Colton 911: Caught In The Crossfire. Linda O. JohnstonЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Melody Hayworth pulled opened the front door of the main house of OverHerd Ranch before the doorbell finished chiming.

      She’d been waiting inside uncomfortably, along with Pierce Tostig, one of the other ranch hands, since their boss had called half an hour ago.

      It was midafternoon. Earlier, a couple of the other hands had headed out toward the pasture where one of the herds of special, valuable Angus cattle had supposedly spent the night and morning, as usual…but they hadn’t found them there. Using the GPS apps on their phones, they’d confirmed that the geotagged cows were now far away, somewhere still on the ranch, but heading toward its outer edges. It appeared that the fence had been partly destroyed, apparently by rustlers, and the cows had gotten out. Those hands had called Clarence, who’d expressed concern not only about the missing stock, but also about those that remained. He’d insisted that all of the ranch hands—or at least most of them—find and protect the rest.

      He’d also said he’d get the authorities involved, and then ordered that a couple of employees—Pierce Tostig and Melody—should stick around to help and advise the sheriff’s department when someone from there arrived at the ranch, then stay involved in finding those missing cattle.

      Now, Melody said “Please come in” to the man in uniform who stood there—a deputy sheriff, according to the patch on his upper left sleeve.

      “Thanks.” He immediately held out his hand for a shake after she shut the door. “I’m Deputy Casey Colton,” he said. “I was sent here by Selectman Clarence Edison because—”

      “Because some of our—his—cattle have been rustled,” Melody interrupted. She had no need to wait for any further introductions, but she noticed that his grip was strong and somehow sexy, which was irrelevant. Her boss had made it clear in his phone call that she and the others were to give the deputy who showed up all the information they had about the rustling situation. And to show him where the cattle had been located, and how they’d apparently gotten out…with help.

      “Let’s go in here first,” she said to Deputy Colton, gesturing for him to follow her through the attractively decorated wooden entryway into the adjoining living room. Melody considered the decor a bit overdone, but it worked well for a ranch house owned by someone as revered—and rich—as her boss.

      She watched the deputy’s face as he looked around. The guy was good-looking, and not just because he wore that uniform. His hair was brown and cut relatively short. His matching eyebrows over dazzling blue eyes were nicely arched and his chin was slightly prominent. He had some light facial hair, maybe surprising because of his job. But it looked good on him.

      In fact, every part of his appearance was eye-catching—and Melody could have kicked herself for even noticing.

      The only thing important about this guy was whether he could find the missing cattle.

      For now, his boots rapped on the portion of the wooden floor not covered by an antique gold-and-brown area rug. The deputy approached Pierce, who stood near one of the windows at the far side of the room beside the stone fireplace.

      Heading toward them, Pierce was dressed even more casually than Melody’s typical blue denim work shirt, jeans and black boots with tight laces. He wore an oversize, short-sleeved white T-shirt and overly faded jeans—fashionable, perhaps, but it seemed as if there were more holes than denim.

      “Hi,” the deputy said, stopping near the side of the ornate brown leather sofa set that dominated the room’s seating arrangement. He introduced himself to Pierce, as he’d done with Melody, and was clearly taking charge of this meeting. “Can we sit down? I want to hear everything about the missing cattle—where they were, who discovered they were gone. Everything.”

      “Yeah, I figured.” Pierce plopped down on one of the two-seater portions of the sofa set. Ears protruded from wavy hair clipped close on the sides of his head. He was around forty, like Melody, and was clean-shaven with blue eyes. Pierce was okay-looking and mostly genial, but perhaps not as hard a worker as he should be.

      Melody took a seat on the similar sofa section, while the deputy sat on the larger one and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He looked toward her as if encouraging her to begin the description.

      But Pierce took over. Pointing toward the rear of the house, he described the five-hundred-acre ranch and about how many cattle there were—quite a few more than those that were stolen, fortunately. “Our main range is out that way. It’s divided into sections because of the terrain. Dry sand in some areas, grass and higher growth in others, lots of hillsides, small mountains, all that kind of thing.”

      “Interesting,” the deputy said. “I’ll want to see it soon, or as much of it as possible. Now, tell me more about who discovered the problem and how.”

      Again he looked toward Melody. Pierce attempted to answer, never mind that Deputy Colton seemed to be addressing her. But as much as she liked Pierce and the way he mostly helped her learn about this ranch, Melody disliked being ignored. She spoke up, talking over Pierce.

      “As it turns out, I probably should have been the one to discover the problem, but I wasn’t.” She described how she and some ranch hands, including Pierce, resided in apartments in the bunkhouse behind this house and slightly west of the stables. The fenced-in ranch land began behind them, and the several herds of cattle ranged in different fenced areas within it.

      Last night, she hadn’t slept well, although she wasn’t sure why. “Now, though, I believe I might have heard something in the distance while asleep that disturbed me, though I didn’t fully awaken.”

      “I’ll want to see the location of your residences, particularly yours,” the lawman said.

      “Of course, Deputy Colton.” From what she’d learned, the name Colton was an important one in many areas. Whether or not he was a lawman, though, she didn’t particularly like his knowing where she lived.

      “Just call me Casey,” the law-enforcement official said with a small grin on that good-looking face. As uncomfortable as she felt, she knew that getting along with him, including being on a first-name basis, was probably going to be helpful in the long run as they worked with him to find the missing cattle.

      “Okay, Casey. And as you know, I’m Melody.”