Courage To Follow (Cowboys of Courage 1)

by Charlene Bright

  It was a short list of suspects—two strange guys claiming they were just traveling through and the Sheriff’s Deputy. But it was better than nothing, assuming he needed somewhere to start. He still clung to the hope that Hoyt had gone to some hunting cabin, drank too much, and slept it off.

  As he strode back toward the house with empty buckets, he heard wheels crunching over ice and pebbles, and squinted down the winding road to see who the hell was headed his way this time. Typically, he didn’t have a visitor more than once a week; two in the same day didn’t inspire confidence. But as the old blue pickup rolled toward his house, a smile crossed his face. Sam Thorpe hadn’t brought him a single piece of mail in almost a month. He set the buckets down on the side of the house and waved to the mailman, who stuck an arm out the window of the old beast and waved back.

  It rumbled up the driveway, and Sam stopped, opening the door to the truck and stepping out, wearing coveralls tucked into a pair of rubber wading boots. His wild gray threads of hair shot out randomly beneath an old beanie that looked like one tug on a dangling yarn would unravel the whole thing. “Hey, Garrett, how you been?”

  “Well, Sam, I’d like to say life’s been good to me, but the last couple days have been difficult. And I’ve been a little lonely, not seeing you for so long.”

  “Yeah, well, I can only go where they tell me,” Sam said in an apologetic tone. “If my bones didn’t ache so bad, I’d drive up here just to say how do every now and again. But between my arthritis and Lucille having some issues with her heart, I just can’t do it.”

  “I’m just giving you a hard time, Sammy. You and your wife are more important than crawling up this mountain to share a cup of coffee.” He took the stack of mail Sam held out to him. “Speaking of which, I’ve got a fresh pot. If you have a few minutes, at least one cup of it belongs to you.”

  Sam hesitated only briefly, then chuckled. “Aw, hell, Garrett, you know I can’t turn down a few minutes up here on the mountain with you. I only got one more stop anyway, and I got all afternoon to make it. A few minutes won’t hurt.” He followed Garrett into the house and sat in the same chair he always chose, furthest from the door and nearest the coffee pot. Garrett theorized his sense of smell was going and he wanted to catch the fumes of coffee as much as possible.

  “What’s been going on out your way?” Garrett asked, settling into his own chair and kicking his booted feet up on a third. He tipped his hat back, the room too dim for him to see with the brim so low over his eyes.

  “Not much, really. Other than running the mail, I take care of Lucille. I want to have as much time as possible with her before I lose her, you know. Well, maybe you don’t, but you will someday,” Sam told him with a twinkle in his eye.

  “I’m not looking for love, my friend. I don’t have time for it. I envy you the connection, but it’s not for me.”

  But Sam shook a finger at him. “You mark my words, son. One of these days here soon, love will bite you in the ass, and you won’t be able to escape. You’ll hate it to start with, but then you won’t know what to do with yourself if the girl’s not around.” Sam sat forward, a sign he was changing the subject, and Garrett mused silently whether it was normal to know things like that about people. “I heard on my way up here you got your hands full and Hoyt’s MIA.”

  Garrett sighed and grabbed the brim of his hat, running his fingers back and forth over it. It had become a nervous habit over the years. “That’s the word.” He took out the badge and flashed it. “Leland brought this over early this morning, claiming the county can’t go without a sheriff. We already searched the office and his property but can’t find anything to follow. I keep thinking he just went off on a hunting trip and didn’t tell anyone, but that’s not really his style, either.”

  “Well, honestly, the man’s getting older. Maybe he’s suffering from some senility or that Alzheimer’s disease and forgot who he was,” Sam suggested.

  Garrett scowled. “He’s a little young for that.”

  “Not really. I just read an article, says it’s happening earlier and earlier to people. You know, if you don’t exercise your brain enough, they say, you’ll start to forget things sooner. The brain’s just a muscle, same as your bicep.”

  “Sammy, has anyone ever told you that you read too much?”

