by Jenna Kernan
It had. In fact he’d warned Izzie that he would not be a part of anything illegal.
“I just read the signs.”
“Okay. You read the signs. It’s done. I’m giving you a warning and telling you to stay out of it. She needs help, she can hire your kid brother to track. Anyone on the Rez but you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know I went to school with your father?”
Clay did know because his uncle Luke had told him when he’d spoken to Donner about hiring Clay. His uncle Luke Forrest was his father’s half brother and so was not a Cosen.
“And your uncle put in a word for you. So do us both a favor. Keep out of politics. When Tessay or Clyne are talking, you hush up unless you need to say, ‘Yes, sir.’ You got that?”
“Yes, sir.” He said it without sarcasm but still gleaned a long, hard stare.
His boss left him standing there and returned to the circle. Clay swiped his hand at the long grass in frustration. Izzie needed his help. But he sure needed this job. Kino found him first.
“They’re wrapping it up for tonight. Can’t see anything, anyway.”
“The vet here?”
“Yeah. And Soto finally made it. They’re gonna set up tents and do the necropsy right here. Damn, that green puss is something. Ever seen anything like it?”
Clay gave his head a slow shake. “How long for results?”
“Couple days, at least.” Kino rested his hands on his hips, tucking his thumbs under the utility belt and staring out at the investigation, winding down as men headed for their vehicles.
“What?” said Clay. He knew his brother well enough to know that he wasn’t done talking.
Kino shrugged. “Clyne is worried about you and Izzie.”
“What about us?”
“None of my business. His, either. I told him that. But you took it pretty hard the last time is all.”
When she’d dumped him. Great, now his brothers where discussing his love life. Add it to the long list of his failures. Must make a nice change from gossiping about his other shortcomings.
“She hired me to read sign.”
“Okay. Just be careful.”
Did Kino mean because of the shooting or because he’d been a complete train wreck when Izzie had broken it off?
“Yeah. I’ll tell her to ask you if she needs any more help reading sign.” He called himself a liar even as he uttered the words. “Told her all I could. That should be that.” But he hoped it wasn’t. He wanted to see her again, was already plotting how he could make that happen. She owed him dinner.
“Good, because Gabe told me to remind you to leave the police work to us.” He kept his head down now as he delivered his message.
Clay tore off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair.
“Sorry,” muttered Kino.
Clay turned his back on Kino and headed toward the group of men. He noted that Izzie’s truck was already gone. What had he expected, a good-night kiss?
Clay glanced down out of habit, scanning the ground, and saw something he hadn’t before. A track—a big one, one that did not belong up here in the middle of nowhere.
Clay lifted his head. He had to find Gabe.
Chapter Six
Izzie did not sleep well or much. Her wake-up call the next morning was Gabe Cosen serving her with notice that the remainder of her cows would be seized and quarantined. Her mother returned from running errands and confronted her about seeing “that Cosen boy again.” Her mother loved gossip, unless she or her family were the subject of talk. Izzie wondered if her mother ever tired of being above reproach.
“Of all the people in this tribe to call. Really, Isabella. What were you thinking? What about that nice Mr. Patch? He certainly has made his interest known. And he has all that cattle.”
Izzie cringed, and her mother’s hands went to her hips.
“What’s wrong with him? I mean, we could certainly use some help around here.”
“We’re doing fine.” At least they had been yesterday. Now she felt as if the ground beneath her was sliding away.
“I mean, Clay Cosen, do you honestly want our name and his linked? Your father certainly didn’t.”
The below-the-belt blow hit home. Izzie flinched. It had been her father’s opposition that had finally gotten her to break it off with Clay. She’d been so sure her parents would change their minds about Clay, and then he had been arrested. Case closed. Her mother had basked in smug satisfaction at being right again while her father had offered comfort. How she missed her father, still, every single day.
“I don’t want that man on my land again,” she said to Izzie.
Izzie wanted to tell her mother that the land did not belong to them, but to the tribe. They had use of it by permit only. She wanted to tell her mother that she was a grown woman who could see who she liked, and she wanted to tell her mother that running the ranch was not her business because her husband had left that job to Izzie. Instead she said, “I’ve got chores.”
“But wait. I want to hear what is going on up there.”
Izzie kept going, knowing that her mother didn’t want anything badly enough to walk into a pasture dotted with cow pies and buzzing with flies. Izzie changed direction and headed for her pickup, deciding that would be faster than riding Biscuit.
“He’s trouble,” her mother called after her.
Izzie swung up behind the wheel. “Mom, I’ve got bigger trouble right now than Clay Cosen.” So why was she thinking of him instead of how to get back her cows? “I just got notice. They’re taking the rest of the herd, Mom.”
Carol pressed a hand to her chest. “But why?”
“Quarantined.”
“But...you... They... Isabella Nosie, you have to get them back.”
Finally, something on which they agreed.
“Working on it.” She pulled the truck door closed and started the engine, using the wipers to move the dust that blanketed her windshield.
