Hunter Moon

скачать книгу бесплатно


That made her flush.

“Was I wrong about that?”

Izzie thought of her mother’s earlier tizzy and shook her head. She let her shoulders slump. She lived for the day that her brothers were old enough to take over, and she could live her own life. But from the way it looked now, there would be nothing to pass along to them. Izzie rallied. She could not let that happen. No one and nothing would stop her from retrieving every last cow.

“I’ve got to get them back,” she said.

Clay motioned to her truck and lowered the back gate. Then he offered her a hand up. They sat side by side amid the comings and goings of inspectors, livestock managers, tribal council. More than one cast them a cursory glance, and she wondered which ones would be reporting to their wives, who would report to her mother later on. Her mother had connections like the roots of an ancient pinyon pine. They were branched and deep.

“It looks like the rodeo,” Izzie muttered.

“Yeah.” Clay surveyed their surroundings and then focused on her. “Izzie, you hired me to give you a report.”

“I can’t pay you now.” She lowered her head, fighting against the burning in her throat. Crying in front of Clay was too humiliating, so she cleared her throat and gritted her teeth until the constriction eased.

Clay placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She glanced up, eyes somehow still dry.

“Izzie, you had a heck of a big truck up here. Only left yesterday.”

“You mean the earth-moving machinery, bulldozer and dump trucks?”

“No, I mean an eighteen-wheeler, actually, two of them.”

“Eighteen-wheelers? Yesterday. Eighteen-wheelers can’t haul dirt.”

“That’s right. But they were here. And they were loading and unloading the trucks. Moving contents from one to another. Five guys.”

“What were they doing up here?”

“Not certain.”

She knew that look. He had suspicions.

“What, Clay?”

“Moonshining, maybe, or drugs.”

“You mean stashing drugs here?” She glanced around, half expecting to see a pile of boxes. She’d heard about the Mexican cartels using Rez land for holding their illegal merchandise, guns, drugs and people because treaty restrictions prevented federal authorities from entering sacred lands and from conducting investigations without obtaining permission first.

“But that wouldn’t kill my cows.”

“It might. If they were cooking up here.”

“Cooking what?”

“Crystal meth.”

Izzie rocked backward as confusion wrinkled her brow.

“I don’t understand.”

“There are fumes, by-products. They are poisonous.”

“Poisonous?”

“Gabe is checking for residue.”

Izzie straightened as a ray of light broke through the clouds. If Clay was right, then there was nothing wrong with her herd. She could get them back. She could still keep her promise to her father.

“They’re not sick!” Izzie threw herself into Clay’s arms. “Oh, thank you!”

He stiffened for just a moment, and then he wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t know how it happened. She was pressed against him as relief flooded through her, replaced a moment later with blinding white heat. Her body tingled. She tipped her head back, offering Clay her mouth. He did not hesitate but swooped down, angling his head as he kissed her greedily. Her fingers raked his back as she hovered between the sweetness of the contact of their mouths and the need for so much more.

“Isabella Mary Nosie!”

Izzie recognized her mother’s sharp admonition and pushed off Clay’s chest at the same moment he released her. The result was that she rocked dangerously on the tailgate, and only Clay’s quick reflexes kept her from toppling to the ground. He freed her arm the moment she regained her equilibrium and slid to his feet.

Izzie faced her mother, who stood with eyes blazing with fury as she glared at her eldest daughter. Izzie tried to keep her head up, but she found herself shrinking under her mother’s censure and the curious stares of the men she had forgotten were even there.

“What do you think you are doing?” asked her mother.

Clay looked to her, but all she could do was stammer, so he answered instead.

“Izzie asked me to help her figure out what happened to her cows.”

Her mother shot her a look, and Izzie nodded.

“Well, that’s a fine how-do-you-do.” She turned to Izzie. “He’s a felon. You don’t ask felons to do police work.”

Izzie found her tongue. “He’s not a felon.”

Her mother laughed. “Criminal, then. A skunk can’t change his stripe, and this one is just like his father. Now you come along home with me this instant. If word of this gets out, I’ll die of shame.”

Izzie straightened her spine. “No, Mom. I can’t. I’ve got work to do.”