ranch operation impressed the hell out of him. “How far does your property extend?”
“Far enough,” she said. “Slow down. Here’s where we turn.”
He made a right onto an unpaved gravel road. The truck tires bounced over a cattle guard. At the metal fence, Carolyn hopped out to unlatch the gate for the truck to drive through and closed it behind them. Though she was bundled up in a black shearling coat and wearing a flat-brimmed hat, he’d never confuse her with a cowboy. Her gait was purely female.
She climbed back into the truck. Her eyes were bright. “Thanks for bringing me out here, Burke. I needed to smell the land, to hear the cattle lowing. Music to my ears.”
“Another golden oldie?”
“How about ‘Moo-oo-oon River?’”
“Very funny,” he said. “There’s another reason I wanted to get you alone. I need your help, Carolyn.”
“Hold that thought,” she said. “We’ve got another gate to go through.”
As she repeated the opening and closing procedure on the second gate, he reconsidered his plan. He had no right to ask her to get involved with Logan and the SOF. She wasn’t a trained investigator, and he might be leading her into danger.
Instead of getting back into the truck, she motioned for him to drive forward and get out. “Come with me, Burke.”
She strolled through the field toward the herd.
In Wisconsin, he’d seen plenty of cows, but those were friendly black-and-white-spotted Holsteins. These heavy-shouldered Black Angus looked rugged and undomesticated. Beef cattle. Western cattle.
Her cell phone rang, and while she answered, he stroked the solid flank of a steer that turned, glared and ambled toward a water trough. The south pasture wasn’t open range. A barbed wire fence ran from the road to the rugged cliffs of the foothills. He noticed a trail outside the fence.
Carolyn finished her call and joined him. “That was my attorney. He’s not happy about paying a ransom.”
“Neither am I,” he admitted.
“There might not be a choice.”
Her tone was crisp and matter-of-fact, as if she were discussing a business transaction instead of a kidnapping. He wondered how long her strict self-control would last. How much pressure could she take?
As she casually smoothed the hide of another massive steer, she asked, “Why are we here?”
“I wanted to see the field where the sabotage took place so I could figure out why it happened here.”
“Easy access,” she suggested. “It’s close to the road.”
“But still hidden from direct sight of the ranch house.” He pointed to the trail at the edge of the fence. “Where does that lead?”
“They call it the Indian Trail. It connects with a pass through the mountains.” She tipped back the brim of her hat and looked up at him. “You said you needed my help.”
He nodded. “You know who I consider my number one suspect.”
“Sam Logan and the SOF.” The moment she spoke his name her expression darkened. “You could be right. From what Polly said, it sounds like those guys like to cause trouble.”
“I want to get inside the SOF compound and take a look around.”
“Go for it, Burke. Do you need a search warrant?”
“It’s going to take more than a piece of paper. A militia group that’s opposed to government interference isn’t likely to open their gates to a fed. This could end in a standoff.”
“Like Waco,” she said.
“It occurred to me that Logan might be convinced to show off for his old girlfriend. He might even offer to take you on a tour.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You want me to call Logan and ask him if I can come inside?”
“We need to get in there.”
“I can’t do that.” She lowered her head and stalked back toward the truck. Halfway there, she turned. “Logan hates me. What makes you think he’d respond to me?”
“Ego,” he said. “Logan is the head of the SOF. He’ll want to brag, to show you how important he is.”
“Damn it, you could be right.” She
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