She did a double take. “I…I’m not…there’s nothing—”
“It’s okay. No need to explain.”
Sheesh! What did Abe think? That she’d been pining away for Luke for five years?
JUST AS LUKE WAS finishing up the fence, he heard a noise behind him and turned to see Stella Hancock astride a pinto that looked as old as she was.
“Hello, Luke.”
He tipped his Stetson. “Mrs. Hancock.”
“How are you? It’s been a long time.”
Luke drew a breath, then shifted his stance, feet apart, arms crossed. “I’m fine.” He didn’t ask how she was and instead said, “I’m surprised to see you out here. You ride out very often?”
She smiled and the fine wrinkles around her eyes fanned out. For a woman who’d spent most of her life on a ranch, she’d aged gracefully. Most ranch women were well weathered by the time they were forty.
“No, I came because I heard you were fixing the fence and I wanted to know how Abraham is doing?”
When he didn’t answer right away, she added, “I saw your wi—Julianna at the grocery store yesterday. She told me your father had hurt his hand.”
Luke looked away. Jules had met the Hancock woman once when they’d come to visit when they were first married, and she’d been impressed that Stella had run her own ranch after her husband passed away. Luke didn’t think it was a big deal, not when you had her money. She might run the place, but other people did the work.
Coughing, Luke grated out, “He had a couple stitches, that’s all.”
“The last time I saw him in town he didn’t look well.”
Annoyed that he was even talking to this woman about his father, this woman who’d— Luke stared at her, willing her to get the drift and go away. “I’ll take care of whatever is bothering my father.”
He saw her wince a little, but she quickly recovered, then said, “That’s good to hear. He needs someone right now.” Then she pulled on the reins, made a clicking sound and rode away.
What did she mean by that? And how did she know what his father did or didn’t need? As far as Luke knew, she and his father hadn’t had any contact for years. Maybe he was wrong?
Climbing onto Balboa again, he took a minute to survey the land, a vast span of nature at its best. Just east of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, the landscape was made up of rolling hills and piñon pine. Mountains and streams surrounded the valley and as a kid, Luke had always thought he lived in a magical place, a utopian paradise. What did he know?
His mother had loved it here and he remembered riding with her often, to picnic or fish or just to soak up the scenery. The land reminded Luke of her. Beautiful in its simplicity, yet strong enough to withstand the elements.
In the end, cancer had taken his mother at too young an age. But she’d seemed at peace with herself. Unlike him, her faith had held her in good stead. He’d gone the other way, damning whatever forces had taken her from him so soon. And then later, took Michael. And Julianna. If there was a God, he wasn’t doing his job.
No, he didn’t have the kind of faith his mother had. Why should he?
He touched Balboa’s side with his heel, but the stallion wasn’t in any hurry to return. The horse probably didn’t get enough exercise with only Abe to take care of things, so Luke took the long way back to give the stallion a workout and on the way, he stopped at a shallow creek to let Balboa drink. He dismounted. Except for the burbling sounds of crisp clean water over the smooth rocks, it was so quiet he could hear himself breathe.
Balboa suddenly rose up and whinnied. “What? What’s wrong, boy?” The horse snorted and jerked away, spooked. “It’s okay,” Luke soothed, stroking the animal’s neck and scanning the area to see what had scared him. “It’s okay, big guy.”
As he took in the property on the other side of the creek, on the hill he spotted an animal on the ground. Very still. “It’s okay,” Luke reassured his mount and stroked him again. He tethered the horse to a tree and made his way across the creek, rock by rock.
It was a calf. But what was it doing out here alone? Was it sick? A few more steps and he knew the animal was dead. He didn’t want to get too close, but he had to know what had happened. As he moved closer, he saw a pool of blood under the animal’s head. The calf’s throat had been cut.
On instinct, he reached for his weapon and swung around. Only he wasn’t carrying and felt like an idiot. He was standing in the middle of a pasture with a dead calf and he’d reacted like he’d been ambushed by the Mob.
Maybe the captain was right, his nerves were shot and he needed the vacation more than he realized. Even though he’d covered numerous crime scenes, the coppery odor of blood, the scent of death, made him cover his mouth with his hand. He never got used to that. People who thought police were immune to gruesome scenes were either misinformed or stupid.
He rode Balboa back to the ranch at a gallop and twenty minutes later, after unsaddling the stallion and brushing him down, he walked into the kitchen. It was quiet, so he headed down the hall and tapped on Abe’s door. “It’s Luke, Dad. I need to talk to you.” Without waiting for an answer Luke opened the door.
“What’s wrong?” Abe was sitting in his favorite chair. On the table next to him was a photo of Luke’s mother. The room reeked of stale tobacco, even though Julianna had persuaded Abe long ago to quit smoking in the house. She hadn’t wanted Michael exposed to secondhand smoke.
Luke pulled an old oak chair up next to his father’s and turned on the lamp. “Sitting in the dark for a reason?”
“You get the fence fixed?” his father asked.
“Yep. I did. But I came across a dead calf on the way home. Down by the creek.”
“Dead?”
“As a doornail.”
“One of mine?”
Luke nodded. “Had your brand. And…it looked like its throat had been slit.”
Abe drew back, his face turning red as he glowered at Luke.
“Any ideas?” Luke asked.
“Yeah. Get me my gun.”
“No, I mean any ideas who might’ve done this?”
His father shifted in the chair. “Someone who doesn’t like me, I guess.”
Well, that took in half of San Miguel County. “Anyone in particular?”
Abe shook his head. “Could be kids. Teenagers thinking it’s fun to wreck people’s property.”
“This isn’t just property, Dad. That calf was a living animal, part of your stock. It’s more than vandalism. It’s animal cruelty.”
Abe took a moment, then said, “I’ll take care of it.”
Luke crossed his arms. “How?”
When Abe clammed up, Luke bolted to his feet. “I’m going to call the sheriff,” he said, turning to leave.
Before Luke got out the door, Abe said, “I said I’d take care of it. I don’t want you calling anyone.”
His father could be so damned bullheaded sometimes. But maybe it was kids out raising hell. Instead of doping up on meth or heroin as some teens did in L.A., the youngsters here found their fun in other ways.
When he’d lived here, there wasn’t anything like this going on. A little vandalism maybe, but nothing so sick. No, whoever had done