Jockeys and Jewels Page 14

  The “helluva dog” made Kurt uncomfortable. Blue sat obediently, but his strange eyes glowed as he watched Kurt tug off his boots.

  “Want me to let him out?” Kurt asked.

  “Sure,” Adam called, already halfway down the hall. “Julie might want help with Dusty.”

  Kurt pushed the door open. The dog paused then brushed by with an air of disdain as though a stranger was beneath his notice. “You’re welcome,” Kurt said.

  Blue’s head swung. Kurt wasn't sure if it was the words or the amusement in his voice, but the dog definitely looked annoyed. He yanked the screen door shut leaving Blue on the other side. Their eyes locked as they measured each other through the mesh.

  “I’m on the veranda,” Adam called.

  Kurt turned, forgot the dog, and followed Adam’s voice and the welcome smell of hickory coffee.

  Adam passed him a warm mug. They relaxed in wooden chairs—surprisingly comfortable despite their hardness. The veranda gave a sweeping view of the tidy pastures, the hayfield and the darker dirt oval. Something moved, and Julie came into view on the ridge, leading a white-faced sorrel.

  Kurt took a hasty gulp of coffee then set his mug on the table. “I’ll help her load.”

  “It’s okay. She has plenty of help.” Adam pointed at Blue trotting down the driveway and marking every fencepost. The dog shoved his head in the air then bolted, a streak of gray against the bleached gravel. Nose down, he followed Julie's trail.

  The dog’s boisterous greeting almost knocked her down; the horse she led pivoted, pinning his ears at the dog’s raw enthusiasm.

  Adam chuckled. “Dusty is ornery when he knows he’s going to work, but Blue will change his mind pretty quick.”

  It was obvious the sorrel wasn't looking forward to leaving his comfortable pasture, and when Julie tried to lead him onto the trailer, he planted his feet. Her words weren’t clear, but her hand signal was.

  Blue sprang forward, nipped Dusty on a hind fetlock and easily avoided the retaliatory kick. The horse humped his hindquarters, but the dog slid in again, punishing the resistance with another nip.

  Dusty lowered his head, trotted up the ramp and joined Cisco in the trailer.

  “Not bad.” Kurt smiled with approval. “We could use that dog behind the starting gate.”

  “Yeah,” Adam said, “he’s handy to have around. Dusty hates the trailer but walks right on when he’s heading home. Usually Blue goes with Julie so there’s never any trouble loading.”

  Kurt’s smile faded. Shit. Blue was certain to be protective, and just the thought of the dog watching them with those odd blue eyes made him uneasy.

  “But today I need Blue’s help moving cattle,” Adam added.

  “Of course.” Kurt quickly set down his mug and rose, afraid he’d end up with a chaperone if he lingered any longer.

  “Saddlebags are on the table,” Adam said. “Julie asked me to throw some food together.”

  Kurt slung the nylon bags over his shoulder and gave Adam an appreciative ‘thanks.’ Julie’s father was a good example of western hospitality, and Kurt hoped Julie would be just as obliging.

  He joined her by the trailer and checked the ramp, but she’d already bolted it in place. Blue sat by the back wheels, tongue lolling, wearing the eager expression of a dog anticipating a road trip.

  “Handy dog,” Kurt said. “Too bad your dad needs him today.”

  “Yes, but he’s worth three riders to Dad.” She scratched Blue behind his ears. “You stay here, fellow. You’ll have more fun working cattle.”

  The dog whined and pressed against her legs, but his steady gaze followed Kurt, watching as he tossed the saddlebags in the back and opened the door for Julie.

  She gave Blue a final pat and climbed in the cab, and he closed the door with a sense of relief. Girl, horses, food—they were ready. He carefully eased the truck and trailer from the yard, checking for the dog in the side mirror. Blue sat, still as a statue, until he was swallowed by their dust.

  Kurt glanced at Julie. “I was sure he’d follow. Must feel good to have devotion like that.”

  “Of course it feels good.” She settled against the seat and gave him such a beautiful smile it sucked his breath away. Now that he’d tasted her mouth, he wanted more.

