Page 32

“I’m a big fan. Want to dance?’

“Yep, I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Seven

Sunday, May 27th.

Wild Stallion Ranch.

“What time do you girls have to be back at Marilyn’s ranch today?” I asked.

“We have to check in before seven,” said Lucy.

“We’ll get you there by seven. No worries.”

Tammy made pancakes for breakfast, especially for Harlan and as he was finishing off his huge stack, he emptied the syrup bottle.

“I’ll put syrup on my list,” said Tammy.

“Mommy gets maple syrup in a big tin when we go to our cabin in Canada,” said Lucy. “A can that big lasts for a lot longer than a bottle.”

“Uh huh, I think that’s a gallon can,” I said. “I should get one of those for Harlan.”

The girls laughed.

While Tammy and Lucy cleared the table and did the dishes, Harlan set up his laptop and searched for the wild horse sanctuary near us. He came up with a location in Saint Mary—a little town west of us—and they had a phone number listed for the office.

“Saint Mary, Travis. Doesn’t look too far away. Maybe forty miles. You can call ahead and get us an appointment and find out who we should be telling about the fuckin rustlers.”

“Yep, I’ll call this morning from the station.”

“Right, the station,” said Harlan. “It’s Sunday and Molly ain’t working, but we’ve got ourselves a full house down there and they might want breakfast.”

“Are all the jail cells full?” asked Tammy.

“Yep,” I said. “We’re full up. One cell has two guys in it—Art Andrews and his cousin, Grant.”

“Art Andrews.” Tammy made a face. “He grabbed my arm and tried to make me dance with him once. He smells bad. A nasty piece of work.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, he sure is.”

Harlan gave me a look.

Sheriff’s Office. Coyote Creek.

When we got into town, the first thing I did was walk across the street to get seven of the breakfast specials the diner made for the prisoners. The county kept a running tab and all I had to do was give them the number we needed for each meal.

Harlan stayed at the station and made coffee. He’d need two pots to fill up seven mugs and that would leave none for us.

As soon as they heard me unlock the run, the two women started screaming. Josie Masters was yelling for a phone call and Tanya Boyd was shouting at the top of her lungs saying she needed to talk to me in private.

While the prisoners were quiet eating their breakfasts, I went into my office and called the number for the wild horse sanctuary. A recording came on saying the office wasn’t open on Sunday, but they’d return my call on Monday. They invited me to leave a message. I stated who I was and asked for the person in charge to call me the following day concerning an urgent matter.

Giving the prisoners long enough to finish eating, I ambled into the run to collect the containers and the empty coffee cups.While doing that chore, I unlocked Tanya’s cell and took her into my office for the private talk she wanted so badly.

“Sit down, Tanya, and say what you have to say.”

“I didn’t kill Tory Masters.”