  “My wife,” he said with a laugh. “Seriously, though, it’s possible. Just sit back and wait a bit. If he wandered off, he’s probably not that bad off, and he’s got some sense of direction. He’ll find his way back home, and he’ll make up some crazy story about being captured by some mountain man who wanted to fatten him up and roast him for dinner. He’ll tell us about his brave escape and everything.”

  “You’re probably right,” he agreed, still playing with his hat, but he’d already started to think it wouldn’t be so simple. If Hoyt had lost his marbles and wandered away, he probably hurt himself. He could be bleeding out, or he could have broken a bone and gotten stuck in the snow, fighting off bobcats. Hell, he could have been killed by a grizzly, and the only sign left of him would be that damned badge of his lying on top of a pile of bear crap.

  “You haven’t even looked at your mail,” Sam said, pointing at the pile as he leaned back and changed the subject again.

  Garrett made a face. “It can’t be anything important. That’s what the Internet’s for. I have email, I pay my bills online, and I even have a Facebook account. And if anyone’s in a hurry to get a hold of me, I have a cell phone. Not that it gets a signal up here most of the time, but I come down the mountain often enough.”

  Sam rolled his eyes and scowled, his bushy eyebrows meeting over the bridge of his nose beneath the deep wrinkles of disapproval. “You know, a lot of people tell me I’m a cantankerous bastard, but I got stuff on you and your attitude, boy. You’re too young to be so jaded.”

  Shooting Sam a cold glare, Garrett challenged, “Most people my age haven’t been through what I have, Sam, and don’t forget it. I know better than anyone the world’s not a good place. There’s nothing jaded about it.” He didn’t like talking about his family with anyone, even Sam, who had always been like a grandfather to him.

  Sam held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to raise your hackles. Anyway, you put too much faith in that new technology. I have the Internet, too, and I like to read stuff on it, but I still get my magazines, and if I want to talk to someone, I write them a letter or pick up the landline.”

  “That’s because you’re a dinosaur, Sammy. You only have the Internet because your desire for new and odd things to read is insatiable,” Garrett teased, letting it go. He knew Sam was the last person who’d try to get him to talk about his parents, and he’d overreacted. He just still got steamed up about it and couldn’t control his temper.

  With an offended look, Sam stood. “What’s so wrong with wanting to be smart? Information is good to have. You never know what might happen that you need to call up some random thing you read once that’ll save your life.” He patted his pockets, heard the keys jingle, and nodded. “Thanks for the coffee and conversation. I’ve got to be getting on. Eleanor’s waiting for her mail, too, and then I got to get back down the mountain before it gets dark. I don’t see so good in the dark these days.”

  Garrett suspected he didn’t see well at all, but he didn’t say that out loud. Instead, he stood and shook Sam’s hand, walking out with him. “Thanks for stopping. I’ll let you know if I hear anything about Hoyt.”

  “And same to you,” he said, slamming the heavy truck door. The engine coughed and sputtered as he started it, but it still rumbled to life, and Sam laughed. “This old bird won’t ever give out on me completely. Have a good one!” He waved and flipped a U-turn in the wide driveway, headed up the dirt road toward Eleanor’s place.

  Chapter 4

  Alone once again, Garrett stared out at his property. Early evening always proved the worst time. He’d finished chores but couldn’t justify making dinner yet. The chill started to
roll in, but it hadn’t permeated enough to start the fire. They didn’t expect snow tonight, so there wasn’t even any shoveling to do or salt to throw down on the walkways. It was probably the only time of day he truly felt lonely.

  At the same time, he didn’t want anyone else around, screwing with his schedule or telling him what to do and how to do it. If he wanted to sit and stare out the window with a blank mind, that was his right, and having anyone here—a friend or roommate, a woman, or family—would require he at least be sociable or responsive. It was a catch-22 situation, and Garrett chose what he thought was the lesser of the evils.

