It took a second for the significance of his statement to register.
“You’re saying that counting those dead cows, you would have three more head than you thought you had?”
“Curious, isn’t it?” But there was no amusement in his crooked smile.
“But all three of the dead cows carried Cee Bar brands and ear tags,” Dallas reminded him.
“That’s what bothers me.” Quint continued to stare at the papers. “It’s possible we could have missed one cow when we made our tally. Even two. But I find it very hard to believe that we could have overlooked three.”
Dallas had to agree. The ranch wasn’t that large and the number of places where a cow might escape detection were very few.
“How could it happen?” she wondered aloud.
“A better question might be—where were those three cows when we made our count?” Quint countered. “We came up twenty-seven head short of the number the ranch was carrying on its books. I assumed they’d been stolen. But it does make me wonder if those three dead cows were part of the stolen twenty-seven. And it also makes me wonder who stole them—and why they didn’t get rid of them right away.”
“Surely you don’t think Rutledge is behind this.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, the possibility didn’t seem as far-fetched as Dallas first thought. “He might have kept them if he was planning to infect them with anthrax and run them back on Cee Bar land to die. All of it—the quarantine, the vet bills, the publicity—fits right into his plans,” she said. “He could have orchestrated this whole thing.”
“Proving it is another matter.”
In a sudden surge of restlessness, Dallas moved off his lap and paced away from the desk, then swung back.
“The Slash R land borders the west pasture where all the dead cows were found. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had kept the stolen cattle there. That way he could have claimed they simply strayed onto his land if anyone noticed them.”
“True, but opportunity and motive aren’t enough.” Quint remained in the chair, his expression never losing its look of deep thought.
Dallas frowned. “But how could he infect your cattle without running the risk of infecting his own?”
“It wouldn’t have been all that difficult,” Quint told her. “All he needed to do was pour some grain in a feed pan, contaminate it with the bacteria, give it to the cattle, then torch the pan and anything that might have fallen on the ground. He’s already shown how adept he can be with a torch,” he added dryly. “If he played it safe, he probably slipped the cattle onto the Cee Bar right away.”
“Someone at the Slash R is bound to know about it,” she said, wondering which ones might be persuaded to talk.
But Quint shook his head in disagreement. “Rutledge would have kept a tight lid on it. I’d be surprised if there were more than one or two people involved. He certainly wouldn’t have needed more than that.”
“But where could he have gotten the anthrax?” Dallas sighed at the blank wall in her mind.
“It probably wasn’t as difficult as we’d like to believe, especially for someone with his money and influence.” Stirring at last, Quint sat forward and reached for the phone. “It might be interesting to find out if there is a research laboratory associated with any of the companies he owns.”
“Who are you calling?” Dallas asked, her curiosity high.
“An agency the family’s used before in investigations.” He paused with his hand on the phone. “After that I might try to track down a guy I worked with who was heavily into forensics. An expert can differentiate between manufactured anthrax strains and ones found in nature, but I don’t know if the natural strains have any markers that narrow them to a region.”
When he picked up the phone and dialed information, Dallas walked over to the kitchen table and sat down to listen.
The phone call to the agency led to a second, informing Jessy of his action. Tracking down his former associate took the most time and the most calls before Quint succeeded in locating him at his new post on the West Coast.
It was nearly midnight when he hung up from the last call. There had been no definitive answers to his questions, but everything was in motion to obtain them, and Quint hadn’t expected any more than that.
He stood, flexing shoulder and back muscles that had grown stiff from sitting in one position too long. Turning, he saw Dallas curled up on one of the kitchen chairs, her head cradled on arms resting on the table, sound asleep.
At the sight of her, everything smoothed out inside him, all the knots and twists straightened. There was a moment when he was content to look at her, unaware of the powerfully tender light in his eyes.
Taking pity on her, Quint moved quietly to the chair. She stirred drowsily the instant he slipped an arm under her knees and another behind her back.
“I think you’ll be more comfortable in bed,” he told her.
Her lashes lifted as she gazed at him through sleep-blurred eyes. “You’re going to carry me,” she murmured and hooked a limp arm around his neck. “I like that.”
Quint discovered that he liked the feeling, too, especially the way she nestled her face near the crook of his neck, her feathery breath all warm and moist against his skin.