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“In a few weeks you can introduce him to riding in Texas. Have you thought about where you’re gonna keep him?”

“Nope. Not yet. I shouldn’t have sold my house in Pecan Creek. Wish I had it back now. Sometimes I’ve been known to do some really stupid shit.”

Billy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, we won’t talk about the stupidest one of all,” said Billy.”

“Nope. Not going there.”

Billy and I had a couple of beers before we hit the sack and I promised to teach him everything I could about police work during the time I had left in Montana.

Chapter Four

Thursday, October 11th.

Wild Stallion Ranch.

Outlaw had been fed and Billy and I were eating breakfast when the first accident call came in. “Sheriff speaking.”

“Sheriff Frost, there’s a bad accident on route two just before you get to Shelby. At least one dead for sure.”

“Has an ambulance been called?”

“Yes, sir. I called it myself for the lady and the child.”

“Thanks for the call. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Billy jumped up and took our dishes to the sink. “Where’s the accident?”

“West of Shelby. Just before the town.”

He was standing with the front door open looking at the snow. “Shit. I’ve got to plow before we can get out of here. I figured we had another hour before we had to leave.”

I grabbed for my coat and the watch cap I’d been wearing so I wouldn’t fuckin freeze to death. “I’ll start the truck and let it warm up. Just make a track to the road so we can get out of here. We’ll catch the rest later.”

“Yep.” He grabbed his coat and gloves and was gone.

I rushed outside and shivered as the cold wind hit me and cut through my clothes as if I was fuckin naked. Billy had already started the tractor and was plowing his way through the thick layer of snow that had accumulated overnight. I climbed into the truck and turned on the ignition, blowing hot air into my hands while I waited for it to warm up.

Billy did his best, but the snow was deep and in drifts. Took him a while and we weren’t on our way for another half hour.

As soon as Billy had made a path to the road, I drove the truck out of the driveway and headed towards the site of the accident. The snow on the road was thick, and I could feel the tires slipping and sliding, struggling to maintain traction on the icy surface. I tried to be careful and hurry at the same time.

It was still snowing and the wind was fierce. My face felt frozen as I peered into the blizzard.

“Only good thing about this snow is less hunters.”

“Yeah,” said Billy, “this weather is nasty for hunting. I wouldn’t want to be sleeping in a fuckin tent.”

Once we got as far as route two, the crash was only five minutes away. As I drove, my mind was cluttered with thoughts of what we might find at the accident. I’d seen plenty of gruesome scenes in my time as a marine and as a Texas Ranger, but the idea of a badly hurt woman and child was particularly hard to stomach. I pushed the thought out of my mind and focused on the road ahead, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

When we arrived at the scene, it was worse than I had imagined. The pickup was totaled, the front end crumpled like a soda can. I could see the outline of the woman and child inside, the driver mangled behind the wheel.

The husband is dead. Wife and kid in the back.

Someone had abandoned their car and failed to get it all the way off the road onto the shoulder. It was over to the side a bit, but not enough. Then the heavy snow had blanketed the abandoned vehicle and made it invisible to oncoming traffic.

The driver of the pickup only saw white in front of him, thought it was only snow, and didn’t apply the brakes. He drove straight into the parked car going a fair speed.