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I can make you feel good too,” he said. He ran his thumb over her palm, gently rubbing the calluses left from years of riding.

  “Probably you could,” she said lightly, “but I don’t imagine you heel quite so well.”

  He didn’t intend to be deflected with humor and let his gaze roam her body, making no attempt to hide his appreciation. She pulled her hand away, a blush coloring her face, reaching all the way to the top of those elegant cheekbones.

  “Best we don’t go too fast,” she said. “Dad says you’re interested in buying some land.” She pointed out the side window, clearly determined to change the subject. “Be nice to have you as a neighbor. Especially if you have a starting gate. I'd love a neighbor with a starting gate.”

  “I have three,” he said.

  It wasn’t a joke but she rolled her eyes and relaxed, and that prim tone disappeared. He liked listening to her voice, didn’t even have to pretend as she entertained him with tall tales about wacky neighbors. He nodded with a buyer's interest as she pointed out acreages where the water supply was poor and absorbed her comments about soil and rainfall.

  But his conscience wouldn’t shut up.

  She believed he was moving here, had devoted a rare day off to show him around. She was a smart guide too, quick to pick up on the type of land that interested him—a mix of flat and rolling land. Of course that was a sham but if he was moving here, that’s what he’d want.

  He averted his head, needing a second to maintain his façade. Connor would have laughed, told him to suck it up, and Kurt shoved away his regret. Work was work. You did what you had to do.

  They rattled over a string of Texas gates. “Sure a lot of cattle guards,” he said, eyeing the bouncing trailer in his mirror and watching Cisco’s ears flick in displeasure.

  “We need the gates,” she said. “Cattle are summered on crown land. Moved up in the spring and brought down in the fall.” She pointed to their left. “Park there. It’s a rough trail but it’s isolated, and we'll see more wildlife.”

  He eased onto the gravel lot. There were no other vehicles, and there was plenty of room to maneuver. He backed the horses off and tied them to the trailer, and they quickly saddled.

  “Do you have everything from the truck?” he asked as he grabbed a blanket and attached it to his saddle.

  “Yes, but I'm glad you brought a slicker. The weather’s always unsettled here. The only consistent is the mist hanging over that mountain.”

  It’s good to be prepared, he thought, filled with a sense of anticipation. It had been years since he’d taken a girl and blanket into the woods, and he was as eager as a teenager. He didn’t know how this was going to go, but he definitely wanted to enjoy her mouth again. He knotted his latigo, yanked it tight, then followed with Cisco. Reached Julie before she placed her boot in the stirrup.

  He slid his hand along her back and tugged her to him. “We’re alone now,” he said softly.

  She smiled then rose on her tiptoes. Her mouth was sweet and fresh, but he coaxed her to open and soon she clutched at his shoulders. He deepened his kiss, molding her closer until her breasts flattened against his chest. Goddammit, she felt good, smelled good, and the way her tantalizing body pressed against him made his heartbeat rev. He couldn’t get enough.

  Honk! Gravel crunched as a truck wheeled past, and a man’s voice yelled ribald encouragement.

  “Christ. Sorry, honey.” He lifted his head, shocked at his lack of control. He pulled his eyes off her mouth and stepped back, trying to hide his ragged breathing but he could have stood in the parking lot for another hour, holding Cisco with one hand, Julie in the other. “Where are we going anyway?
” he asked, his voice husky.

  “Just to the hunting campsite.” She swung gracefully into the saddle, looking much cooler than he felt. “It’s a nice ride. We can eat there, and there’s grass for the horses.”

  “Good. Let’s go,” he said gruffly as he mounted Cisco. She was throwing him off stride, and he needed to get his mind on the job. “While we’re riding, you can fill me in on Country Girl. I don’t know much about her, and Otto isn’t going to tell me anything.”

  He followed her up the path, listening as she talked about how Otto never bought bedding, how he often ran out of grain and about the time he’d tried blinkers.

  “Country Girl really didn’t like them,” Julie said. “She almost flipped twice. Even Otto admitted it wasn’t a good idea.”

  He squeezed Cisco's sides and jogged alongside Dusty. Julie spoke faster now, her face indignant as she relayed how Otto didn’t seem to have any real training plan and that he often left it up to the rider. Kurt banged his knee against a tree trunk. He winced but stayed beside her on the narrow path.

