by Carolina Mac
“Jacky can look in the police computer and see the latest on Micky Swain. I’ll call and tell him to do it this morning.”
Clay nodded. “If we knew where Swain was we could watch him.”
The dogs barked and ran off the porch in a hurry. “There’s the painters,” I said. “Maybe they’ll finish the green today.”
“I’m not sure I love the dark green,” said Clay.
“You voted for it.”
“Under duress.” He smiled.
“Get out of here, Clay. Practice for Friday night.” I went outside to see if the painters needed to see me and they didn’t seem to. They went about their business without help from anyone. I turned to go back inside, and a red Bronco came flying in the laneway.
“No, it’s Fiona,” I mumbled. “I don’t want to see her.”
She hopped out of her truck smiling at me. “Morning, Logan. I thought I’d pay you a courtesy call and have a look at the herd. Some of the cows must be impregnated by now if the bulls are doing their job and the cows should be checked.”
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go take a look.”
Fiona dawdled around the three fields for about an hour before she was finished and finally left. Thankfully she didn’t say anything personal to me although I caught her looking closely at my butt a couple of times.
I sat with Clay on the porch after she left and said, “I’m going to scout us out a new vet. I don’t want Fiona coming out here and surprising me when I didn’t even call her.”
Clay raised an eyebrow, his guitar across his knee. “I thought we had a sick cow or something. I didn’t know she just dropped by.”
“Now that she’s done it once, it might become a habit,” I said, “and I don’t want that. Especially if Linda is here.”
Clay nodded.
“What’s wrong?” I could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t happy.
“My shoulder is giving me trouble. Not so much in the playing, but I can’t hold my guitar the right way. I’m not going to be able to play it on Friday.”
“Whether you can play your guitar or not, you’re going to sing, so stop stressing about it. You’ll be able to play soon. Maybe not by Friday, but soon.”
“I know you’re right, Logy. The trial thing has me undone and I’m being a butthead.”
“Saddle War and go for a nice long ride. That will help you relax. Always does it for me.”
Clay nodded. “Good suggestion. I’m going to do that.”
Sheriff’s Office. Preston.
JACK sat at his desk and wrote up his report like Ivan showed him. Ivan also taught him how to access everything he’d need on the police computer and Jack made notes on how to do it, the passwords he needed and everything else he would never remember. When Ivan went on break, Jack gave it a shot.
“Logy wants me to look up Micky Swain. Let me see if I can find the scumball.”
Following the steps he’d written down, it took a while for Jack to become familiar with the screens and he jockeyed back and forth a few times before he got to where he wanted to go. But finally, Micky Swain’s ugly mug shot was on the screen with records of everything he’d done in the past and recently.
Jack printed off all the information to take home to Logan and there was pages of it. Micky Swain was a career criminal. Jack grabbed the sheets from the printer, folded them up and stuck them in his pocket.
He’d noticed that Swain’s address was still listed as the same trailer they’d been to halfway to Lubbock. Last time the cops went to arrest him, he wasn’t there. Did they try once and just forget about him?
Swain and his mouthy wife, Carson Wagoner, stole Presto and Swain was out there walking around free as a bird. That wasn’t justice in anybody’s book.
Ain’t fair. I’m gonna arrest his ass.
Fuming about Micky Swain, Jack was surprised when Ivan came running back from his smoke break hollering at him.
“We got a call, McKenna. Let’s roll.”
Jessup Spinner’s Ranch.
WITH siren wailing, Ivan passed the McKenna ranch and slowed down at their next door neighbor’s gateway.
“Mr. Spinner called the sheriff?” asked Jack.
“Says six of his horses have gone missing.”
“He’s got a lot of horses,” said Jack. “Don’t know how he keeps track.”
Old Jessup Spinner was rocking on his porch with his pipe in his mouth, smoke circling around the gray rat’s nest on his head, when Ivan parked the squad car and hopped out.