  The wind caught him dead in the face, and it burned his cheeks. Turning to go inside, he heard a distinct bark and squinted in its direction. Diablo came bounding toward him from the road, and Garrett crouched down to greet him, rubbing his giant ears as the dog licked his face. “All right, boy, that’s enough. Only a woman can kiss me that much. Where the hell have you been for three days?”

  The basset hound stepped back and gave one good bark at him. “Hunting, huh? Did you catch something tasty?” Another definite bark. “I’m glad. Are you tired and cold, ready to join me inside?” The dog wagged his tail enthusiastically, and Garrett led the way inside. He didn’t exactly take responsibility for Diablo’s ownership. The dog had appeared on his doorstep one day, not exactly a puppy but a very young adult, and he’d never truly left.

  He roamed free, and on occasion he’d stay gone for two or three days, but he usually came back at night. If it was late and Garrett was already in bed, he’d curl up in the stables with the horses and greet Garrett first thing in the morning. He’d truly never seen such a bouncy, excited hound in his life, but Diablo was both energetic and fierce, never failing to catch his prey.

  The quiet understanding between man and dog suited Garrett just fine. He was too busy to take on a full-time pet, and Diablo was too independent to choose a full-time owner. The dog visited Eleanor and her kids from time to time, and the kids liked to think he partially belonged to them. Garrett didn’t mind. They kept the hound fit and healthy.

  It also didn’t hurt anything that Garrett really hated cats, and Diablo served as both a deterrent for cats as well as a cat-like rat killer. It was better for the property and less of an annoyance for him. He went to the cabinet and dug out a large scoop of the dry dog food he kept, dumping it in the plastic bowl he left in the corner for Diablo. The dog may hunt and eat, but Garrett wasn’t such a selfish person that he didn’t think about supplementing the vitamins in the dog’s diet.

  Diablo went straight for it, giving Garrett a big smile and a sneeze of satisfaction. Watching the canine made his stomach start to growl. Normally, he wouldn’t have made dinner for another hour or so, but he hadn’t eaten lunch, and food sounded like heaven. He reached in the fridge and pulled out a steak and some vegetables, and grabbed a potato from the pantry. He turned on the oven while he dressed the steak with spices and added some soy sauce to a frying pan for the vegetables.

  Searing the steak on both sides, he sautéed his vegetables and stuck the potato in the oven to bake. That would take the longest, but he’d worry about it after he got some other food in his belly. He cooked the meat for another couple of minutes on each side and called it good. It should be medium-rare. He let the veggies cook for another minute or two after that and dumped them onto the plate.

  Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he filled it with milk and sat down, forking it up fast. He tossed a couple of bites of steak down to Diablo, who demolished them and sat staring at Garrett with love in his eyes. “I know,” Garrett told him. “I did myself proud with this one. It’s perfect.” He swallowed the last of his vegetables, rinsed his plate, and grabbed the potato from the oven. Sour cream, butter, and far more cheese than was good for his arteries went in, and he ate it with a second glass of milk.

  By the time he finished, he was stuffed and moved to the living room, flopping on the couch and reaching for the remote. The sky grew dark through the window, and Garrett had a momentary thought that he couldn’t believe it had only been twenty-four hours since he sat here last with everything he’d been through today.

  Just as he hit the on switch, his phone rang, and he scowled, cursing under his breath. If it was Leland Maynard, he was going to lay into him so hard the man would have trouble getting out of bed in the morning. “Hello?” he answered curtly.

  “Hey, Garrett, it’s Lucas.” That was unexpected. “Listen, I talked to the boys, and if we haven’t heard anything from Hoyt by tomorrow morning, we’re starting a manhunt. Some of the guys think he might be injured out in the woods, so we’re combing the town, the mountain, and the timbers to see if we can’t find him.”

  Garrett supposed it wasn’t a bad idea. After all, that’s what the Search and Rescue team was for. “What do you want from me?”

  “I’m just informing you and looking for your blessing on it.”

