“We did some negotiating,” Tanner said. “Our friend here is willing to give up his commission on the truck and sell it for the owner’s price of seven thousand. Does that suit you?”
Rose could only imagine what Tanner had threatened the man with to get the price down, but this was no time to ask questions. All she wanted was to get the truck and leave. “It suits me fine,” she said. “Let’s do some business.”
In the garage’s grimy office, it took only a few minutes to sign the paperwork and hand over the money. The garage owner was sullen and silent but made no move to challenge them. They were just finishing when a beat-up black Camaro with squealing brakes pulled up to the front of the garage. The man glanced at Tanner, as if asking permission to go. When Tanner nodded, the man left them and hurried forward to deal with his customer.
Tanner slid the pistol into the holster under his vest and handed her the signed title. “I’ll walk you to your new truck,” he said, holding the office door and closing it behind them as they walked outside. “After that, you’re on your own.”
“I guess I should thank you,” Rose said as they paused outside the truck. “I might’ve had a rough time of it if you hadn’t been there.”
“Then I’m glad I was.” He opened the door of the truck. “Be safe, Rose.”
As Rose turned to climb into the cab, he laid a brief hand on her shoulder. It was an innocent gesture, but the contact with her hypersensitive nerves triggered an alarm. She gasped and jerked around, poised to defend herself.
He stepped back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to spook you.”
She remained frozen an instant longer, then exhaled and lowered her arms. “I’m just jumpy, that’s all.”
“I understand.” He kept his distance as she climbed into the truck. “Will you be all right getting your truck licensed?” he asked her.
“Fine, assuming the folks at the motor vehicle department have better manners than our friend here. I don’t suppose I’ll see you again.”
“You never know.” He closed the door and stepped out of the way as she backed up and headed for the gate. Glancing back, she saw him standing where she’d left him. He gave her brief wave and disappeared from sight.
* * *
Tanner drove back to the ranch, side windows rolled down to let in the fresh breeze. Traffic was light on the narrow highway. Two stray cows grazed on the grass that grew in the bar ditch along the road. He pulled left to give them a wide berth.
Ferg Prescott would be waiting to hear what he’d learned from Rose. Not that there’d be much to tell. Rose Landro wasn’t much of a talker. He’d learned only that she was tough, guarded, independent to a fault, and feisty as hell.
Was she working with the cattle rustlers? If she was, she’d made a good show of hiding it. As for whether she’d really killed Prescott’s father, Tanner would never have believed such a thing. But then, as she’d brandished that pipe to defend herself, he’d seen the fury in those stunning eyes. She’d reminded him of a cornered animal, terrified and enraged.
He recalled how she’d jumped away, more scared than startled, when he’d touched her shoulder. His best guess was that Rose had been hurt in the past. She’d learned to protect herself and fight back. It wasn’t beyond belief that she’d even learned to kill, or maybe been forced to.
But that was none of his business. He was here to arrest cattle rustlers, and so far all Prescott had done was send him on wild-goose chases. He’d seen no solid evidence of thieves or, apart from Prescott’s word, found any proof that cattle were even missing. He was beginning to feel like a prop in some larger scheme. It was almost as if he was being used, and he didn’t like it.
He could confront Prescott and demand to know what was really going on. But if the powerful rancher was involved in something illegal, and masking it with the cattle rustling claim, voicing his suspicions would only get him booted off the ranch, or worse.
Whatever was happening, something didn’t feel right. It was time he stopped chasing shadows and got to the truth.
Tomorrow he’d be joining the Prescott cowboys on the roundup. After that, it might not hurt to pay to visit the Rimrock, especially if he could find an excuse that wouldn’t blow his cover.
He’d pulled up by the barn of the Prescott Ranch and was climbing out of the cab when he saw something lying on the passenger seat. The sight of it triggered a fleeting smile as he picked it up and tucked it in his pocket.
It was the black silk ribbon that had slipped off Rose’s hair.
* * *
It was well after dark when Bull drove his pickup into the ranch yard. He was hungry, dirty, and sore after a hellish day on the roundup. One of the hands had broken an arm wrestling a steer, and Jasper had driven him to the hospital, shorting the crew by two men. A yearling calf, fleeing the rope, had fallen into a ravine and had to be shot. Several other calves had diarrhea, a condition known as scours, which was never a good sign. He’d isolated the animals and told the cowhands to keep an eye on them, but he’d probably need to pay a vet to come out and check the herd. And vets didn’t work cheap.
His arthritic hip throbbed as he eased out of the truck and felt his boots crunch gravel. He didn’t want to see anybody, didn’t want to talk to anybody. All he wanted tonight was something in his belly, a hot shower, and a few hours of blessed sleep before crawling out of bed at dawn to face another day.
But that was not to be.
As he walked around the truck, he noticed an older pickup with a camper parked next to the house. There was no sign of the old Buick, but Rose was waiting in the circle of the porch light, ready to pounce on him like a hungry cat.
He swore as she came partway down the front steps. “We have to talk, Bull,” she said.
“Not tonight.” He tried to move past her, but she blocked his way. Short of shoving her aside, there was little he could do. “I’m worn out, Rose,” he said. “Anything we have to talk about can wait till morning.”