Page 58 of One in a Million
“And what about you? You’re going to need some food and rest, too,” Roper said.
“I can rest after Darrin shows up. But there’s no need for you to stay after we get back to the ranch. You’ll want to go home, get cleaned up, and change.”
Roper glanced down. He’d paid little attention to his blood-splotched hands and clothes. They were nothing compared to the tragedy that had just taken place. “I’ll get around to that. But meanwhile, somebody needs to hunt that monster down and destroy it before it kills again.”
“Whatever it is, it’s got to be one of Charlie’s escaped animals,” Lila said.
“Then Charlie should be held responsible. He should kill it and pay compensation for the damage it’s done.” Roper glanced back to check the canvas-wrapped bundle on the back seat. “As if any amount of money could make up for the loss of that boy.”
“What about those animal rights people who broke into Charlie’s compound and opened pens and cages? Shouldn’t they be held responsible, too? And what about Darrin? Those cowboys were working for him. He was in charge, and he left them out there on their own. What about me? Was there something I could’ve done differently? Where does the blame stop, Roper?”
“Nothing that happened was your fault.” He wanted to touch her shoulder, but he remembered his bloodstained hands.
“I have an appointment with my lawyers in Abilene tomorrow,” she said. “It concerns a different matter, but I’ll ask about liability for Smokey’s death and the other damages. Darrin will probably have his own answers, but I suspect they’ll be geared toward protecting him and making money.”
They were coming up on the ranch house now. Roper could see lights—more lights than had been on earlier when he and Lila had left. Maybe somebody had gotten word of what had happened.
Lila drove in the main gate and up to the house. Three figures were standing on the front porch—Sam, Jasmine, and Madeleine.
* * *
Stopping the vehicle, Lila jumped to the ground and strode up the porch steps. “One of our cowboys has been killed by that wild animal,” she said. “The body’s in the vehicle. Madeleine, call your son and tell him to get here—now. Sam, how soon can you get the police here with an ambulance?”
Sam had his phone in his hand. “What happened? They’ll want to know.”
“The same thing that happened to that yearling calf. The beast is still out there. So are the rest of the cowboys. They’ve been guarding the cattle all night. As nearly as we can tell, Smokey was separated from the others. His horse must’ve spooked and bolted. The rest of what happened, you can imagine.”
The aroma of fresh coffee drifted from the kitchen. Mariah must be up, too. Maybe she’d heard the four-wheeler leave earlier and roused the others.
Lila glanced back toward the vehicle where she’d left Roper. He was gone—probably to where he could wash the blood from his hands.
Dressed in a black silk robe, Madeleine was on her phone, gesturing with her free hand as she spoke. Sam was making a call, too. Jasmine, in the ragged leggings and faded Grateful Dead tee she favored for sleeping, stood apart, her face in shadow.
“Are you all right?” Lila asked her.
“Not really. But I suppose I will be. Did you see the animal? Do you know what it is?”
“Not yet. We’re pretty sure it was hiding in that big mesquite thicket, but we never saw it. Why? Do you know something about it? Does the animal belong to Charlie?”
“Probably—I mean, who else would it belong to? But no, I don’t know what it is or anything else. Are you going to kill it?”
“We’ll have to kill it, hopefully before it attacks again. Did you know the cowboy? Smokey, they called him.”
“I knew him, but not very well. He was a sweet kid. I’m sorry it had to be him. Nobody deserves to die like that.”
She turned away from Lila and walked off, clearly not wanting to say more. Roper had reappeared, his face and hands damp from washing. He took his place by the four-wheeler, as if standing vigil over the young cowboy’s body. Mariah brought out coffee and cups on a tray, which she placed on a low table. Lila poured a cup and took it to Roper before she filled a second cup for herself.
She was just finishing her coffee when the headlights of Darrin’s Mercedes emerged from the darkness. Tires screeching, the big sedan swung off the road and headed down the driveway. As Darrin pulled up to the house, Lila set her cup back on the tray and summoned the last of her self-control.
Rumple haired, with his shirt half unbuttoned, he climbed out of the car. “Mother told me what happened,” he said. “Where’s the body?”
“Right over there.” It was Sam who answered, nodding toward the four-wheeler. “The police are sending a van to pick it up and take it to the morgue. You can look, but you’ll want to prepare yourself.”
Darrin looked vaguely ill. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“No!” Lila’s frayed nerves snapped. She seized her stepson’s arm and dragged him over to the vehicle where the cowboy’s body lay wrapped in the tarp. Motioning Roper aside, she yanked open the end flap far enough to reveal a boyish face, dead white, bloodied, and frozen in a rictus of terror.
“Take a good look, Darrin. Do you even know his name?” she demanded. “He was called Smokey, and he was just a boy. If you’d stayed here to manage things, he might still be alive.” She folded the canvas to cover the ravaged face again.