“Heard Belle was out visiting this morning.”
Tate stilled, the unfurled length of barbed wire heavy against his thickly gloved hands as his brother’s voice drifted over his back. He loved his brother but Ace had developed a way of nagging him over the years about Belle that was about as subtle as a cold sore at the prom.
Which, Tate figured, was sort of the point.
“She was the one lucky enough to pull duty this morning at six a.m. when I called in the breach.”
“Breach?” Ace pulled on his own pair of thick gloves. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”
“You have a better name?”
“Invasion. Attack. Infection. Take your pick.”
Anger and frustration layered Ace’s words and Tate stilled, giving himself a moment to really look at his brother. The weight of the ranch sat heavily on all of them—as welcome a burden as it was challenging—but Ace’s load carried a bit more freight. As the eldest son, he carried the weightiness of expectation along with all the other requirements of running one of the largest cattle ranches in southwest Texas.
Streaks of gray lined Ace’s temples, visible through the military-short cut of his hair. Lines fanned out from the Reynolds green eyes Tate and his brothers carried like a matched set of luggage, but it was the stiffness in his brother’s shoulders that told the real story. Where Tate and Hoyt carried a linebacker’s bulk, Ace had inherited their mother’s slimmer genes. The man was tall and wiry, his lean frame belying the sheer strength he bore in every bone and sinew.
Anyone who thought Ace Reynolds might be an easy mark quickly learned their mistake. Raw strength and power were the man’s hallmarks, his body as unyielding as his honor and approach to life.
“So what did Belle say?”
“She did some rudimentary tracking. Will be back out in a bit with Julio Bautista to look at the site. After they look at everything, we can repair the fence.” Tate let his gaze drift over the clean-cut hole before refocusing on Ace. “I sent the hands on to other tasks. Told them to come back around noon.”
“Should be enough time.”
“You don’t have to wait with me. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do with your time.”
Ace quirked one eyebrow. “Trying to get rid of me?”
“No. Just figured you had better things to do.”
“I consider this better.”
Waiting for no further invitation, Ace hunched down and tugged at the bale of wire, smoothing over the edge Tate had already cut. “I’ll put this back on the truck.”
They worked in silence for a few minutes. Tate lined up the pieces they’d replace while Ace puttered around the back of the truck he’d driven out from the main house. Although he knew his brother would find out eventually, some small voice had Tate holding back his suspicions.
The light depression in the dirt. Belle’s suggestion of a lone bag of drugs or the suspicion of a cash payoff. Hell.
He didn’t need any help reading between the lines. And if she shared her concerns, they’d have Feds crawling the property before the afternoon was out. He ran a working ranch, not a damn forensics lab.
“You always were a crappy liar. Ready to tell me what’s going on?” Ace slapped the thick gloves against his thigh. “And before you argue with me, omission’s a lie.”
It briefly crossed his mind to argue, but Tate held his tongue. Ace had a right to know. Even as he knew he’d only add to the weight that already rode his brother’s shoulders.
“There’s yellow police tape over there. Belle thinks the shape left in the grass looks like a single bag of drugs.”
“One bag?” The words were barely out before Ace shook his head. “A payoff?”
“That’s what I think.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Come take a look.” Tate led the way to the small marked area. The yellow tape was visible in the grass as they got closer. “I don’t know how she even saw it.”
“Because it’s her job.”
More truth. Raw and unsettling, but the truth all the same. Even more unsettling, Tate knew what it had cost her. What it had cost both of them. Belle took her job seriously, both the work she did and her reputation. Yet she’d still shared her initial impressions, even if she should have saved them for her colleagues.
Ace dropped into a hunch once more, his attention fully focused on the marked area. Tate moved closer, the bright, mid-morning sun seeming to throw a spotlight on the small area. With the additional light, it was easier to see the outline—easier to envision the heavy duffel bag that would have made the mark.
“One of our own.” Ace added a string of curses that matched Tate’s thoughts from the past two hours before their attention was pulled toward the bump of tires about five hundred yards away.
“Belle’s back.” Tate could see Julio Bautista in the passenger seat, his grizzled features a contrast to Belle’s smooth skin and eager visage.
Ace shaded his eyes before his hard stare swung toward Tate. “Looks like she is.”
* * *
Julio Bautista was one of the best trackers in south Texas and had worked as a field expert for the county for what had to be forty years. The man could tell you everything from the shoe size on a partial footprint to the age of animal scat to what types of scrub grass grew in the region. His senses were so refined the man predicted the weather better than any ten TV meteorologists.
While she admired it all, Belle loved him because he was the gentlest of teachers, more than willing to impart his knowledge and understanding of how living beings left their impressions on the earth.
“That the place you marked?” Julio pointed through the windshield to the area where she’d laid yellow police tape earlier that morning, his wizened face scrunched up against the glare of the morning sun.
“That’s the one. Tate Reynolds found the cut fence early this morning and called it in. I almost missed the small depression but saw it at the last minute.”
“Reynolds being cooperative?”
“Of course he is.”
The words spilled out too quickly and Belle winced inwardly as Julio’s solemn gaze shifted from his view through the windshield to her. “You sure?”
“Yes. Oh, he was a bit surprised to see it was me who arrived to take his statement, but he got over it. He understands the force is stretched thin. Understands I’m a member of that force.”
He understands the implications, too, she mused, considering what a possible payoff on his land would mean in regards to his staff.
Julio snorted at the “stretched thin” comment but said nothing, opening his door and hopping out of the SUV. The man’s services had been stretched thin of late, too. And although he worked for the county, he’d spent more than a disproportionate time in Midnight Pass over the past few years. He waved to Tate and Ace Reynolds before crossing to the two men and shaking their hands.
“Bella says you had a problem last night.”
Tate shot her the slightest raised eyebrow at Julio’s affectionate name for her before pointing toward the fence. “Not the first one we’ve had.”
“Likely won’t be the last.” Julio puttered toward the