Izzie headed up to the area where Clay had found the dead cows and now saw that a large white tent had been erected over the spot. Several pickups were parked beside the police cars in the gravel pad. Only one was familiar. It belonged to her neighbor Floyd Patch.
Izzie groaned as Floyd headed straight toward her. His gait was rushed, almost a jog. His skinny legs carried his round body along, reminding Izzie of a running ostrich. He was short, prematurely gray, with bulging eyes and skin that shone as if it had been recently waxed. His usual smile had been replaced by a look that hovered between stormy and category-five tornado.
She didn’t even have the driver’s-side door shut when he was on her like a hungry flea on a hound. He hitched his fists against his narrow hips and drew himself up, making his shirt draw tight across his paunch. It was hard for Izzie to recall that she’d initially found his attentions flattering. Now she greeted his occasional appearances with the reluctant resignation of an oncoming headache.
“I don’t appreciate you sending the police to my door,” said Floyd, his voice higher than usual.
“I did no such thing.”
“Asking me where I was yesterday and checking the tires of my truck, as if I’m some kind of criminal. They ought to check Clay Cosen’s tires. I heard he was up here yesterday. What did you tell them, that I poisoned your cattle?”
“No, I never—”
“And I have to find out from the police that you’ve got cows dying up here.”
“Floyd, it only just happened.”
“Yesterday. And you didn’t think I might want to know? I’ve got my own herd to protect.” He pointed in the direction of his pastures, across the road and down the hill. His pasture was rocky and more wooded, because her ancestors had invested more sweat in clearing the land.
<
br /> “There’s been no contact between your cattle and mine, and you haven’t been on my property in two weeks or more. Your herd is in no danger.”
Floyd’s gaze flicked away, and he pursed his lips. Had he been on her land?
His gaze swung back to hers. “If there is no danger, then why did they quarantine your herd?”
“A precaution.”
“I understand that one of your dead cows had green stuff in its mouth. That’s not normal.”
If Floyd knew that, then everyone else did. “Who told you that?”
He didn’t answer, just continued on. “What if it gets in the water? What if it’s airborne? Three cows don’t just drop. Something killed them.”
“Floyd, I have to go,” she said.
The day just got worse from there. Izzie spent the afternoon waiting for information outside the necropsy tent of the State Office of Veterinarian Services. By day’s end, she knew only that the cows had showed renal and liver damage, mucus in the lungs and swelling in their brains. Cause of death was ruled as sudden cardiac arrest in all three. As to why, well, that was the question. What was it, and was it contagious?
The best answer she received was that more tests were needed. On the way back to her truck, Izzie found Chief Gabe Cosen speaking to Clay, who was sweat-stained, saddle-worn and sexy as hell. Clay noticed her approach and gave her a sad smile.
“Didn’t think you’d be back up here,” she said to Clay. “After your boss warned you off.”
Chief Gabe Cosen quirked his brow at her. Clay’s brother was handsome with classic good looks and that distinctive angular jaw shared by all the Cosen brothers. But it was only Clay who made her heart pound.
“I was just telling Clay that I’d served you notice to collect the rest of your herd. I’m sorry, Izzie.”
She pressed her lips together to resist the temptation of tears.
“And he told me that you hired him to have a look around yesterday.”
Of course Clay told his brother. Did she really expect him to pick her needs over his brother’s investigation?
“I’m looking into who cut your fences. Sorry for your troubles.” Gabe tipped his hat, the gray Stetson the tribal police wore in the cold season. He turned to Clay. “Well, I’ve got to verify what you found.” With that the chief of police made a hasty retreat.
“What did you find?”
“I wanted to tell you yesterday, but you’d gone when I got back here, and I didn’t think you wanted me knocking on your front door.”
That made her flush.
“Was I wrong about that?”
Izzie thought of her mother’s earlier tizzy and shook her head. She let her shoulders slump. She lived for the day that her brothers were old enough to take over, and she could live her own life. But from the way it looked now, there would be nothing to pass along to them. Izzie rallied. She could not let that happen. No one and nothing would stop her from retrieving every last cow.
“I’ve got to get them back,” she said.
Clay motioned to her truck and lowered the back gate. Then he offered her a hand up. They sat side by side amid the comings and goings of inspectors, livestock managers, tribal council. More than one cast them a cursory glance, and she wondered which ones would be reporting to their wives, who would report to her mother later on. Her mother had connections like the roots of an ancient pinyon pine. They were branched and deep.
“It looks like the rodeo,” Izzie muttered.
“Yeah.” Clay surveyed their surroundings and then focused on her. “Izzie, you hired me to give you a report.”
“I can’t pay you now.” She lowered her head, fighting against the burning in her throat. Crying in front of Clay was too humiliating, so she cleared her throat and gritted her teeth until the constriction eased.
Clay placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She glanced up, eyes somehow still dry.
“Izzie, you had a heck of a big truck up here. Only left yesterday.”