  He glanced at Diablo, whose ears perked up as his eyes rolled around in his head. Fine help he was. “It’s probably the best thing to do. How many men are you putting on it?”

  “I’ve got eight volunteers so far, including me, and I’m waiting to hear from five more. I like working in pairs, you know that. If I need someone to fill a slot, are you game?”

  How had he known that was coming? He couldn’t help but think that he should have left Courage and sold the land when he got out of the academy. He didn’t want to be a part of this, no matter how much he liked the sheriff. It only made things worse that he had to step up and take responsibility for the legal side of things. He liked having responsibility only for himself and his property. He was stuck. He couldn’t say no.

  Closing his eyes and clenching his jaw, he tossed his hat aside and slammed his head against the couch. “I’m fine with that. What’s the meeting plan?”

  He could hear profound relief in Lucas’s voice. “We’ll be at the sheriff’s station at eight in the morning. If by some miracle Hoyt shows up by then, we’ll just have breakfast at Lou’s. If not, we’ll organize and get started, work till nightfall and start again the next morning.”

  Lucas was nothing if not diligent. “All right, then, I’ll meet you at the sheriff’s station.” At least the hour gave him time to tend his animals before he headed out. He hung up and glared at Diablo accusingly. “You know, if you were any good as a hunting dog, you could sniff Hoyt out, and then all this nonsense would be over and done. Why won’t you let me train you?”

  He’d tried more than once, letting Diablo smell a rag that stank of raw meat so he’d follow the smell where Garrett had dripped blood all the way to the barn and find his treat. But the stubborn cuss refused to learn the trick. He only wanted to chase the damn rabbits and mice and other rodents in the woods. To him, it was more of a game than it was livelihood, and that made him a lousy hunting dog, despite being bred for it. Garrett adjusted his position, grumbling, “I don’t know where you came from, but whoever had you before didn’t do you any favors, letting you play instead of teaching you how to act right.”

  Diablo just rolled over, putting his head on Garrett’s lap and submitting with his belly in the air. Garrett rolled his eyes and patted him in apology. It was going to be an early night so he could make it an early morning, so he didn’t waste a lot of time searching for something great to watch. He just left it on the show that first came on the screen and let it play. When it was over, he got up and started his night routine, taking a shower, letting Diablo out to go to the bathroom, and climbing in the bed.

  Morning came early, and a mist hung in the trees and over the ground. It slowed him down as he drove off the mountain, so thick that his visibility was cloaked at just a few feet. It was worse in the valley where Courage proper rested, and he got a bad feeling about trying to start a county-wide manhunt in this weather. But as he arrived at the station to find a group of men milling around, he could tell Lucas and his people were far too determined. He’d never convince them to hold off f
or the fog to clear.

  Leland was there, his eyes bleary with big swollen circles under them. Whether he worried for Hoyt or himself, the man hadn’t slept well in some time, that was clear. He nodded his greeting to several of the men he knew, or at least knew of, and as cigarettes were thrown to the ground, they all filed into the small station, where Lucas had two maps hung. The first divided out populated areas to search, while the second sectioned off the woods.

  They’d cover the town and the properties on the mountain first, and then they’d strike out into the woods. Garrett wasn’t thrilled by any of it, but he let Lucas call the shots. He was good at what he did, and if anyone could create a plan to find the sheriff, Garrett trusted him to do so.

  Paired up with Mike Preston, who’d helped lead the charge the day before, Garrett took direction from Lucas, and they walked toward the trailer park outside of town. “You know he’s dead already, don’t you?” Mike asked out of nowhere as they pulled up to the entrance of the park.

  “We don’t know that.” Garrett couldn’t believe he’d said as much. If that’s what he believed, why was he even on the search?

  But Mike shook his head. “He’s been gone too long. If someone took him, they killed him by now. If he wandered off, he fell over a cliff or died of exposure or got attacked by a bear. If he was hunting, he got hurt and still died of exposure or got eaten by something out there. No matter what, this isn’t a search and rescue. It’s a search and recovery.”