make his nose itch.
“Will’s got me looking into Special Agent-in-Charge Scott Urlacher’s caseload now.”
“Under the radar, of course.”
“Of course. So how are you?”
“Bored. Ready to get out of here.”
“Bored, huh?” Estrella said. “I can’t believe you’re still slacking.”
“Now that I know they make you lie in bed this long, I’m gonna make it a point never to get shot again.”
“Good plan. Did you think that up all by yourself?”
“I did.”
“Head hurt much?”
“Don’t worry about it. They’ve got me on pain meds.”
Estrella laughed.
“Has Will given you any clue what he’s wanting now?” Shel asked.
“Will thinks Urlacher wants Victor Gant’s heroin supplier.”
“It’s not somebody local?”
“Judging from the purity of the drugs Victor Gant’s people have been caught handling, I’d say it’s not local.”
“Then where?”
“Probably out of the country. Heroin’s being traded in Central America, then getting brought into the United States through those supply channels. Usually up Interstate 35.”
“But along the way, it gets stepped on,” Shel said.
“Usually pretty hard,” Estrella agreed. “So everybody along the way can take their cut. The stuff the Purple Royals are running is almost pure.”
“They have a direct route.”
“I think so.”
“And that’s why the FBI is so hot and heavy after the source.”
“It would be a nice bust,” Estrella said. “But you didn’t call to talk about that. You’re just covering ground that you know Will has already covered.”
Shel didn’t say anything.
“Why did you really call?” Estrella asked.
“I’m getting the feeling you know me too well,” Shel said.
“I do. So fess up.”
Shel hesitated. “This is about my daddy, Estrella.”
Estrella waited and didn’t say anything. He knew she was aware that he didn’t talk about his father much.
“I got a phone call from him in the middle of the night,” Shel said. “He was drunk. Or had been drinking. Not enough to get totally skunk-faced, but drunker than I’ve ever heard him.”
“All right.”
Shel hesitated, knowing that once he pressed forward there would be no going back. “You know I don’t have a good relationship with my daddy.”
“Yes.”
“For him to call out of the blue like that?” Shel shook his head. “Something’s going on.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Victor Gant was a career Army man. He pulled tours in Vietnam. So did my daddy.”
“You think Victor Gant served with your father?”
“That’s the only way Daddy could have gotten to know someone like Victor Gant. Gant’s from North Carolina. Daddy grew up in west Texas. Except for the Army, Daddy’s never been out of the state. Never off the ranch much either.”
“I can pull records from the United States Army,” Estrella said. “But this is something that’s going to take a while. The military is still archiving some of that information.”
“It’s a needle in a haystack,” Shel agreed. “I knew that before I decided to ask you to take a look.”
“I’m glad you appreciate the effort.”
Shel hesitated a moment, then knew he had no choice if he wanted to keep his privacy. He cleared his throat. “One other thing.”
“Sure.”
“While you’re poking around in those files, I’d appreciate it if you kept this below the radar.” Shel hated asking her to do that. It was almost like he was saying he didn’t trust Will or the others.
“I can do that,” Estrella said.
“It’s just that it might not be anything. And if it isn’t-if it’s just that Daddy was around something Victor Gant did in the military and knows him from that-it’s not going to help Will track the heroin.”
“I agree,” Estrella said. “Personal business is personal business.”
“Thanks, Estrella. How’s Nicky?”
“Off sailing with Joe and Celia.”
“Well,” Shel said, gazing out the window, “that sure beats lying in this bed.” And wondering how Daddy knows a man like Victor Gant.
›› Rafter M Ranch
›› Outside Fort Davis, Texas
›› 1236 Hours (Central Time Zone)
“Do you have a headache, Senor Tyrel?”
Even though he was wearing his hat to shade his eyes against the bright noonday sun, Tyrel squinted to look at Ramon.
The youngster sat astride a paint mare. Red west Texas dust covered him like powder that had been sifted on. His black hair gleamed in the bright sunlight.
“I’m fine,” Tyrel said sourly as he continued to lean on the corral. But he wasn’t. He had a headache that felt like it was going to suck the top of his skull in and pour it out through his ears. It had been years since he’d had one like that.
The newborn colt frolicked in the sunlight. Although he wasn’t anywhere near coordinated enough yet, the colt tried to kick his heels as he ran around his mama.
“That little horse is going to be a dickens,” Ramon said. He grinned at the colt’s antics.
Despite the way he felt, Tyrel grinned a little at that. The word was his and he knew it. Hearing Ramon say it just sounded funny.
“You don’t look so good.” Ramon dismounted and tied the reins to the corral.
“I feel better’n I look,” Tyrel growled. “I can still set a horse longer than there are hours in the day.”
Ramon shrugged. “I didn’t say you couldn’t. I was just wondering if you should get in out of the sun.”
Irritation flared inside Tyrel. He reined it in because he didn’t want to visit any of it on the boy.
“I suddenly look old to you, Ramon?” he asked.
“No, senor. You looked this old yesterday too.” The answer was earnest and innocent of rancor.
“You know,” Tyrel said, “now I’m kinda wishing I hadn’t asked that question.”
“Why?” Ramon looked confused.
“Never mind, amigo. The fences all look good?”
“Si.” Ramon reached into his shirt pocket. “There are a few places we need to mend soon. I made notes.” He passed over the small notebook Tyrel always sent him with.
Tyrel glanced through the notes, then pocketed the notebook. “You eat yet?”
“I had a burrito I took with me. I’m all right.”
“You’re young, amigo. You can eat again. Come on inside the house. I got a pot of beans on.”
Ramon looked troubled. “Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I hadn’t been.” Tyrel threw the dregs of the coffee into the corral and spooked the little colt into jumping and nearly getting tangled up in his spindly legs.
Even with the hangover plaguing him, the colt’s surprise pleased Tyrel. He laughed a little. That kind of