  “What about the owner?” he asked, studying her expression. “There must be someone else involved with the horse…someone that makes decisions.”

  She tugged at her lower lip which didn’t help his concentration. “No,” she said. “There’s nobody else. Just Otto.”

  So she didn’t know the man with the accent. Not good. He ducked under a low-lying branch, considering a different approach. “I heard that horse owner who was killed knew Otto.”

  “He wasn’t an owner.” Her face shadowed. “Not even a race fan. He was just backside looking around.”

  “Otto’s friend? He must have been some prize.” Kurt forced a snicker, feeling an ache in his chest. Forgive me, buddy, he thought. “Was he an asshole like Otto?”

  “Oh, no. He wasn’t like that. And he wasn’t Otto’s friend either. He was just interested in the mare.”

  “Oh?” That was new information. The police report merely said Connor had been looking for Otto. There had been no mention of his interest in the mare. “What did he like about the horse? Had he seen her before?”

  Kurt’s hands tightened around the reins as he studied Julie’s face. If she knew why Connor had followed Otto to the track, it could be a major breakthrough—the thread that might unravel the entire mystery.

  But she only shrugged. “Maybe he saw the mare racing at another track.”

  “Or maybe he met Otto and the horse before?” Kurt squeezed Cisco again, moving his horse a few feet ahead of Dusty so he had a better view of Julie’s face.

  She looked puzzled, her nose wrinkled in thought. “I don’t think so. Otto had already removed the mare’s shoes and left to unhook his trailer. The guy didn’t even know which horse belonged to Otto. He just asked if Otto had taken off the shoes.”

  “And had Otto?” Kurt heard the sharpness in his voice, knew it was too strong. Ease up, man, he chided, but he sensed she knew something. Was exceedingly grateful for this opportunity to get her alone and probe.

  She gave him a curious look but nodded. “Yes. Otto removed the back shoes as soon as he arrived. He went in the stall with tongs and a clinch cutter. I couldn’t see in, but there was quite a racket. That mare was feisty from the moment she arrived.”

  “What time of night was that?”

  “Just after ten. I had a ride in the last race and had to meet with the stewards. I dropped by, hoping to catch Sandra. Otto was surprised there was anyone else in the barn and upset that a shoe was falling off.”

  A chill attached to the back of Kurt’s neck. “Probably best not to surprise that man, Julie,” he said, trying to sound casual but, Christ, she could have been hurt. It was different for him. For Connor. They’d known the risks. Sometimes they’d been in such deep cover, it had been difficult to remember what side of the law they were on.

  The horses filed under a low-lying branch, and he waited a minute before continuing. “So,” he said, “Otto hauled in late with a horse from the States, removed her hind shoes and left. And all this guy wanted was to find Otto? Did he say anything else?”

  She twisted in the saddle, and her eyes looked sad. “I already told the police everything. They talked to Otto. He didn’t know the guy. I wanted to help, but I didn’t talk to that poor man more than a few minutes.” Her voice faltered. “I got the feeling he wasn't used to horses. He didn't seem comfortable in the barn.”

  “Yeah,” Kurt muttered but his throat constricted. Connor hadn't really minded animals, but he did hate the smells. Kurt had often teased him about his sensitive nose, joking that he was better than a drug dog.

  He let Cisco settle behind Dusty and tried to blank his emotions so he could sift through the facts. One detail was confirmed—Otto had lied to the police. In Connor’s last call to dispatch, he’d reported helping Otto with a flat. Something had aroused his suspicions, prompting him to follow Otto. But where had Otto gone after he dropped the mare at the track?

  Frowning, he pushed Cisco back up beside Dusty. “Do you think this fellow caught up to Otto? Maybe in the parking lot?”

  “I don’t know. He might not have been quick enough.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you care so much?”

  “Curious.” Kurt shrugged. “I own the mare now. Maybe the guy knew something about her, something that would explain why she acts so weird. You were the last person to see him alive. Think.” She flinched at his words, and he gentled his voice. “It’s always hard to talk about stuff like this…I know.”

