“What is this, some kind of mutual admiration society?” Karen demanded when she found them both right where she’d left them. Evidently she’d heard the tail end of their conversation, too. “The vet’s on the way. Come on, Grady. I want to get out to that field. Maybe there’s something we can do till he gets here.”
But there was nothing to be done. By the time they reached Hank, the bull was dead. The hand had tried to stanch the flow of blood with his own shirt, but the effort had been futile.
Her expression devastated, Karen fell to her knees beside the animal and ran her hand over his blood-soaked chest. “Damn whoever did this,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t care if it was an accident.”
The last was muttered as if she were clinging desperately to an explanation she could understand.
Grady glanced at Hank, who subtly shook his head, confirming Dooley’s opinion as well. Grady studied the massive beast and saw what the two men had seen, three distinct wounds. One shot might have been an accident, but three? Not a chance.
Grady glanced up at the sound of hooves pounding across the field. Looked as if Dooley had been successful in getting the sheriff out here in record time, right along with the veterinarian, whose services were no longer needed.
Karen rose stiffly from the ground, her complexion pale, bright patches of color in her cheeks and a flash of anger in her eyes. Surprise streaked across her face when she spotted the sheriff.
“Michael, what are you doing here?” she asked as if it weren’t perfectly obvious that someone had alerted him.
“Dooley called me. Said there was a problem.”
“Some fool accidentally shot my new bull,” she said.
“It wasn’t an accident,” Grady said quietly, ignoring the protest forming on Karen’s lips.
“Oh?” Michael Dunn said, stepping close to examine the animal. “Three bullet wounds. You’re right, Blackhawk. That’s no accident.”
He glanced at Karen. “Why don’t you tell me what else has been going on out here? I understand there have been a few other incidents.”
Karen scowled at Dooley, then turned back to the sheriff. “Nothing serious. Some fence was cut.”
“And an unexpected outbreak of a virus in our herd,” Dooley added pointedly. “That was about a year ago, along with another section of fence destroyed. And a fire that burned out most of the pasture.”
“Any idea who’s behind it?” Michael asked, his gaze subtly shifting toward Grady.
“Not me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Grady told him.
“It’s no secret that you want this land.”
“I imagine it’s no secret that I’ve also offered to buy it, fair and square.”
“That’s true,” Karen said.
“But you turned him down, am I right?” the sheriff persisted.
“Yes, but—”
Michael cut Karen’s protest off in midsentence. “Which means he has an excellent motive for pulling a few stunts that might make you change your mind,” he concluded.
“Don’t you dare jump to such a ridiculous conclusion,” Karen snapped. “Grady is not behind this. Besides, he was with me when the bull was shot.”
“He could have paid someone to do that,” the sheriff countered.
“Then why would he tell me to call you?” Dooley demanded, shrugging when Grady scowled at him. “Better to have her getting all worked up over you insisting on getting the sheriff than having you hauled off to jail, because the sheriff’s got his facts wrong.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Grady said, when Karen whirled on him.
“You’re the one who got the sheriff out here?” she demanded.
“Not technically,” Grady said, then conceded, “But it was my idea.”
“And a really brilliant one, don’t you think?” she snapped. “Couldn’t you see that this was exactly what would happen?”
“Actually I thought the sheriff might be a bit more open-minded,” he said with a pointed look at Michael.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, when has a law enforcement officer ever been open-minded? He wants to solve the case as quickly as possible, period.”
Michael winced. “Usually we prefer to nail the right suspect,” he corrected.
“Couldn’t prove that by me,” Karen said. “Not based on the last ten minutes, anyway.”
Michael sighed. “Why don’t we all go back to the house and talk this through rationally?”
“What an absolutely brilliant plan,” Karen said sarcastically.
Grady grinned at her. “Darlin’, I think you’ve won. You might want to be a bit more gracious about it.”
She scowled at him. “I’m not feeling especially gracious at the moment. In fact, I’m mad enough to knock a few heads together.”
“Any heads in particular?”
“Besides yours?” she inquired sweetly. “And Dooley’s and Michael’s?”
“I’d say that about covers it,” Grady said, grinning at her.
“This is not the least bit amusing, Grady Blackhawk.”
His expression sobered at once. “The situation? No, not at all. But you? You are something else.”
Her frown deepened. “Don’t even go there. One word about how cute I am when I’m angry, and you’re going to be as dead as that poor old bull.”
Dooley guffawed, then covered his mouth and looked away.
Karen whirled on him. “I’d watch it, if I were you. You’re next on my list.”
“Me? What did I do?” Dooley asked, looking hurt.
“You got the sheriff out here.”
“Somebody had to,” he said flatly. “Grady was right. It was time.”
Grady touched her cheek. “You know it was,” he said quietly.
She heaved a heartfelt sigh, then nodded. “Maybe so, but I don’t have to like it.”
“No, darlin’,” he agreed sympathetically. “You definitely don’t have to like it.”
After the morning she’d had, she was pretty much entitled to hate the world.
* * *
Karen couldn’t seem to hold on to anything. She dropped the coffee mugs on the floor, shattering one of them. When Grady brushed aside her attempts to clean it up and did it himself, she tried to get the coffee grinds into the coffeemaker, only to spill most of them on the counter.
Tears stung her eyes when Grady put his hand over hers.
“Sit down,” he said. “I’ll make the coffee. You need to get some food into you. It’s way past lunchtime.”
“I can’t eat. I have to do something,” she said, her
