Lone Calder Star (Calder Saga 9)

Dallas had no doubt that Quint’s suspicions were true. But she needed more than that. “Because it was so ingenious, of course. And the very last thing anyone would expect.”

“You did,” Boone stated, unaware that his words were an admission of sorts.

“Experience gives me the advantage of knowing just how dirty and devious the Rutledges can be. There is very little you wouldn’t dare, is there?” Venom coated her words, and Dallas made no attempt to disguise it, aware that Boone would instantly be wary if she tried to act friendly or cooperative.

“I knew you were smart. Make sure you stay that way.” His eyes had the smug gleam of a man convinced he had the upper hand.

“I intend to.” But not in the way he meant it.

“Is Echohawk wondering if we had something to do with the anthrax?”

It was a question Dallas had expected him to ask much earlier. Her nonanswer was all prepared. “Why should he? They were Cee Bar cattle on Cee Bar land. I’m still trying to figure out how you managed that.” She looked at him with unfeigned curiosity. “After all, they’re range animals, hardly tame enough to be hand-fed. And if you set out contaminated feed, there was no guarantee it would be eaten right away—and a definite risk that it could be discovered.” She paused, not at all sure the ploy would work. “I’m curious. How did you do it?”

Mentally Dallas crossed her fingers, hoping against hope that Boone wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity to boast of his cleverness.

The wideness of his smile signaled her success. “It was a simple matter of throwing up a portable holding pen to confine them and setting out some contaminated feed for them to eat.”

“But—you would have had to do that on the Slash R land,” Dallas said, feigning surprise.

Boone shrugged. “How can it be our fault if the boundary fence is in such bad shape that a few cows stray onto Slash R range? Naturally we had to push them back on their own side.”

“Something that would have looked completely innocent to any chance passerby. But you ran the risk of infecting your own cattle,” Dallas said, subtly pressing for more information.

“Hardly,” Boone scoffed in amusement. “Not when you have someone with all the training to know the safe way to do it.”

“That would be you, I suppose.” But she saw at once that her acid flattery wouldn’t succeed in getting an answer from him this time.

“That’s something you don’t need to know,” he replied in easy unconcern.

“It never hurts to ask.” She turned away and proceeded to calmly transfer the grocery sacks from the cart to the pickup bed.

“So what’s Echohawk doing about hay?” Boone prompted.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Dallas took great satisfaction in throwing the question at his face with cool contempt.

He went from smugness to barely contained fury in a lightning instant, grabbing her arm and viciously digging his fingers into her flesh, finding bone. “Don’t get smart with me, you little bitch.”

Making no effort to struggle, Dallas gave him an icy stare. “Let go of me or I’ll scream loud enough for the whole town to hear.”

“Go ahead,” he jeered. “Nobody’s going to come to your rescue. Now tell me what I want to know.”

His grip tightened, the pain intensifying as he twisted her arm higher, but Dallas refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out.

“I guess I forgot to tell you.” She fought to keep the pain out of her voice. The effort gave it a constricted sound. “You won’t be getting any more information from me.”

Dallas tilted her face to him in stubborn defiance, her attention focused on the fiery black glitter of his eyes. There was no awareness of the hand he swung at her until it slammed against her cheek, snapping her head to the side.

There was an explosion of color behind her eyes and a roaring in her ears. She never heard the squeal of skidding tires.

Blinded with his own rage, Boone took no notice of it either as he seized her chin in a viselike grip. “You’d better wise up

—”

Quint jerked Boone away from her and shoved him into the tailgate. “You’re the one who’d better wise up, Rutledge.” Something savage glittered in his gray eyes. “You touch her again and you’re liable to find yourself in a wheelchair like your father.”

“You think you could do it?” Boone challenged, smiling with an eagerness that matched the avid and ready gleam in his eyes.

Dallas’s voice came between them before a fist could be swung. “The Rutledges infected the cattle with anthrax, Quint. He admitted it.”