  Her eyes were a troubled green as they clung to his face, and she spoke slowly, almost reluctantly. “The police said he signed in with the security guard. He asked for directions to Otto’s barn. I talked to him around ten-thirty.” Her voice caught. “S-sometimes I wonder if there was something I could have done. Something I could have said that might have made a difference. I just directed him to the parking lot. Maybe I should have gone with him.”

  “I doubt anything you did or said would have changed things.” Kurt reached over and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “But did he mention why he wanted Otto?”

  She shook her head. “We didn’t talk long. He was in a hurry, and so was I.”

  “Even something insignificant might help.”

  “I’ve gone over everything he said, three or four times. I even showed the police where he stood, where Otto dropped the horseshoes and—”

  “Wait. You’re saying you saw Otto’s shoes?” Kurt’s voice turned so sharp, Cisco flattened his ears.

  She nodded. “They were in front of the stall. That man, Connor O’Neil, looked at them. He asked if Otto had just taken them off. When I said yes, he smiled.”

  “Describe his smile,” Kurt said.

  “What do you mean?” She jerked her head around.

  “Was it a smile a man gives an attractive lady, or was it a smile like he'd found something?”

  “That's silly. It was just a smile.”

  “Please, it’s important.”

  “Guess it was a satisfied smile.”

  “Describe the shoes,” he said, his voice hardening.

  “They weren’t aluminum race plates,” she muttered and her chin now had a mutinous tilt. “Just normal shoes.”

  “Were they extra thick or heavy?”

  She shook her head.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” She snapped the word over her shoulder and pushed Dusty into a jog.

  He let her go but felt the disappointment. Damn. Normal shoes were too thin to be hollowed out. Unless the mare’s vet check revealed something, his smuggling theory had just crashed. And his list of suspects was down to zero.

  They were both silent as they climbed the steep path and entered a stand of spruce. The horses seemed affected by their riders’ moods and plodded with gloomy ears and labored breathing. The trees filtered the sun’s rays, and the stink of rotting vegetation cloyed the air.

  Cisco jammed to a stop. Kurt stared at the trees snarled acro
ss the path, like a giant game of pick-up-sticks.

  “Can your horse cross that?” Julie asked as she studied the mess. She didn’t look at him, and it was clear she was annoyed with the way he’d grilled her. “If they get a leg caught and panic,” she added, “it could be quite a wreck.”

  “Cisco will be fine,” he said quietly, still nursing his disappointment. “Want me to cross first?”

  Her expression turned smug as she eyed his App, and she even had the gall to sniff. “I better go first. My horse is bred for this. Dusty’s one of our best trail horses. He doesn’t need a groomed track in the city.”

  She kicked Dusty forward, and Kurt smiled in spite of his failure to uncover any useful information. He should have guessed she’d interpret his words as a challenge—and of course, any self-respecting jockey would want to lead the way. Despite the blanks he’d shot today, he was still glad to be spending the day with her.

  Dusty’s head lowered, and the horse picked a careful route over the deadfall. In some spots, the branches were so high they scraped her stirrups. Dusty was almost safely across when his hind leg snagged in a vee of branches. Crack! A tree shifted, tilting under his belly and pinning his front legs.

  The rim of his eyes flashed white. He leaped in the air and charged forward, tossing Julie onto his neck. Smack! The saddlebags whacked his ribs, scaring him even further. When he finally scrambled to the other side, he was wide eyed and trembling.

  Kurt exhaled in relief. Not many riders could have stayed on through that kind of rodeo. Even Cisco had been entertained, his ears pricked as he watched Dusty’s odd contortions.

  Julie leaped off and ran her hands down the horse’s legs. “He's okay,” she said, color returning to her face.

  “What’s that on his hoof?” Kurt leaned forward, staring at the dark mark on Dusty’s left hoof. He’d noticed it before but had assumed it was dirt.

  “Hoof brand. A friend of Dad’s has a grazing permit. Some of our horses are turned out in the summer. The brand makes it easier to identify the carcasses,” she wrinkled her nose, “in case of animal attacks. What do you think? Want to try to cross, or should we find you an easier way around?”