He hadn’t thought to berate her last night, but she was going to get herself hurt if she wasn’t careful. After taking pictures of the broken glass, Cade gingerly picked it all up and wrapped it inside his bandanna-style handkerchief. It wouldn’t do to leave the glass for the mustangs—or any other animal—to step on. He’d show the digital pictures and the glass to Sam.
So intent was he on what he was doing, it took Cade a moment to notice the hoofbeats coming his way. Mustangs? His heart jumped, until he heard the unmistakable sound of a horseshoe striking against rock. A moment later, Reno rode into view on the same blue roan he’d seen last night—when she’d stared at him as though she’d seen a ghost. Cade could hardly blame her. He supposed in some ways that’s exactly what he was to her. Had his actions all those years ago haunted her the way they’d haunted him?
Still, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her. Until he saw Sheriff Pritchard riding behind her on a big sorrel horse. Cade’s smile turned into a scowl.
“Morning, Cade,” Reno said, not meeting his eyes.
“Look what the cat dragged back to town,” Austin said. “It’s been a while, Lantana.”
“That it has.” Cade narrowed his eyes. “There wasn’t any need for you to ride all the way out here. Sam’s got this investigation under control.”
“Well, Sam’s not here, and seeing as how I’m the sheriff of this county, I’d say it’s my sworn duty to uphold the law under all circumstances, including this one.” Austin’s pale blue eyes stared back at him.
As cocky as Cade remembered.
“Would you two knock it off,” Reno said. “Find anything interesting, Cade?”
“Tire tracks from the ATVs. Looks like there were three or four of them.”
“I know I shot out the headlights on two,” Reno stated.
Cade started to tell her why that hadn’t been a good idea, then decided not to get into it in front of the sheriff.
“I did not just hear that,” Austin said. “Reno, you can’t be out here shooting at people, even if they are trespassing.”
“They shot at me first. Besides,” Reno said, “I didn’t shoot at people. I shot their lights. They need to stay off my property. Don’t they know about Colorado’s Make My Day law? Some property owners would shoot a trespasser pretty quick in these parts.”
Austin looked as if he was going to argue the point further, but Cade cut him off. “I was just getting ready to walk upriver a ways.”
“What for?” Austin asked, resting one arm against his saddle horn, as the sorrel gelding cocked a hind leg and relaxed beneath him.
“To check out a hunch.” Cade started walking again, eyes carefully scanning the ground. He found the spot where the canyon narrowed, where the poachers had attempted to drive the mustangs into the trap they’d set for them. The shod hoofprints of his own horse and Reno’s were mixed with the ATV tracks. The muddy ground was churned up from all the activity of the night before, clumps of sagebrush trampled.
“Looks to me like they set up a portable fence here to corral the herd,” Austin said, from the back of his horse.
No shit, Sherlock.
“What exactly are you looking for?” Reno asked.
Cade hated to share his theory with Austin Pritchard, but then he supposed two heads—three in this case—might be better than one. “Trailer tracks. I have a feeling those ol’ boys were planning to haul as many horses out of here last night as they could. Before we came along and interrupted their fun.”
Reno’s eyes widened. “I’d assumed they were going to drive them into the canyon and fence them off, then come back later.”
“Could be,” Cade said. “But I don’t think so. I talked to Sam before I drove out here. The poachers have been hard to catch, and they know the BLM is onto them. I’d bet they’d want to get in and out as quickly as possible.”
“Where in the world would somebody park a sizable rig out here?” Austin pondered. “They’d have to leave it up where you parked, and that would make it mighty hard to turn around. That road’s not wide.”
Cade had already thought of that. “I don’t think that’s where they left their rigs.”
“Where, then?” Reno asked. She’d dismounted and now walked alongside Cade, leading the blue roan.
Her proximity made Cade feel too warm in the light jacket he wore. She smelled like wildflowers, and he noticed that beneath her black cowboy hat, her black braid hung nearly to her waist. She’d always worn her hair long, and the silk of it used to nearly drive him crazy whenever she let her hair fall free. He pushed away the image of an eighteen-year-old Reno.
“According to my topo map,” Cade said, “there’s a place upriver shaped like a bowl in the rocks, and a road leads from there to the one up above. They could’ve parked a rig in that bowl and had plenty of room to turn around.”
“I know the spot,” Reno said. “But the track leading out is pretty hairy. Still, it’s worth a look.”
“Glad you approve.” Cade hadn’t intended to say that so sarcastically. He supposed he was annoyed because of Austin breathing down his neck, and Reno stirring up old feelings.
She frowned. “Hey, I’m just here to be an extra pair of eyes,” she said.
Cade said nothing, but thought he saw Austin smirk.
Farther along, the ground became less trampled, but the ATV tracks continued on. Cade followed them until he found exactly what he’d been looking for. The small meadow, surrounded by canyon walls, lay at the end of a road resembling a wagon trail more than anything else.
Satisfied, Cade studied the flattened brush and tall grass. A rig had been here, all right, and not just one. From the appearance of the tire tracks, two heavy-duty trucks pulling what were likely roomy, fifth-wheel trailers had parked here last night. Cade took more pictures and video, working his way up to the road, careful not to disturb any evidence.
“I can get my deputies out here to cast and mold those tire tracks,” Austin said, when they came to an area where the road was still damp but drying fast. The tracks here were quite clear.
Begrudgingly, Cade nodded. “Be a good idea,” he said. “Can you get a copy for Sam?”
Austin lifted a shoulder. “I suppose, though I don’t see why that’s necessary. I told you, this is my county.”
“And this is BLM business,” Cade contended.
“Okay, you two boys go ahead and kick sand in each other’s faces,” Reno said, swinging back onto her gelding. “I’m going to ride farther up this road and see what’s what.”
With