Jack followed at a slower pace, still hung over from the night before and his pounding headache didn’t seem to be getting any better.
Jessup Spinner pried himself out of the rocker and held onto the porch rail to support himself until he grabbed his cane and eased his way down the steps.
“Hey, Jacky boy. I heard that old fucker Tucker rounded you up. Never should’ve let that happen, boy. He’s gonna run you into the ground before you know it.”
“Hope not, Mr. Spinner,” said Jack. “I’ve got thirty days probation to see if I hate the job. I’ll try my best to avoid him running me down. Which horses are missing?”
“I went through them this morning trying to figure which ones were gone. I count them every morning when I feed them and every single morning I count to forty-one.”
“What did you count to today, Mr. Spinner?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Did they get out of the field and run off?” asked Ivan.
“Do I look stupid, Ivan?” asked Old Jessup.
“No, sir. I was just putting a possibility out there for your consideration.”
“Bullshit. You think I’m senile, but I know damned well six of my best and brightest are gone. Now y’all go get them back.”
“We’ll need descriptions of each one,” said Ivan, “for identification purposes.” He pulled out his black notebook.
Jessup pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. “Here you go. I’m a mile ahead of y’all.”
Ivan took the paper and tried to read what it said. He shook his head and handed it to Jack.
Dun
Bay Roan
Smoky Cream
Palomino
Sorrel
Red Dun
Jack nodded. “Good enough, Mr. Spinner. We’ll look into it for you. Hear any trucks in the night?”
“Nope. Heard nothing.” He pointed with his cane. “And my beauties are right there in the field behind the barn. I would’ve heard a truck.”
“Let’s see if the horse thieves parked on the road and led the horses out of the field real quiet like,” said Jack.
Ivan nodded.
Jack jogged out to the road and checked the shoulder up and down on both sides. “Look here, Ivan. Fresh tire tracks and this was a big truck.”
“Yup. Duallies. You’re right, Jack.”
“Should be a lot of hoof prints coming from the field heading this way and some boot prints too.”
“Yup. I’ll get some pictures.” Ivan pulled out his cell phone and took a lot of pictures between the road and the field where the horses were pastured.
Jack talked to Spinner while Ivan took pictures. “Anybody been by lately looking at the horses, Mr. Spinner? Like maybe saying they were interested in buying a couple? Like that?”
“Umm… let me think. Last week, I think. Uh huh. Last week a couple fellas said they heard I had some nice horses and they might be in the market for a couple or three.”
“They give you names or a card?” asked Jack.
“I’m trying to think, Jacky.” Spinner leaned heavily on his cane. “They acted friendly n’all and said one of my neighbors told them to drop by.”
“Which neighbor?”
“Yep, I remember now. They said Buster sent them by.”
Goddam that fucking Buster.
“Buster Tate?” Jack tried to use his calm voice.
“Yep, I remember now. The one guy said that.”
J
ack pulled out the new notebook he hadn’t written anything in and turned to the first page. “Can you tell me what these guys looked like? Age? Tall? Short? Like that?”
“One was short and kinda chunky and he wasn’t too friendly, and the other one was a dark-haired kid. Like a helper or a ranch hand, and he didn’t say nothing. The chunky guy did the talking.”
“Did you talk price or anything like that?”
Old Jessup shook his head. “Nope, we never got that far as I recall. They thanked me for showing them the horses and they went on their way. I never thought no more of it.”
“We have to think about it now, Mr. Spinner. Those two men could have been scouting out your ranch to rob you.”
“I guess that’s true, Jacky boy.” Spinner looked at him in a quizzical way. “Couldn’t see you being much of a deputy sheriff, son, you being all wild like crazy Kenny and born without a lick of sense, but I think you might be all right.”
“Thanks, Mr. Spinner.”
They left old Jessup on the porch smoking his pipe and jumped into the cruiser. Ivan turned onto the county road and Jack said, “Drive right through Broken Spur and go south.”
