He reined in his horse facing her. “There looks to have been three riders moving a herd to the west.” He pointed southwest. “What’s that way?”
She rubbed her sleeve across her eyes. “Nothing I’m familiar with.”
“Here’s my suggestion. All y’all go on home and wait while I ride for the sheriff. If he follows the trail and inspects the cattle before the brands are changed, he’ll have the evidence he needs.”
“If you think that’s best but I think I should come with you.”
He shook his head and raised a hand to wave away her idea. “Miz Dunn, this here’s your ranch and you’re the boss and I’ll do what you say. But if you’re asking my opinion, reckon you oughta go home and take your youngun’s. They’ll need feedin’ and lookin’ after. Dogs would make too much noise with us.”
Bret held up a hand palm out. “He’s right, Charlotte. I’ll go with Moose. I’d like to know what the sheriff says. We’ll be in touch as soon as we learn anything new.”
Charlotte was conflicted but her children’s needs won. She reached around to open her saddlebags and pulled out the sandwiches meant for their lunch.
“Take the food we packed with you and go get the sheriff. I’ll take the children home. Please be careful. Remember these people are killers.”
“Another reason to keep yourself and the children out of harm’s way. To be safe, keep your gun handy.” Bret waved as he followed Moose toward town.
Chapter Fourteen
Bret had a lot on his mind in addition to rustlers. When he took stock, Moose had been right about him being a durn fool. Recalling the attitude he’d had with his sister made him ashamed. What a heartless cad he’d been regardless of whether the curse was true or not. He had plenty of money and was thinking maybe he should do something worthwhile with it instead of frittering it away.
Here was Charlotte working hard to keep a ranch she was most certainly going to lose. She was the most intelligent and capable woman he’d ever known. Fighting a wealthy and devious man was more than she could manage with only three children to help. Thank goodness Moose had arrived.
He’d seen men lose everything gambling but had no sympathy for them. Never had he been around hard working people who could lose everything through no fault of their own. Until now, that is. Sure made a fellow think.
They reached Palo Pinto and Moose called, “Sheriff’s office is in the jail.”
Bret followed his friend to a multi-story building made of quarried stone blocks. Inside, they found the sheriff at his desk in his small office.
Sheriff Haney stood when they entered. “Don’t tell me there’s more trouble at the Dunn place.”
Moose took off his hat and looked at Bret.
Bret said, “Sorry to say the rest of the herd’s been rustled. Moose found where three riders pushed them southwest from the river.”
Scowling, the sheriff went to the foot of the stairs and looked up. “Mabel, have to go chase rustled cattle.” He strode to the cells. “Rick, need you to come with me.”
A tall, gangly young man strode out. He looked to be in his early twenties. “Yes, sir. I’ll get our horses.” He rushed toward the livery stable.
Scowling, the sheriff gestured to the door. “We might as well walk that way. Guess we’ll get done out of lunch.”
“Mrs. Dunn’s practical and plans ahead. She sent sandwiches. You have a canteen?”
“Always. Bet her sandwiches are plenty filling so I’m happy to hear she sent them. Did you take time to stop off at the ranch house?”
Bret explained about all of them setting out.
Moose looked angry. “I’d been working around the place since she hired me, making a few repairs. This was the first time I rode out to see the herd, only it wasn’t there.”
By the time they’d walked to the livery, he and Moose leading their horses, the deputy was leading two mounts out to the street.
As the four of them started off, Bret saw the bank. He’d bet Winfield would be in there later today pressing for the note on Charlotte’s ranch and letting slip the cattle were gone. With any luck, they’d find the polecat with the rustled herd.
Bret doubted Winfield would be bold enough to let that happen. In all probability they might find whoever had stolen the cattle but Winfield would be somewhere with an alibi. Could be the rustlers would tell who hired them, though.
They rode straight to the place where the cattle had last been seen. The sheriff and his deputy and Moose examined the tracks. Except for what he’d read in the Missouri Kid stories, Bret didn’t know anything about tracking. He stayed in the saddle and listened in hope of learning something.
The other three men agreed on which direction the cattle had gone.
The sheriff pointed at the ground. “You see that this set of horseshoes is unusual? I reckon Rucker in town made that set. He makes that little mark.”
His deputy squatted for a closer look. “Yep, that’s Rucker’s mark all right. He always stamps in that R. He shoes a lot of horses, though, so that doesn’t help as much as we’d like.”
Moose pointed at another spot. “This one has a little mark on two of the shoes. Looks like it could be a star or an X.”
The sheriff and his deputy checked.
Sheriff Haney pushed his hat up an inch. “I reckon that’s the X used by Xavier Diaz over at Santo. What do you think, Rick?”
“I’d say so. Let’s look closer at the third set of prints.”
Bret followed them. “I didn’t know there was a difference in horseshoes.”
All three men gave him a dumbfounded glance before they went
