The Wrangler

by Lindsay McKenna

  Griff stood near the huge trunk of a tree to hopefully remain invisible. Holding his breath, he slowly scanned the lake through the binoculars. Nothing but the lap of water against the shore could be heard. Wait! Breath released, Griff tried to keep the specs steady. Yes…there!

  He barely saw the outline of the nose and wing of a floatplane. The moonlight was poor but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Griff could make out a bit of the aircraft. He saw movement, but the blackness of the surrounding trees made it impossible to actually see the people passing something from one person to another. What were they doing? Griff thought he saw a boat next to the plane. Dark figures were moving what appeared to be boxes or bales from the plane to the boat.

  “Damn,” he muttered softly. The plane was situated on the forest-service side of the lake. It was well camouflaged by the shadow of the mountains looming on the horizon. He was too far away to see anything conclusive. Josh had warned him not to get too close, and he was unarmed to boot.

  Lifting his binoculars, Griff strained to see through the night. Josh had told him to try and get the plane’s tail or fuselage number. Every plane in the USA had to have them. That way, law enforcement could look up the number, find the owner and track it down. The floatplane had shifted so only its nose and propeller were now vaguely visible. Frustrated, Griff grimaced. He’d have to wait. When it took off, maybe he would see more. But the sky was completely black. What he needed was a set of night goggles to cut through the darkness and see better.

  For the next twenty minutes, Griff waited. At one point, he briefly saw a boat leave the plane and head for shore. After the boat left, the plane’s engine started up with a cough and sputter. Moving down to the shore and making sure he was hidden by the brush, Griff crouched and lifted the binoculars to his eyes. The plane’s engine fired up, loud and noisy this time, echoing across the lake. Coming out of the shadows, Griff saw the floatplane for the first time. The plane was gray colored and blended in beautifully with the night. The thin, milky moonlight barely outlined it. Excited, he rapidly scanned the fuselage for the numbers. There were none! He hurriedly swept the fuselage and tail once again, thinking he’d missed them, but again saw nothing. The plane sped up, heading south along the vertical lake’s smooth surface. In moments, it was airborne, water dripping off the floats as it gained altitude. Griff followed it until he could no longer see it in the night sky.

  Turning, he searched for the people in the boat. They were nowhere he could detect. Hunting the shoreline in hopes of seeing movement, Griff found nothing. He squatted and waited, hoping to hear the sound of a car engine. Nothing. The night had swallowed up the activity. He waited another fifteen minutes before pushing to his feet and walking quietly to the hidden truck. He would call Josh in the morning with his findings.

  * * *

  “NO NUMBERS ON A FUSELAGE is a dead giveaway it’s a drug plane,” Josh told Griff the next morning.

  Griff had made the call from his bedroom at five in the morning, not wanting Gus or Val to overhear the conversation. “And the gray color?”

  “Another sign it’s a drug flight. Gray blends in and isn’t easy to spot from the air or the ground.”

  “I need a pair of night goggles,” Griff told him. “I could see shapes, but not faces. I couldn’t identify any of the people.”

  “I’ll send you some equipment,” Josh said. “Right now, this is secret to everyone, including the sheriff’s department. If you are able to get more info, some photos, then we’ll bring the sheriff in on it. What I want to know is who is behind it.”

  “Downing?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping, but we don’t know. Downing is very, very careful. He hires men by phone, never letting them know who he is. He sends money and instructions by mail and courier, not by email. We can’t indict him because he’s not given them his name. He uses throwaway cell phones by the dozen so he can’t be tracked. No, he’s wily and he’s careful.”

  “But if you’re thinking he’s involved then in all likelihood, his trucking company is the transporter of these drugs.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking, but thinking doesn’t make it so. This may have nothing to do with him. It could be another drug dealer moving into the territory, testing it out and seeing if the floatplane deliveries are a good way to get the drugs into this region of Wyoming.”

  Rubbing his jaw, Griff said, “The more we know, the less we know.”

  Josh laughed bitterly. “Welcome to my world.”

  “I’ll stick to ranching, thank you. I can get my hands around it and I see what I’m dealing with.”

  Josh became serious. “The FBI is appreciative of your help, Griff. Trying to pin down Downing is a long-term mission. Like I said, he’s careful. We’ve had some of his trucks pulled over for inspections and never found drugs. And we can’t do this too often or he’ll get suspicious. So far, he’s clean, but we know he’s dirty.”

  “I know he is too,” Griff said, “but it comes from being around him and knowing his family’s rotten history.”

  “Right, which is why we’re glad you’re there sitting in the catbird seat. You’ll get the night-vision equipment in two days,” Josh promised.

  Slipping the cell phone in his back pocket, Griff stood immobile for a moment. His mind churned with worry. If this was a drug plane, it placed Val and Miss Gus at risk. Should he tell them? No, Josh wanted it kept a secret. Still, he felt anxious as he opened the door to go downstairs and join Val for breakfast. Literally, the Bar H could suddenly be the center of a drug cartel trading arena. Griff knew from the FBI agent’s warning, those who were in the trade would kill to protect their secrets.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  HIDING BEHIND THE brush, Griff adjusted the night-seeing goggles. The floatplane had just landed and no longer cast a shadow on Long Lake. His heart beat fast to underscore the threat of danger. With a camera that Josh had sent along, Griff could see a grainy green outline of the floatplane. There was a pilot who climbed out on the float and two men in a boat who docked next to it. Griff was just inside Bar H property as he clicked the camera. The plane was a good half mile away and he had no idea if the digital images would reveal what the FBI agent wanted to see.

