She nodded, looking around with a frown at the mess of hoses, boxes, old tires, and lord-knows-what piled against the walls. Then she rearranged her features into the neutral mask of a pro, giving Cole a sense of pride. She was turning into a great assistant, and he was glad he’d brought her along.
Until he heard the trumpeting neigh resounding from the back of the barn, followed by hoof strikes against a box stall.
Keith chuckled. “That’ll be Rojo Caliente tellin’ us what he thinks. Kevin’s trying to get a halter on him. He’s a handful. Just as red-hot as his name.”
Cole felt a sense of alarm. “Is this a new stud horse you’ve got, Keith?”
“Sure is. Bought him down in New Mexico. Got a big, stout hip on him and a heavy-muscled chest. Threw some of the prettiest foals you’ve ever seen last year.”
“Quarter horse?”
“Yeah. Red sorrel, stands a little over fifteen hands, and pure muscle. Quick as a cat on his feet, but his personality is another thing. Watch out when you’re working on him, Doc. He likes to bite.”
His alarm escalated to full alert, and Cole looked at Angie. “I want you to stand outside the barn until we have Rojo inside the stocks. And then stay beside the doorway until I get him sedated.”
Angie nodded and headed out the barn door, reassuring him that she’d do as he said. He wished he had a nickel for every time he’d discussed safety while working around animals with his kids.
Another pickup pulled up outside, and with a quick glance, Cole read the sign on the truck: Randolph Farrier Services. This was something he’d not expected. “You got plans to shoe some horses when we’re done here?” he asked Keith.
Meanwhile, the aforementioned Rojo Caliente continued to kick up a fuss at the back of the barn, followed by cursing and shouts that Cole assumed were coming from Keith’s younger brother, Kevin.
“Thought we’d have Rojo’s hooves trimmed while you had him sedated.”
“I didn’t schedule time for that.”
“That’s okay. If you can just leave me a little of that sleepy paste, we can manage.” Keith turned away before Cole could respond and headed down the alleyway toward the back of the barn. “I’ll go see if I can help Kev.”
Cole thought Keith meant a mild sedative he dispensed in paste form to his horse clients. He heard Angie exchange greetings with the newcomer before the man entered, lugging a case full of tools, which would include various sizes of nippers, rasps, and right- and left-handed hoof knives.
The farrier gave Cole the once-over with narrow-set gray eyes separated by a nose bridge so pinched it reminded Cole of an Afghan hound. After he set the heavy case down on the ground with a thud, Cole introduced himself, extending a handshake.
“Pleased to meet you, Doc.” The man wiped his palms on his jeans and returned Cole’s grip with a callused, work-hardened hand. “Quinn Randolph.”
Cole began to feel uncomfortable as Quinn continued to study him with an unblinking gaze. “Are you new to town, Quinn?”
“I’m from Hightower. Starting to come over to Timber Creek quite a bit.”
Cole had several horse clients around Hightower. Odd that their paths hadn’t crossed before today. “You been in the business long?”
“Just started up on my own a few months ago.” Quinn withdrew a wallet from his hip pocket and riffled through cards inside it until he found what he was looking for. “Here’s my card. I’d appreciate it if you could mention my name to some of your clients.”
Cole read the card before placing it in his pocket. It included a list of services: hoof trimming, shoeing, and hoof shaping and balancing.
A stall door at the end of the alleyway banged open and a large red stallion rushed out, for the most part dragging his handlers rather than being led. He reared, pawing the air until Kevin snapped the chain on his halter and brought him down. Kevin was smaller than his older brother but built like a professional wrestler with wide shoulders, stocky and strong. The two were compatible in that Keith tended to make the decisions while Kevin seemed most comfortable working with the animals.
The men had hooked two different lead ropes onto the stallion’s halter and managed to guide him, snorting and stamping, down the alleyway toward the stocks. Cole noticed Angie peeking around the doorway, her eyes widening as she took in the fractious animal. She pulled back to disappear again behind the wall, staying well out of the way.