“You mean the earth-moving machinery, bulldozer and dump trucks?”
“No, I mean an eighteen-wheeler, actually, two of them.”
“Eighteen-wheelers? Yesterday. Eighteen-wheelers can’t haul dirt.”
“That’s right. But they were here. And they were loading and unloading the trucks. Moving contents from one to another. Five guys.”
“What were they doing up here?”
“Not certain.”
She knew that look. He had suspicions.
“What, Clay?”
“Moonshining, maybe, or drugs.”
“You mean stashing drugs here?” She glanced around, half expecting to see a pile of boxes. She’d heard about the Mexican cartels using Rez land for holding their illegal merchandise, guns, drugs and people because treaty restrictions prevented federal authorities from entering sacred lands and from conducting investigations without obtaining permission first.
“But that wouldn’t kill my cows.”
“It might. If they were cooking up here.”
“Cooking what?”
“Crystal meth.”
Izzie rocked backward as confusion wrinkled her brow.
“I don’t understand.”
“There are fumes, by-products. They are poisonous.”
“Poisonous?”
“Gabe is checking for residue.”
Izzie straightened as a ray of light broke through the clouds. If Clay was right, then there was nothing wrong with her herd. She could get them back. She could still keep her promise to her father.
“They’re not sick!” Izzie threw herself into Clay’s arms. “Oh, thank you!”
He stiffened for just a moment, and then he wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t know how it happened. She was pressed against him as relief flooded through her, replaced a moment later with blinding white heat. Her body tingled. She tipped her head back, offering Clay her mouth. He did not hesitate but swooped down, angling his head as he kissed her greedily. Her fingers raked his back as she hovered between the sweetness of the contact of their mouths and the need for so much more.
“Isabella Mary Nosie!”
Izzie recognized her mother’s sharp admonition and pushed off Clay’s chest at the same moment he released her. The result was that she rocked dangerously on the tailgate, and only Clay’s quick reflexes kept her from toppling to the ground. He freed her arm the moment she regained her equilibrium and slid to his feet.
Izzie faced her mother, who stood with eyes blazing with fury as she glared at her eldest daughter. Izzie tried to keep her head up, but she found herself shrinking under her mother’s censure and the curious stares of the men she had forgotten were even there.
“What do you think you are doing?” asked her mother.
Clay looked to her, but all she could do was stammer, so he answered instead.
“Izzie asked me to help her figure out what happened to her cows.”
Her mother shot her a look, and Izzie nodded.
“Well, that’s a fine how-do-you-do.” She turned to Izzie. “He’s a felon. You don’t ask felons to do police work.”
Izzie found her tongue. “He’s not a felon.”
Her mother laughed. “Criminal, then. A skunk can’t change his stripe, and this one is just like his father. Now you come along home with me this instant. If word of this gets out, I’ll die of shame.”
Izzie straightened her spine. “No, Mom. I can’t. I’ve got work to do.”
Her mother gasped and then glared, but Izzie held her ground, drawing a gentle strength from Clay, who stood silent by her side.
“Work? Is that what you call it? You said you were up here to get our cattle back. Instead I find you fiddling with this...trash.”
Beside her, Clay
showed no sign that the insult had landed. He remained still and relaxed, propped against the back of her truck.
“Go home, Mom.”
“I don’t like it,” she said at last and wheeled away in the direction she had come.
Izzie sagged against the tailgate, feeling suddenly like a kite that had lost the buoyant wind.
“What did I just do?” she whispered.
Clay’s mouth quirked. “You stood up to your mother.”
Chapter Seven
Despite Clay’s theory about the possibility of illegal drug activity, Clay’s boss had received orders from Franklin Soto to collect and quarantine Izzie’s herd until such time as they were shown to be disease-free. So late Wednesday morning Clay rode beside Mr. Donner in the big cattle truck toward Izzie’s place, followed by a pickup with two more cowboys pulling a four-horse trailer. His boss had an ATV for herding, which was now in the back of the pickup.
Donner had called Izzie before their arrival to inform her that her herd would be collected today. They were working with the tribal livestock coordinator, who currently rode behind them in his pickup with the tribal council member Arnold Tessay. Mr. Pizarro managed grazing permits for the tribe and wanted a look at the area that was causing all the fuss in full daylight, so Tessay had agreed to ride him up there.
Back in Black Mountain, Franklin Soto, the tribe’s livestock inspector, was waiting to take custody of her herd.
Clay fiddled with his lariat, dreading the task of rounding up the rest of Izzie’s cattle.
“You remember me telling you that reality is less important than perception,” said Donner.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you kissing Isabella Nosie before God and everyone has put me in a tight spot.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“You stay away from that gal or folks will assume that her special favors to you are getting her special treatment from us.”
Clay’s jaw clenched as he considered the gossip he might have started by kissing Izzie. It had all happened so fast, and he hadn’t thought. He needed to think. Not thinking, taking things as they came. It had all gotten him into trouble. He didn’t want that again.
