Tuff could be a pain in the ass,” Bud Longbrake said over a snifter of afterdinner brandy in his study, “but no one deserves to die like that.”
Cam murmured his agreement and sipped his own drink. Joe had passed on the brandy and poured bourbon into his glass.
All three men were now in the book-lined study.
“Most employees can never be counted on,” Bud said. “Loyalty lasts as long as the next paycheck. They all feel like they’re owed a damned living, like they’re entitled to it. That’s why I like hiring guys like Roberto, who know they’re getting a hell of a fair shake. But Tuff worked here at least five times over the years. Twice I fired his ass, but the other three times he quit to do something else. He was a surveyor’s assistant for a while, then a cell phone customer cervice rep. Imagine that—a cowboy service rep.
“Then after being a fake mountain man in Jackson Hole for a while, old Tuff was back in this very office with his hat in his hand, begging for his old job back. Now he’s gone.”
Joe had looked up sharply as Bud talked; something had tripped a switch. “Bud, did you say Tuff worked with a surveyor?”
“Yup. Why?”
“I’m not sure,” Joe shrugged. “It’s just interesting.”
Joe noticed that Cam Logue was looking him over closely, apparently trying to figure something out. He met Cam’s eyes, and Cam looked away. “Tuff did lots of things,” Bud said, laughing. “Did I tell you the story he told me about trying to lift some woman at a chuck-wagon dinner theater for tourists? When he was playing a mountain man?”
While Joe listened, he refreshed the ice in his glass from a bucket on Bud’s desk. The curtains on the window were open, and it was dark outside. It was getting late. He could use this as a reason to move Marybeth on, he thought. There was school tomorrow, after all.
Outside, he could see his daughters and Jessica Logue in the dim cast of the yard light.
“Something’s definitely weird with the horses,” Sheridan said to Lucy and Jessica, interrupting their debate over who was the cutest boy in the sixth grade.
It was getting too dark to see individual horses in the corral but the herd was a dark, writhing mass. Occasionally, a horse would break loose like the dun had earlier, charge and stop abruptly, and she could see its shape against the opposite rails. But, like the dun that had bluff-charged them, the stray would inevitably return to the herd. The footfalls of the horses were distinct, and muffled in the dirt, as was the sound of them eating.
“Maybe it’s the Mutilator,” Jessica said.
“Stop it,” Lucy said sharply. “I’m not kidding.” “I agree,” Sheridan said. “Knock it off.”
“I’m sorry,” Jessica said in a near whisper.
Then, from the corner of the corral, within the dark herd, a horse screamed.
Inside the house, Marybeth jumped. “What was that?”
“Just the horses,” Missy said, wearing her hostess smile and filling coffee cups on a silver tray. “Bud brought them down to the corral.”
“Mom,” Marybeth asked, “why did he bring them down?” The tone in her voice caused Missy to frown.
“You know,” she said, “since Tuff was killed, Bud’s been a little nervous about the stock.”
Marybeth cursed. “The girls are out there.”
Marie covered her mouth with her hand.
Marybeth was halfway to the front door when Joe suddenly strode out of the study and over to her. Cam appeared at the study door with a drink in his hand, watching Joe with concern.
“Did you hear that?” Marybeth asked him.
“I did,” he said.
he deep bass drumming sound of horses’ hooves filled the night and reverberated through the ground itself as Joe ran from the porch toward the ranch yard and called aloud. “Sheridan! Lucy! Jessica!”
Grabbing a flashlight from the glove compartment of their van as he passed, Joe thumbed the switch. No light. The batteries were dead, damn it. He thumped the flashlight against his thigh and a weak light beamed. He hoped the dying batteries held.
Looking up toward the corral, he could see a kind of fluttering across the ground that made his heart jump. The fluttering, though, turned out to be his daughters and Jessica Logue who were running across the ranch yard toward him from the corral with coats, hair, and dresses flying.
Thank you, God, he whispered to himself as they neared. “Dad! Dad!”
They met him at the same instant that the outside porch lights came on and the front door opened. He could hear a rush of footsteps behind him as Sheridan and Lucy flew into him, hugging him tight. Jessica veered toward the house and buried her face in her mother’s waist.
“Something happened with the horses while we were out there,” Sheridan said, her words rushing out. “They just went crazy and started screaming.”
“It’s okay,” Joe said, rubbing their backs. “You two seem all right.”
“Dad, I’m scared,” Lucy said.
Marybeth came down from the porch and both girls released Joe and went to her. Joe looked up to see Bud Longbrake filling the door, a .30-.30