“We’ve got our hands full with this one,” Cole murmured to Quinn.
The farrier gave Cole one of his hard stares as he muttered, “Not a horse born that I can’t handle.”
Cole had to wonder what methods the man used that made him so sure of himself. He himself planned to use sedation, because this stud horse would never tolerate the dental procedure without it. “Have you had this horse inside the stocks before?” Cole asked as the men approached with the animal.
“Nah,” Keith said, his eyes on Rojo. “When we bought him, they said we’d have to sedate him to do any vet work on him or mess with his feet. But Kevin plans to work through that with him. We just haven’t had him long enough yet.”
Cole wished Kevin a whole lot of luck and hoped he could make progress with the stallion in time. But for today, he’d stick to his original plan. He removed three bottles of sedating drugs from his smock pocket and drew up a combination of xylazine, medetomidine, and butorphanol into a cocktail that would sedate Rojo while allowing him to stay on his feet.
He approached the horse on the younger brother’s side, holding the syringe ready. “Kevin, let’s have you hold the lead strap and let him circle while I step in beside you and give him the shot.”
Rojo bared his teeth and snaked his head toward Cole, but Kevin yanked the lead chain to arrest the movement before the horse could bite. Cole stepped in quickly beside Rojo’s neck, close enough that he couldn’t strike with those heavy front hooves. He used his free hand to stroke the horse’s neck and find the vein, which he occluded with pressure so that he could inject the sedative intravenously. Within seconds, the drugs started to work.
Cole moved back out of the way. “Get him into the stocks.”
Rojo followed with sluggish steps, stumbling on the last few as Kevin positioned him inside the rectangular stanchion. He swung the heavy side bar closed, securing the latch at the back.
“This horse needs a few come-to-Jesus sessions,” Quinn said as he leaned against the wall.
The words were said in an ominous tone that Cole didn’t like, but he chose to ignore them. Just then his phone rang inside his pocket. He ignored it as well and hurried to position the stallion’s head high enough at the front of the stocks so that he could insert a dental block that would hold his jaw open.
A quick exam revealed the sharp spines on the edges of the stallion’s teeth. Cole grasped the handle of his dental instrument and removed it from the bucket of disinfectant that he was soaking the business end of the floats in, positioned it in Rojo’s mouth, and turned on the power. The floats whirred as the tungsten carbide bits ground and smoothed the teeth into a flatter surface.
Quinn was talking to Keith. “You met your new neighbors yet?”
“Afraid so,” Keith said. “We don’t neighbor much. What a bunch of weirdos.”
“That’s for sure. Women and girls dress in garb that makes them look like a bunch of nuns.”
Cole figured Quinn was talking about the Vaughn family, the ones he’d met in his clinic this morning. The family had impressed him as being cordial and nice. He turned off the floats to feel the teeth on the lower arch, which still needed a little more grinding. He’d probably be better off if he stayed out of the conversation, but he couldn’t allow himself to do it. “I suppose they have the right to dress the way they want. Met Mrs. Vaughn and her kids at the clinic this morning, and they seem like real nice people.”
Quinn stared at him while Cole turned the floats back on, filling the silence with noise from the instrument.
Quinn rais
ed his voice, directing his comments to Keith. “There’s more than just that one family living there. They’ve got at least five trailer houses lined up and a passel of kids running around. Did some shoeing for a fellow named King who says he’s a horse trainer.”
“Horse trainer.” Keith spat tobacco juice in a way that showed his disgust. “That’s a bunch of nonsense. Doubt if they know what they’re doing.”
“The men dress funny too. Pants that button, suspenders, blue shirts, like it’s their uniform. They wear funny-shaped beards along their jaw like those Mennonites you hear about.”
Cole stayed out of the rest of the conversation while he tackled grinding Rojo’s upper dental arch. As soon as he was done, he turned to Quinn, saying, “He’s all yours,” before gathering his equipment to pack up. Angie helped him carry his things out to the truck and climbed into the front while he finished up with Keith, providing the medetomidine paste he’d requested earlier. The Perry brothers were going to need it with that horse.
