Way off she heard the sound of cattle and remembered that Jake wanted to move the herd to new pasture. Where could he be? Was he moving the cows this morning after all? She wished she knew how to saddle a horse. She’d ride out to find him. At least she would be in motion and not sitting around waiting for something to happen. She liked to be the one who made things happened.
She mused over a few more sips of coffee. She had the Ford 150, and it had four wheel drive. She hurried inside, fetched her purse and headed for the truck. She didn’t want to be left behind.
Jake debated putting in a call to the Sheriff before he found out what happened to Glory. He should report a suspected arson attempt, but they wouldn’t be able to do much about it until daylight, and it may have been an accident. If Glory had accidently overturned the can in a drunken stupor, then it was Jake’s problem to deal with, not the Sheriff’s. If he found Glory on the trail drunk and passed out that was his problem. If Glory was nowhere to be found, that was another. If Glory was hurt, he might need an ambulance, and it took a while for an ambulance to come this far from Rocky Point. He didn’t want to send an expensive ambulance on a wild goose chase. He decided against calling anyone until he knew for himself what had happened.
It wasn’t easy riding over rough ground with only the moon and stars for a guide, but Earl trotted ahead of him so Jake had his white shape to follow. He had debated coming in a truck. But if he had to ride fence looking for Glory, a truck wasn’t going to do it, neither would an all terrain vehicle over so much sage, rabbit brush and greasewood. It was all he could do to keep from falling asleep in the saddle, which he’d been known to do. The road to the BLM pasture was two rutted grooves, but the pinto was sure of foot, and they went along well enough. He had saddled the horse, collected his overnight gear, emergency responder medical kit, handheld amateur radio, and rifle because he didn’t know what he was going to meet up with or how long it would take to find Glory, if he were still on the ranch. His horse might have thrown him. Henry Crawford had been killed by getting thrown from a horse. Just about anything could happen out in the middle of nowhere.
Fortunately, the stock pond was on this end of the pasture. But since Jake had told Glory to check fences, he could be lying anywhere along the fence line, and the fence enclosed a good four hundred acres. Glory’s horse hadn’t come home which was not a good sign.
Earl was an amazing dog, sniffer that he was. He stayed on the trail, pausing occasionally to sniff the brush. It was like he knew his buddy, Lester, was in trouble, and he wanted to find him. Jake wished he had a nose like that dog. It would be a lot easier than trying to see tracks in the dark. Maybe Earl had figured out that they were trying to find Glory.
The stock pond came into view. There was a solar pump on this one, and the pond normally held water and only needed topping off. He slowed the horse as they came up over the mounded dirt and peered in. The pond was nearly dry. He let go a string of really good, heartfelt cuss words. The cows were not going to be happy if they didn’t have water at the end of the trail.
Dismounting, he went to see why the solar pump wasn’t working. When in doubt, check the power switch. It was in off position. If Glory had been here, he hadn’t figured that one out. Jake flipped on the switch. They were going to need sun to power the pump and that would be another hour. Stock ponds on solar pumps filled slowly, and there wouldn’t be enough water for the herd when they arrived. The pump wouldn’t be able to keep up.
He walked the area looking for any signs that Glory had been there. The ground was dried into deep pockets of hoof prints from last season. He found no telltale evidence.
Where could Glory have gone? Earl had only paused at the stock pond and trotted on. Maybe he was on to something. There was nothing for it but to ride the fence to see if the man had fallen and was hurt. The further it got into the day, the less hope Jake had of finding Glory. His feeling that their troubles were an inside job and that Glory was somehow involved would not give him rest. Glory didn’t seem the type to mastermind a plot to take down the entire H Bar O, which seemed like what was happening. Glory would be working for someone else. The question was who. He thought of the three men he had singled out on the list that he had shown to Fiona. He thought about her idea that the former girl who helped Opal was an accomplice.
He was so lost in thought he almost didn’t catch the one lone bark. Up ahead he made out two white shapes. Earl and Lester. They were guarding something. He reined in the pinto, and they approached at a slow walk. Even so, the horse spooked and nearly threw him. He kept his seat as the horse danced around the rumpled heap of a body. Mortimer Glory. Earl and Lester sat on their haunches and panted happily, their job done.
Jake quieted the pinto down, dismounted and looked Glory over. He tried to assess what had happened. The man was lying on his stomach, face turned to the side. Jake saw no obvious blood, but his face was covered with bruises like he had been beaten around the head. He checked for radial pulse. Faint but there was one. He ran through a quick head to toe trauma assessment, but found no breaks or open wounds. Because of the face bruises he was reluctant to tilt the head back, so he pulled on the jaw to help open the airways. As he worked, Jake could smell the sour odor of booze. He didn’t know if it were severe head trauma that kept Glory unconscious or alcohol poisoning.
Jake checked the ground around the body. An empty booze bottle lay in the brush. He was able to make out two sets of foot prints. He checked Glory’s feet. He was wearing a sad, old pair of work boots. The other set had the narrow heel and pointy toe of fancy cowboy boots. That told Jake a lot. Most honest working ranchers wore work boots or variations with a much wider sole. He was looking for someone who fancied dress cowboy boots when beating another person up.
This was a medical emergency. From the saddle bag he pulled out a handheld amateur radio. “This is KF7EOH. Kilo Foxtrot Seven Echo Oscar Hotel. I need medical assistance. Do you read me?”
Fiona met up with the herd moving along the road to the BLM pasture. Rosemary and Esme were riding behind and, when they saw who it was, rode over to have a chat. Fiona stayed in the truck and rolled down the window.
“Hey, girl, I like your new rig,” said Rosemary.
“Yes ma’am, that is a beauty,” said Esme. “Did you just get it?”
Fiona smiled. “Couple of days ago. I really like it. I’ve never owned a truck.”
“You’ll never drive anything else,” said Rosemary. “I bet you are looking for Jake.”
Fiona nodded.
“He’s up ahead. Sweet said he went looking for Glory who seems to be missing.”
“I thought I’d drive ahead to see if Jake needed help.”
“I bet he always welcomes help from you,” said Esme, and the two girls snickered.
Fiona smiled and shook her head at the pair.
Rosemary said, “We’ll move the herd to the side.”
They rode off to talk to Sweet, and he rode to the truck, touching his hat when he got to Fiona’s window.
“Hello, Sweet,” said Fiona. “Can I drive by? I want to see if Jake needs help.”
“Sure thing, Miss Fiona. We’ll move the cows to the side as far as we can.”
The buckaroos started whistling and yee-hawing to the cows and the calves. The herd was testy and noisy with bawling calves and mothers trying to find them. Two bulls were to the back of the herd.