  He couldn’t pick up any conversation. The three men hustled quickly and were off-loading bale after bale of what was probably marijuana. Within ten minutes, the plane was on its way, heading into the darkened sky once more. A sound caught his attention: a truck. Who was it? His heart rate soared. Turning, he saw it was Val in the other pickup, the lights off. Taking off the goggles, Griff stuffed them into the back pocket of his Levi’s and slipped the camera into his shirt pocket. Emerging out of the brush, he heard her gasp.

  “It’s okay,” Griff called softly. “It’s just me.”

  Val pressed her hand across her hammering heart. She came around the front of the truck to where Griff stood. “I heard the plane. When I saw the truck, I knew you were around here somewhere.” She peered through the brush at the quiet lake. “Something’s going on,” she said in a low voice, coming to a halt beside Griff. “What did you see?”

  Val’s hair was mussed and Griff could still see drowsiness in her eyes. Josh had warned him not to divulge what he was doing. But he just couldn’t lie to Val anymore, not when things were getting serious with this plane situation. This was her property and Griff knew she was concerned about the mysterious plane. He wanted to reach out and smooth the rebellious strands from her cheek. She was in a pair of levi’s’, white blouse and a long-sleeved denim jacket. Plus, she already had tr
ust issues without him adding to them by keeping such important things from her. He pulled out the night goggles. “I need to confide in you, Val,” he said. “Can we go to my truck and talk?”

  Confused, she gazed up into his darkened face. The seriousness of his low voice sent fear through her. “Sure…”

  In the truck, Griff handed her the night goggles. He told her he was working as a mole to try and apprehend Downing. The plane was a twist, he confided, and the FBI agent wasn’t sure if Curt was connected to it or not.

  Studying the goggles, Val frowned. “You’re more than meets the eye.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before,” Griff said, holding her stare. Above all, he didn’t want Val to distrust him. And yet, he couldn’t blame her if she did. Griff knew this event could break the fragile bonds that had just recently been built between them. He felt his stomach tie into a knot. Would Val retreat from him? Torn, Griff knew he had to tell her the truth whether the FBI agent wanted him to or not. “I understand your concern.”

  Nodding, she handed the goggles back to him. “You’re basically operating as an undercover agent.” Her heart twisted. “Did you get the job here on our ranch just to follow Downing?”

  Griff was alarmed. He didn’t want her to think that, not for a second. “No. Not at all. I’m not being paid to do this, Val, and I needed a job. The FBI agent felt since I was coming home and they already had Downing on their radar, I could do this as a favor to them.” He told her how he’d met Josh during the Wall Street crash and had helped them behind the scenes. He shrugged and said, “The FBI is shorthanded and they can’t put an agent out here to watch this guy. I was sort of a civilian intermediary, is all.”

  “I see…so you aren’t taking money for this?”

  “None.” He searched her face and saw she was deep in thought. Griff wanted to reach out and hold her hand but he didn’t dare. He could understand if she was unsure of him being the man she’d thought he was. “It was a favor, nothing more.”

  “You had no idea this plane was involved in drug smuggling?”

  “Not at first, no.” Griff pulled out the small camera and showed it to her. “The agent wants me to email him these photos I took. Based upon them he said that if it proves there are drugs involved, he’s sending an agent out here to investigate. That’s the end of my work with them on this.”

  “What about Downing?”

  “That’s an ongoing investigation on their part.”

  Val looked toward the lake. “And no one knows if this drug smuggling is connected with him?”

  “That’s right.” Griff tucked the camera away. “I’m hoping the FBI can identify these men.” He managed a grimace. “I’ve never been taught to investigate.”

  Mouth quirking, Val said in a whisper, “This all has to be tied to the burning of our cabins, Griff. Did the FBI say anything to you about the arson?”

  “I told them about it, but there are no proven ties as yet.”

  Shaking her head, Val stared at him. “I worry about Gus. She’s not herself, Griff. You aren’t going to tell her about this, are you?”

  “I won’t say anything unless you want me to, Val. I can see she’s been shaken to the core by the cabins being torched.”

  “She’s in her mid-eighties. Older people don’t roll well with the shocks of life like us younger ones.” She studied Griff, his face dark and almost predatory looking. “If I hadn’t come out here tonight, would you have told me about all of this?”

  Griff had been told not to say a thing but over the course of the night, even before Val had shown up, he’d been thinking about it. “Yes, I would have. It’s your land, your home and you have a right to know what’s going on. I don’t want you to come out here alone again under any circumstances, Val. I’m not going to leave you or Miss Gus open to danger.” God knew it was the last thing he wanted for them. Griff saw the confusion and hurt in her eyes. To hell with it. He reached out, his hand covering hers. “I know how this looks. That you can’t trust me. I’m sorry if I hurt you, Val. It was the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

  Griff desperately wanted Val to believe him. Panic unwound deep within him. What if she didn’t? Suddenly, as never before, Griff realized this one incident could kill whatever hope he had of being with her. His desperation deepened as he saw Val begin to waver. His fingers tightened around hers, a silent plea for her to continue to trust him despite the revelations.