Through the doorway, Cole could hear Quinn lecturing Kevin about how to tie a horse, throw him down, and show him who was boss.
Cole waved a hand toward the open door. “Just so you know, I’m not a fan of treating a horse that way. It’s one thing to tie up a leg to work on him, but it’s another to try to throw him and roll him. It would most likely result in an injury, either to the horse or to yourself.”
Keith rolled his eyes. “Kevin won’t stand for that anyway. He’s just letting the guy flap his mouth.”
Cole nodded, said good-bye, and stepped up into the driver’s seat. He pulled his phone from his pocket, saw that the call he’d ignored earlier had come from Sheriff McCoy’s cell phone, and dialed him without checking the voice mail.
Sheriff McCoy’s deep baritone answered. “Cole, did you get my message?”
“I called you back without listening to it.”
“We’ve got a situation that I need some help with from the posse.”
Oh no. He didn’t have time for this today. “What’s going on, Sheriff?”
“Deputy Cobb and Glenna Dalton are up at Hanging Falls. They’ve found a body, Cole.”
His heart dropped. He hated the thought of Mattie up in the wilderness with a body and felt pressed to go help her. “What do you need from the posse?”
“I need to get Deputy Brody and Detective LoSasso up to the falls and maybe one man to ride along with them.”
“I’m away from the clinic now, but I’ll call Dad and see if he can get some horses and gear ready for you. We’ll need a horse to pack out the body too, won’t we?”
Angie turned and stared at him, her face filled with surprise, obviously listening to his side of the conversation. He kicked himself for not keeping a closer watch on his words.
“Yes, we’ll need a packhorse, but I don’t have all the details yet.”
“I’ll call you back as soon as I know what our schedule is,” Cole said, before ending the call.
“What’s that about?” Angie asked, her face set in a concerned frown.
Cole felt like he should tell his daughter what was going on and see if he could enlist her cooperation. “That was Sheriff McCoy. Mattie told me last night that she and the game warden were going up to Hanging Falls today. Apparently they’ve found a body.”
“Oh my gosh, Dad! Whose?”
“Don’t know, sweetheart. But I’ve got to call Grandpa to get things set up for taking people up there.”
“Do you need some help?”
He would never allow Angie to ride up to a crime scene like this, but it pleased him that she’d offered to help. “Thanks, but I think Grandpa can take care of the horses. I’ll have to see who’s available to ride up with the team.”
Angie slipped him a sideways glance and settled back in her seat while Cole pulled away from the ranch and set a course back to Timber Creek. She probably knew he was the one most likely to volunteer, because after all, this was Mattie who needed help. “You were planning to go over to Riley’s house later this afternoon, right?”
“I guess.”
As Cole brought his truck up to speed and dialed his dad, he knew Angie wasn’t a bit happy about the situation. He was sorry, but right now he had his hands full, and there was nothing more he could do about it.
SIX
“You won’t let that dog bite me, will you?” the guy said, his eyes fixed on Robo.
Robo opened his mouth in a slight pant, revealing his sharp teeth.
Mattie wondered if the man had had a previous run-in with a K-9. “If you don’t make any sudden moves or try to touch me, you have nothing to worry about. Now what’s your name?”
“Name’s Brown. Tracy Lee Brown.”
“Okay, Mr. Brown. Tell me what you’re doing up here.”
“Campin’.” His southern drawl was evident, even on the single word.
Mattie found that hard to believe. She waved a hand in the general vicinity of the basin above the falls. “Up here?”
“Nah, not up here. Down below the falls.”
That sounded more believable. “So what are you doing up here today?”
“Just takin’ a look around.”
The way Tracy Lee’s eyes kept shifting from Robo to her and back colored her opinion of him. He certainly looked and acted suspicious, and she had to remind herself not to jump to any conclusions. His fear of dogs could be the sole reason for the shifty eyes.
