'For?' Sara shot back.
'Your reaction. Is somebody nipping at your heels?'
'I don't know,' Sara answered flatly, and turned her gaze to Kerney.
'Well? Will you do it?'
'It may amount to nothing more than a wild goose chase,' Kerney replied.
'Yes or no?' Sara demanded.
'Yes.'
'Good.' She gathered up the paintings from Andy's desk.
'When can you be ready?'
'At first light.'
'Where do we meet?'
'Engle,' Kerney replied. 'Be there at four in the morning. Bring the portfolio with you, wear your riding gear, and pack a change of clothes.' She gave him a curt nod and turned back to Andy.
'Can I get a ride home from one of your deputies?'
'Absolutely.' He walked to his desk, made a short telephone call, and hung up. 'It will be just a few minutes.'
'Thanks. I'd like Erma Fergurson to have some protection for the next few days. Can that be arranged?'
'I'll put somebody on it.'
'That about covers it for now,' Sara said, extending her hand to Andy. 'Thanks again, Andy.'
Andy covered her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
'Anytime, Captain.' After Sara left, Andy and Kerney sat silently. Kerney seemed lost in thought.
'It looks like you get to go back to your old stomping grounds,' Andy finally said.
'I never thought I would.' Kerney shook his head. Andy skipped over it.
'Do you think Sara is holding something back?'
'She's got a fire lit under her,' Kerney commented.
'That's for sure.'
'Do you trust her?'
'I do.'
'So do I,' Andy agreed with a grin.
'She's a piece of work, isn't she?' Kerney nodded and grinned back.
'We need to get you outfitted,' Andy remarked, walking to the office door.
'How long do you plan to be gone?'
'Twenty-four hours. We'll leave from the Rocking J Ranch on the Jomada. Dale Jennings's place. Do you know it?'
'Tell me how to get there and I'll be waiting when you get back.' He let Kerney pass in front of him and closed the door.
'You could both get your asses in a sling. You know that, don't you?'
'That's a reassuring thought,' Kerney replied. *** Sara rang the bell to the communications center security door. It was after normal working hours, and the headquarters staff was gone for the day. She pushed hard on the buzzer until the door opened.
'PFC Tony?' she asked, her open badge case at eye level for the soldier to see.
'Yes, ma'am.'
'Do you know who I am?'
'Yes, ma'am.'
'Did you speak to Captain Meehan last night?' Sara had the facts at hand: the surveillance team shadowing Kerney had duly noted the event.
'I've been ordered not to answer any questions,' Tony said haltingly.
Sara snapped at the young soldier. 'If you don't tell me what I want to know, I'll make sure every damn day you spend in the Army is very unpleasant. Do you understand that, soldier?'
'Yes, ma'am.' Tony looked very unhappy.
'Well?' Sara demanded. Tony licked his lips.
'I spoke to the captain.'
'Did you tell him that Sammy Yazzi owned a camera?' Sara demanded. Tony nodded.
'Yes, ma'am.'
'Did you mention the jeep trip you took with Sammy to Big Mesa?'
'No, ma'am. He didn't ask me about that. Am I in trouble. Captain?'
Sara's smile was tight-lipped. 'Not if you cooperate. What else did you tell him?'
'He asked me if I knew where Sammy stayed when he was in Las Cruces.'
'And?'
'I told him I didn't know, but that his sergeant had a phone number for how to reach him.'
'Why would Sergeant Steiner have a number for Sammy in Las Cruces?'
'Sammy told me that Steiner chewed him out once when he got back from town. Steiner needed him at the test site and couldn't find him. He made Sammy give him a phone number where he could be reached in case it happened again.'
'What else did you tell Captain Meehan?'
'That's it, ma'am.'
'Tell no one about this conversation. No one. Understood?'
'Yes, Captain.' Sara turned on her heel and walked down the hall, unwilling to let Tony see how angry she felt. In her office, with the phone book open to the listing for Erma Pergurson, she called Sergeant Steiner. He told her Captain Meehan had called and asked for the number. He read it off to her. It matched the number in the book. She waited until Steiner hung up and slammed the phone into the cradle.
Damn Meehan! she thought. If she could ever get him on a level playing field, she would clean his clock. *** A thin ribbon of light flowed over the crest of the mountains, as the night sky began fading into lighter grays. Thick clouds moved rapidly into the mountains, blotting out the color on the ridgeline. Ahead, through the windshield of Kerney's truck, Sara could see the flicker of house lights in the foothills, like a beacon with no reference point. It was the first indication of human habitation in twenty miles. For a very long stretch along the dirt road, the truck headlights revealed nothing but desert; not even fences or utility poles. Kerney had Bach's Brandenburg Concertos playing softly on the cassette deck, a perfect choice against the tapestry of the last gloom of night. They climbed out of the desert, the house lights above them appearing and vanishing as the road twisted gently, following the contours up the slope of a small valley pinched between outcroppings of the San Andres Mountains. The valley narrowed to a canyon that gave way to mountain meadows of grass and thickets of cedar trees.
A band of clouds passed over the mountains as they reached the ranch gate. A weathered board nailed to a fence post by the gate displayed the brand for the Rocking J Ranch. Beyond the gate, in a grove of pine trees, warm light poured from the windows of the ranch house. It was the centerpiece of the surrounding buildings, still hard for Sara to discern in the early light.
Kerney got out and opened the gate. Without giving it a thought, Sara slid behind the wheel, drove through the gate, and stopped. Kerney swung the gate closed, pointed to the corral, and started walking. She drove to the corral and waited for him to catch up. He walked past the truck and leaned on the top rail of the corral, eyeing the four horses inside. Dale had saddled a bay and cinched a pack frame to a slightly sway-back roan. The bay was perfect for Kerney; it had high shoulders, big hips, and a nicely proportioned frame. The horse would move smoothly, with good speed if needed. That left the gelding and the mare for Sara to choose from, Kerney thought. He wondered which one she would select. From the truck, Sara studied the horses carefully.
A mare like that would do nicely when she was ninety years old and needed to ride in a surrey. It had a potbelly and weak hindquarters. The gelding's deep chest, flat back, and thick haunch showed the promise of endurance and quickness. The first moment of true daylight touched the crowns of the pine trees as the sun crested the mountains. The foreman's quarters, within easy hailing distance of the main house, was a small cabin with a narrow porch running the length of the building. A hay shed sat conveniently next to the horse barn and corral. The windmill by the water tank grabbed Sara's attention. Old, squatty, and made of wood, with a small platform beneath the blades, it creaked and hummed in the slight breeze. She loved the sound of it.