“Why? We have to go back to the station and fill out the report on the stolen horses.”
“That has to wait, Ivan. First we’re going to get the horses back for Mr. Spinner before the horse thieves get a chance to sell them.”
Ivan stared at Jack across the console. “You know who stole the horses?”
“Not for sure, but I have a hunch. More of an educated guess you might call it. Turn here.” Jack pointed at the sign for the quarter line. “Keep going about five more miles.” The road looked different in the daylight as Jack tried to remember markers from being there once before. “Okay, slow down. We’re here. This is Bobby Paisley’s ranch and there’s the horse trailer parked by the barn. Let’s go.”
Ivan parked and hopped out. He and Jack ran to the horse trailer that had the motor running and a driver behind the wheel.
Jack pulled out his gun and said. “Turn off the engine and step out of the cab.”
“Hey, I ain’t done nothing.” The engine on the big diesel went silent and the driver jumped down.
“Open the back and show me the horses you’ve got in there,” said Jack.
The driver strode around to the back of the horse hauler and opened the door. Jack reached into his shirt pocket for the slip of paper Spinner had given him and matched up the missing horses.
“Yep, these are the stolen horses, Ivan. We’re arresting Mr. Paisley and returning these horses to Mr. Spinner.”
“What am I supposed to do?” asked the driver. “I didn’t know the horses were stolen. I was told by my boss to come pick them up. That’s all I know about it.”
“Wait here,” said Jack, “and you can deliver them back to the rightful owner in ten minutes. Where’s Paisley?”
“In the barn.” The driver leaned on the fence and lit up a smoke while Ivan and Jack ran to the barn.
Bobby Paisley and his helper Dean Morton were laughing together in front of a pen full of pigs.
“You’re both under arrest for stealing horses,” said Jack. He pointed his gun at them while Ivan cuffed their hands behind their backs.
“You have to prove it, McKenna,” snarled Paisley, “and you’ll have a hard time doing that.”
“The stolen horses are on your property, Mr. Paisley,” said Ivan. “Shouldn’t be too hard to connect the dots.” Ivan marched Paisley out to the cruiser and Jack took Dean. They secured them in the back and locked the doors.
“Dean’s on bail for burning our barn down,” said Jack. “He shouldn’t be running around loose.”
Ivan’s eyes widened as he took a closer look at Dean Morton.
“I’ll ride in the horse hauler with the driver,” said Jack, “and we’ll take the horses back to Spinner’s ranch. You follow and pick me up then we’ll take these boys to the lockup.”
“Good plan,” said Ivan.
Spinner’s Ranch.
HALF an hour later, the big rig pulled into Jessup Spinner’s place. “Drive down to that first field,” said Jack. “That’s where he keeps his horses.”
“I was never here before, honest,” said the driver. “First I seen these horses was this morning when I was sent to pick them up at the Paisley ranch.”
“I believe you,” said Jack. “You came in the middle of something.”
“Exactly.”
Old Jessup shuffled along and watched Jack and the driver unload the horses and lead them through the gate back into the corral. “Can’t believe you got them back for me, Jacky boy. I’m gonna phone up that fucker Tucker and tell him what a good boy you are.”
“Thanks, Mr. Spinner. Before you make the call, I need you to do one thing for me.”
“What can I do?”
“I want you to look at the two guys in the back of the cruiser and tell me if they were the ones who came here last week.”
“You got the thieving bastards with y’all?”
“Yep. In the back of the squad.”
“Hot damn. Let me see them.”
Jack walked Old Jessup back to the cruiser and he peered in the back windows at Bobby Paisley and his helper, Dean Morton. “Yep, for sure those are the two assholes who were here, Jacky. Can’t believe you caught them so fast. You should be the next sheriff. I’ll vote for you. We’ll run Tucker right outta Dodge.” He chuckled.
Jack couldn’t remember when he’d ever seen Jessup Spinner so happy.
McKenna Ranch.