“Why were you on the ledge watching me earlier?”
He wagged his head. “I wasn’t.”
“I know you were. I spotted you there, and that’s where my dog picked up your scent.”
“I wasn’t really watchin’ you on purpose. I started to come down and saw you there, so I decided to stay where I was.”
“Why not come on down?”
He cleared his throat. “Didn’t want to run into anybody today. I … I just went for a hike. All I want to do is get back to my campsite.”
Robo might be making the guy nervous, but he wasn’t solely responsible. Mattie decided that Tracy Lee was clearly hiding something. “Where do you live when you’re not camping, Mr. Brown?”
“Don’t have a permanent home this summer.”
“Where was your last place of residence?”
“Down near San Angelo.” He paused, flicking the fingers of his right hand as if they were a release valve for some of his nervousness. “Texas.”
“When did you arrive here near Timber Creek?”
“Maybe the first of June. I’ve been here most of the summer.”
“Camping?”
“Yeah. Pretty much campin’ most of the summer.” The fingers of his right hand continued to twitch.
“Do you have a camping permit?”
He looked startled. “Do I need one?”
Mattie was fairly sure he didn’t need a permit in this part of the national forest, although living on government land was illegal. No permanent address, camping, and his unkempt condition added up to squatting in her book. This was something the Forest Service needed to look into. “Depends on where you camp. You’ll have to take me there.”
He flicked his fingers again as he stared at Robo.
This guy knew more than he was saying, and she wasn’t ready to believe that he’d found the knife he’d been carrying. She had a right to take him to the station for questioning, and she could probably justify looking into his pack without permission, but it was always good protocol to ask first. “You say there aren’t any weapons in your pack here, right?”
He nodded, but he looked even more worried.
“Mind if I take a look inside?”
He puffed out a breath. “I guess you can. Nothing illegal in there.”
Mattie picked up the fanny pack and opened the zipper. First thing she spotted—a bag of marijuana and a pipe. She sorted through the rest of the stuff: beef jerky, granola bars, candy, and bags of trail mix. All a person needed to satisfy the munchies. There was also a roll of cash in
an outer pocket, which Mattie left untouched and zipped securely in place. “You do know it’s illegal to possess weed on federal land, don’t you?”
His mouth fell open. “What?”
“In Colorado you can possess a small amount of marijuana for use in your own home, but it’s against the law to smoke it in a national forest.” Mattie recited the code, watching his face fall. “Is anyone else up here camping with you?”
He shook his head. “I’m alone.”
“Did you see anyone come up here during the past week?”
His gaze didn’t quite make eye contact. “Nah, I haven’t been at the falls for a couple weeks. My camp’s over a mile away.”
Mattie decided to be done with the polite approach. “I’m having trouble believing you, Tracy Lee. You see, I think you were watching me earlier, and I think you know we fished a body out of the lake by the falls.”
His eyes widened, and he clamped his lips shut.
“What do you know about that body?”
He was shaking his head even before she finished the question. “Don’t know nothin’ about a dead man.”
And yet he knew the corpse was a man. “I think you do, Tracy Lee. I think you know plenty.”
“No, ma’am.”
It was time to end the questioning. Detective Stella LoSasso would pick it back up later at the station. “Clasp your hands on the back of your head, Tracy Lee.”
“Oh, shit.” Though he complied, his comment told Mattie he’d been this route before. She’d bet money this man had a record. Time would tell what all was on it.
“Robo, guard.” Robo shifted, lowering into a fierce crouch that would scare anyone, digging his toenails into the ground as if to launch, while Mattie moved behind Tracy Lee to stay away from his reach. She figured he was too frightened of Robo to try anything, but it never hurt to play it safe. She snapped a cuff on one of his wrists and then the other before letting her captive lower his arms in front. They had some rough terrain to journey through on their way back to Hanging Falls, and with her partner at her side, there was no reason to force the man to walk with his hands cuffed behind his back.
Hanging Falls Page 6