  Val felt the warm strength of Griff’s hand coupled with the anxiety in his shadowed green eyes. She curved her fingers around his. “I…” she choked out in a strangled voice, “believe you.”

  Griff turned to her. He released her hand and gently cupped her shoulders. “Val, I promise your trust in me is not in vain. I know we’ve never spoken about it, but ever since that kiss on the dance floor…” He gulped and forced himself to go on. “More than anything, I don’t want you to not trust me. I know it’s hard for you.” His hands tightened briefly on her shoulders. “I know how this looks. It’s as if I’ve gone behind your back to do an investigation, to keep secrets from you. But it’s not true.” Griff saw hesitation and another emotion he couldn’t define in Val’s gaze. Releasing her, he sat back as she digested his hoarse plea. Never had he wanted anything more than for Val to continue to open up and share her life with him. Griff realized all the money in the world could never buy what she was slowly starting to share with him. It made the situation even more delicate.

  Opening her hands, Val said, “I understand what you did, Griff. And why. Until tonight, you didn’t know anything more than I did. I suspected drug running, to tell you the truth.” She saw his brows move up in surprise. Giving him a sour grin, she said, “Hey, I was an intel officer in the military. I also went out on undercover drug missions.”

  “I never thought of it, but that makes complete sense. He rallied beneath her slight smile. “When did you suspect drugs?”

  “A week ago,” Val admitted, and she gestured toward the lake. “It had all the earmarks of a drug drop. We dealt with this in the Middle East, too. People are pretty creative in how they transport drugs. And drug drops from planes were one of the many ways they did it. Only there weren’t many lakes around where I was. They’d just drop the goods out among the sand dunes.”

  He sighed, seeing he had met his match in Val. She was his complete equal. He was afraid to ask the question but it had to be done. “So where does this leave us?” He was even more afraid of her answer.

  “No harm, no foul, Griff. You leveled with me when I asked you about it. Val hesitated and then added, “I trust you, Griff. You’re like a dream come true to me. I just need time…and you’re giving me that. It’s more than anyone could ask.”

  Griff swallowed hard as Val lifted her chin and looked directly at him. He saw tears shimmering in her eyes. Reaching out, he threaded his fingers through her soft, mussed hair. “Thank you. I never want to break the trust we’ve built, Val. Ever.” Griff wanted to kiss her. But that had to be her choice. He’d done enough tonight to jeopardize the fragile connection strung between their hearts. He wanted to do nothing to break it.

  “We need to get back to the ranch house. I’m tired and I’m sure you are too.”

  “I’ve got to send these photos to the FBI agent first,” Griff said. “I’ll use the desktop computer in your office if that’s all right?”

  Nodding, Val slid off the seat after opening the passenger door. “Yes, that would be fine.” She stood there, hand on the door. “Will you let me know what the agent says?”

  “You’ll know everything,” Griff promised, his voice deep with conviction. He saw Val’s expression lighten. The confusion left her eyes. His heart pounded with renewed hope.

  “Great… I’ll see you at breakfast then.”

  * * *

  GRIFF INVITED VAL OUT TO THE PORCH that ev
ening. Miss Gus had gone to bed and they’d just finished washing and drying the dishes. He handed her a cup of coffee and they walked to the darkened porch. Sitting in the swing with her, he said in a low tone, “Josh Gordon called me before dinner.”

  Val sat a few feet away from Griff as the swing rocked gently back and forth. She held a mug of coffee between her hands. “And?”

  “They’ve identified the plane. It’s from Juarez, Mexico. And it’s a known drug aircraft. Josh said it was part of the Garcia cartel.”

  “Phew,” Val whispered, meeting his worried gaze. “Bingo. I was right.”

  “You were,” he said, proud of her. “They identified one man. The other two aren’t in the FBI system.”

  “Who? A local?”

  “Yes. Zach Mason.”

  “What?” Val sat up, startled by the answer. “But he’s Iris Mason’s grandson! Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Griff said with apology. “Apparently Zach was in the Teton sheriff’s photo array. He’s been picked up three times for possession of marijuana. The FBI’s facial recognition technology identified him from a mug shot they had as one of the two men in the boat off-loading the drugs.” He saw Val’s face crumple.

  “This is awful, Griff. I know Iris. She’s tough, honest and a bulwark to everyone in this valley. She even helped Gus a couple of times. I just can’t believe this.” Val stood, paced the porch with her coffee in hand, upset.

  Griff stood and walked over to her. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

  “Damn,” Val whispered, stopping and resting her mug on the rail. She stared out into the night, wrestling with a lot of feelings. Griff’s nearness gave her a sense of stability in her suddenly out-of-control world. “Okay, what does this have to do with Downing? Is he implicated in this, Griff?”