THE painters were busy with the second coat of dark green and Clay agreed to ride out to the field to time me before it got too hot. We saddled up and went back to the field of young steers for some practice time.
“You entered on Saturday, Logy?”
“No, I didn’t want to go against Rip and Chuck. I’ll go in Fairmont County next week and give it a shot. Want to see what my times are like today. Might not be ready at all.”
Clay grinned. “Can’t wait until you’re ready, Logy. All those rodeos we went to with Daddy cheering you on. Best times ever seeing you win time after time.”
“That’s the problem in a nutshell, Clay. People will see my name on the program, and they’ll expect me to win—and what if I don’t?”
“Uh huh. See what you mean.” Clay pulled out the stopwatch. “The comeback trail is going to be tough for you, Logy. Give me your best shot.”
Sheriff’s Office. Preston.
JACK and Ivan marched their prisoners into Sheriff Tucker’s office. “Two for the lockup,” said Jack.
Ivan was fairly dancing in front of the sheriff’s desk. “They stole six horses from Jessup Spinner. He gave us a positive ID and we found the horses on Mr. Paisley’s property.”
“I know all about it, boys.” Sheriff Tucker sat pushed back in his leather chair grinning like a fat Cheshire cat. “Old Jessup is mighty pleased y’all found his horses and arrested the culprits so quickly. He couldn’t be happier with our office if he tried. Lock them up, boys. A good morning’s work.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.”
McKenna Ranch.
I made burgers for supper and Jack arrived just as I was taking them off the grill on the back porch. “Hey, Jacky, how was day two in law enforcement?”
“Better, Logy. Let me get my uniform off and I’ll tell y’all the details.”
Clay and I listened to the story about Spinner’s horses and we couldn’t believe Bobby Paisley took them.
“He is a thief,” I said. “He didn’t get arrested for taking Presto, but he should have. He was definitely in on it.”
“Oh, for sure he was,” said Jack. “Paisley’s as dirty as a grease trap.”
Clay made a face as he took a bite of his burger.
Jack pulled a wad of paper out of the pocket of his jeans and pushed it across the table. “Printed out everything there was on Micky Swain for you, Logy. See what you can do with it.”
&nbs
p; “Hey, thanks, Jacky. You were so busy rounding up horses and horse thieves today I thought you might have forgotten.”
“Nope. Something good happened too.” He grinned.
“What?”
“Dakota texted me to see if we were still on for Friday night at the Spur.”
“Can’t wait to meet her, Jacky,” said Clay. “If she’s texting during the day that means she’s hot for you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that’s true?”
Clay shrugged. “Common knowledge.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Thursday, May 21st.
McKenna Ranch.
I shut myself in the office after Jack left for the sheriff’s office. He was in a lot better shape this morning and after finding the horses the day before and arresting Bobby Paisley, Jack seemed to have a renewed interest in his deputy position.
The wad of paper Jacky had given me on Micky Swain went back for several years and covered numerous crimes. It would take time to read all the good stuff he’d been caught doing. Jack reminded me that the stuff in the police reports covered only the times he’d been caught—not all the other times he’d broken the law and got away with it. Good point, Jacky boy.
I’d barely started reading when the painters arrived. I stepped out on the porch and Bob Randall gave me a shout out. “Finishing up all the white trim today, Mr. McKenna, then we’re about done.”
“Thank you. The barn is looking fantastic.” Compared to our old barn with the boards blackened from age and from the weather, any barn would look better.
I went back to my office and started reading again.
Sheriff’s Office. Preston.
JACK and Ivan finished up their report from the day before and Ivan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“Come on,” said Jack. “I want to tie up a loose end on yesterday’s case.”
“What loose end?” asked Ivan.
“Mr. Spinner said when Paisley and Dean showed up to scout out the horses, Paisley told Mr. Spinner that Buster Tate sent him.”
“Did I forget that, or did you leave it out of the report?” asked Ivan.
