Page 57 of One in a Million
“Not yet. Over.”
“Come back, then, all of you. Stay close to the herd. We’ll continue the search. Over.”
“Roger. Over and out.”
Heading away from the cattle, they met the cowboys coming in. The young men looked drawn and nervous, all of them probably thinking the same thing.
“We’ll find him.” Lila raised her voice over the sound of the four-wheeler’s idling engine. “We won’t stop looking until we do.”
They raced into the darkness, Lila driving a wide zigzag pattern and Roper sweeping the landscape with the spotlight. A small cluster of goats, escapees from Charlie’s debacle, scattered at their approach. A coyote flattened its body in the grass and slunk away. But there was no sign of Smokey or anything he might have left behind. Lila remembered the polite young man who’d driven her and Sam out to the mesquite thicket earlier. She tried not to think about the worst thing that could have happened, but as the minutes passed, the unthinkable became a possibility, then a worry, then a near certainty.
How much would a lanky young cowboy weigh? Surely no more than a hundred and fifty pounds—a feather to drag, compared to the weight of a yearling calf.
Steeling herself, she turned the four-wheeler in the direction of the mesquite thicket and gunned the engine.
Roper didn’t question her action. He would know how and where the calf had been discovered earlier. His fear would be the same as hers.
His breath quickened as the spotlight fell on the brushy outline of the thicket. As they drew closer, he moved his rifle into position with his free hand.
Lila didn’t expect to see the predator. If it was close by, the sound of the four-wheeler would either cause it to flee or drive it deeper into the mesquite. All that mattered now was finding the missing cowboy. Maybe he wouldn’t be here, she thought. Maybe, minutes from now, they would come upon him, dazed and disoriented, trying to find his way back to the herd. There was still hope.
But that hope died as she neared the mesquite and swung the vehicle in a forty-five degree turn to view the thicket’s east side, where the dead calf had been found. Roper swept the edge of the trees with the spotlight, stopped, and sucked in his breath. The light quivered in his hand.
“I’m sorry, Lila,” he said. “You can call your cowboys. Tell them the search is over.”
Slowing the engine to an idle, Lila could see where he was shining the light. Smokey had died much the same way the calf had been killed. She could only hope that death had come swiftly.
She forced her emotions to freeze. “The call can wait. We can’t just leave him out here. There’s a tarp under the back seat.”
“Drive in closer,” Roper said. “I’ll wrap the boy in it and load him on the back seat. You’ll need to cover me with the rifle. We’ll be robbing a dangerous animal of its kill. If it charges, do you think you can shoot it?”
“I’ll have to, won’t I?” she said. “I’ve never killed anything, but Frank taught me how to use a gun.”
“Then our best bet is to keep the beast at a safe distance. Do anything to make noise. Rev the engine, maybe fire a shot over the thicket to scare it. Sing if you have to. Whatever you do, don’t get out of the vehicle.”
“I understand.” She pulled up within a few feet of the thicket. With the headlights shining on the spot where Smokey’s remains lay, she applied the brake and chambered a shell in the Weatherby—a big game rifle capable of bringing down a rhino. Roper dragged the tarp out from under the seat. The heavy canvas appeared large enough to do what was needed.
* * *
Danger senses prickling, he climbed out of the four-wheeler. He could see the doglike pawprints and the flattened, bloodied grass where the body had been dragged. A stone’s toss away, the calf’s carcass was nothing but bones. The vultures and ravens had picked it clean.
Trying not to think about how the cowboy had died, he spread the tarp on the ground. He could see that the animal had started to feed before their arrival had driven it off. It would be watching him from the mesquite. He could only hope that it wouldn’t charge, and that if it did, Lila wouldn’t freeze or miss.
Roper clasped the booted feet, dragged the body onto the tarp, and lined it up with the edge. Dropping to a crouch, he checked for any sign of a charge. Seeing nothing and hearing only the roar of the engine, he lifted the tarp’s edge and began rolling the body to wrap it. The job took less than a minute, but it seemed longer, knowing the predator could spring out at any second to reclaim its kill.
Standing, he lifted the wrapped body in his arms and began backing away, one step, then another. Once he thought he saw a branch move, but that was all. He reached the vehicle, laid his burden across the back seat, and sprang into the passenger side. Lila handed him the rifle and floored the gas pedal. The vehicle roared away, leaving the thicket behind.
At a safe distance, Lila slowed the engine to an idle. “Did you see anything back there?” she asked.
“No. But I could feel something close by, watching me. I was glad to get out of there. Have you called your cowboys?”
“I was about to do that. They’ll take it hard. Everybody liked Smokey. I’ll need to call nine-one-one, too, when we get back in signal range.”
“Did the boy have a family?”
“I don’t know. But Darrin hired him. That information should be on file in the office. Blast Darrin, I’ll need to call him, too. Maybe if he’d stayed here and done his job, this poor boy would still be alive.”
With the four-wheeler briefly stopped, she called the cowboys on the walkie-talkie and exchanged a few words. “I told the boys we were taking the body back to the ranch,” she said, shifting the gears. “Seeing their friend would only make things worse for them. Remind me to make sure they get some breakfast in the morning and a chance to rest—I can’t count on Darrin to do that.” She started off again, taking the vehicle at a slow pace to avoid spilling the wrapped body off the back seat.