High-Caliber Cowboy

Hannah shook her head. “They weren’t even here at the same time.” She shrugged. “Probably just a coincidence.”

He rubbed his throbbing temples. Right now, there was only one woman he cared about. “Do you remember what Anna Austin was driving?”

“A black Ford pickup with Montana plates,” Hannah said.

Why would the woman from last night have rented a pickup truck? She’d looked like a fancy-sedan kind of woman.

He thanked Hannah and left before her boss got back. The more he thought about the black pickup, the more sense it made. If you wanted to blend in in this part of the country, a pickup would be the way to do it. Especially if your mission was vandalizing coalbed methane wells on the VanHorn Ranch. A pickup wouldn’t have raised suspicion like a car, if seen on the ranch.

The fact that she’d probably left the motel in the wee hours without checking out convinced him that she knew he would be looking for her. In fact, she probably figured all of the VanHorn ranch hands and the sheriff’s department were searching for her, as well. She wouldn’t know that he couldn’t go to Mason VanHorn.

So she would try to find some place to hide. In this part of the country, that could be anywhere. Or she’d give up and leave.

His instincts told him she wouldn’t give up. Not her.

He had the feeling that she hadn’t gotten what she’d broken into the ranch house for last night. The safe had been empty by the time he’d come around. Completely empty. What thief took everything in the safe? A thief in a hurry. Or one who found nothing but bundles of money.

Except she hadn’t had any kind of a bag with her. He would have seen it as skintight as that Lycra outfit had been. She hadn’t planned on taking much with her.

He wondered what exactly she’d been looking for, then. Or if she was even a reporter. He didn’t know any reporters who committed vandalism and breaking and entering for a story.

What he tried not to think about was how she’d hoodwinked him. She’d seemed so scared, so vulnerable, so caught. And all the time she’d just been playing him until she could get her hands on that lamp to throw at him.

She’d played him for a fool.

He drove back to Antelope Flats, tired, head aching, thinking only of a hot bath. He knew her name and what she was driving. He’d see her again. He was sure of it. Tonight.

One of the VanHorn Ranch pickups was just pulling out of the Longhorn Café. The ranch hand flagged him down.

“Red asked me to find you. He wants you to stop by the ranch to talk about surveillance tonight.”

“Sure. Did something happen?” he asked, worried that the break-in had been discovered.

“Not that I know of. I think Red just wants to catch that damned vandal before the boss gets back.”