rider swung out of the saddle. The sun’s bright rays glinted on the blond lights in the long tail of hair that hung below the rider’s hat, making it easy for Culley to recognize Jessy Calder.
Culley watched as she unlatched the tailgate to load her horse into the trailer. The more he thought about it the more unusual it seemed for Jessy to be out here alone. There was a time before she married Ty when she had worked for the Triple C as an ordinary cowhand, but with Calder dead, she was running things now.
Knowing that, Culley couldn’t help wondering what she was doing so far from headquarters. That curiosity coupled with the fact that Jessy was one of the few people he felt comfortable around, mostly because she didn’t care whether he talked or not, pushed him forward.
By the time he reached the fence line, Jessy had loaded her horse and fastened the trailer gate. Moving with long, purposeful strides, she headed for the driver’s side of the pickup, so wrapped up in her thoughts that she failed to notice him.
Loathe as he was to be the one making the opening gambit, Culley called out, “Sure didn’t figure on seein’ you out this way.”
Jessy halted with an almost guilty start. An instant later her wide mouth curved in a smile. “Hello, Culley. As for being out here—you know how it goes. I got tired of being cooped up inside and decided I wanted to feel a horse under me again. Now it’s back to work. See ya.” She sketched him a wave and climbed into the truck.
Culley lifted a hand in return and watched the rig pull away. “Her reasons seem sound enough,” he commented to his mount. “But they sure don’t explain why she’d drive an hour from headquarters to go a-ridin’.”
There were times when Culley couldn’t help being nosy, although he never thought of it as snooping. He just wanted that old curiosity to stop nagging him.
As fresh as her tracks were, they were easy to follow. Reading sign, as the old-timers called the ability to identify a person or animal by the track it left, was a self-taught skill for Culley, something he had picked up over the years. One of the first things he had learned was how to tell whether a horse or a cow had left a trail through the grass. It was a difference that was easy to spot, since a cow left the grass stalks bent in the direction it had just come from and a horse laid it down in the direction it was going.
Culley didn’t have to backtrail Jessy very far before he realized that she hadn’t been out for an aimless ride. She’d had a destination, and she had taken the straight route to reach it.
The trail led him directly to the north boundary fence. His sharp eyes noticed a place where the top wire had been mended. He rode closer to it and bent sideways in the saddle to examine it. The bright marks on the metal told him that the wire had been first snipped, then twisted back together again—very recently.
The saddle leather creaked as he straightened to sit erect, puzzled by his discovery. “I gotta tell ya, Brownie,” he muttered to the horse, “it’s one thing to ride all the way out here to fix a break in the fence, an’ it’s a horse of a different color to ride all the way out here, cut the wire, an’ then fix it. Why’d she want’a do that?”
The gelding snorted and swung its nose at a pesky fly nibbling on its shoulder. Absorbed with solving this puzzle, Culley stared blankly at a tuft of brown thread hooked on a barb along the middle wire a long time before he actually noticed it.
“Well now, what’s this?” He swung to the ground and picked it off the wire. There was another piece of thread snubbed on a barb next to the first. Only this one was more like a bit of lint. While Culley pondered the meaning of them, the gelding took advantage of the break to chomp on some grass.
“If I remember right,” he said, thinking back, “there was a brown saddle blanket tied behind the cantle of her saddle.” An answer began to
Culley watched as she unlatched the tailgate to load her horse into the trailer. The more he thought about it the more unusual it seemed for Jessy to be out here alone. There was a time before she married Ty when she had worked for the Triple C as an ordinary cowhand, but with Calder dead, she was running things now.
Knowing that, Culley couldn’t help wondering what she was doing so far from headquarters. That curiosity coupled with the fact that Jessy was one of the few people he felt comfortable around, mostly because she didn’t care whether he talked or not, pushed him forward.
By the time he reached the fence line, Jessy had loaded her horse and fastened the trailer gate. Moving with long, purposeful strides, she headed for the driver’s side of the pickup, so wrapped up in her thoughts that she failed to notice him.
Loathe as he was to be the one making the opening gambit, Culley called out, “Sure didn’t figure on seein’ you out this way.”
Jessy halted with an almost guilty start. An instant later her wide mouth curved in a smile. “Hello, Culley. As for being out here—you know how it goes. I got tired of being cooped up inside and decided I wanted to feel a horse under me again. Now it’s back to work. See ya.” She sketched him a wave and climbed into the truck.
Culley lifted a hand in return and watched the rig pull away. “Her reasons seem sound enough,” he commented to his mount. “But they sure don’t explain why she’d drive an hour from headquarters to go a-ridin’.”
There were times when Culley couldn’t help being nosy, although he never thought of it as snooping. He just wanted that old curiosity to stop nagging him.
As fresh as her tracks were, they were easy to follow. Reading sign, as the old-timers called the ability to identify a person or animal by the track it left, was a self-taught skill for Culley, something he had picked up over the years. One of the first things he had learned was how to tell whether a horse or a cow had left a trail through the grass. It was a difference that was easy to spot, since a cow left the grass stalks bent in the direction it had just come from and a horse laid it down in the direction it was going.
Culley didn’t have to backtrail Jessy very far before he realized that she hadn’t been out for an aimless ride. She’d had a destination, and she had taken the straight route to reach it.
The trail led him directly to the north boundary fence. His sharp eyes noticed a place where the top wire had been mended. He rode closer to it and bent sideways in the saddle to examine it. The bright marks on the metal told him that the wire had been first snipped, then twisted back together again—very recently.
The saddle leather creaked as he straightened to sit erect, puzzled by his discovery. “I gotta tell ya, Brownie,” he muttered to the horse, “it’s one thing to ride all the way out here to fix a break in the fence, an’ it’s a horse of a different color to ride all the way out here, cut the wire, an’ then fix it. Why’d she want’a do that?”
The gelding snorted and swung its nose at a pesky fly nibbling on its shoulder. Absorbed with solving this puzzle, Culley stared blankly at a tuft of brown thread hooked on a barb along the middle wire a long time before he actually noticed it.
“Well now, what’s this?” He swung to the ground and picked it off the wire. There was another piece of thread snubbed on a barb next to the first. Only this one was more like a bit of lint. While Culley pondered the meaning of them, the gelding took advantage of the break to chomp on some grass.
“If I remember right,” he said, thinking back, “there was a brown saddle blanket tied behind the cantle of her saddle.” An answer began to
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