Breaking Free: A Colorado High Country Crossover Novel, Pamela Clare [i can read book club .TXT] 📗

Jason frowned. “That’s not okay. I’m sorry.”

With the tarp in place, they made their way back to the truck.

“I called the sheriff’s department,” Jack told them. “They’re sending a deputy this afternoon. I was wondering if we could head over to the other pasture to look at the other two sites before lunch.”

Winona had taken off the entire day. “I’ve got time.”

“Fine by me.” Jason turned and walked toward the trees. “Before we go, I want to check the edge of the forest, see if I can find anything else. The poacher left the pasture heading this way.”

Winona walked beside him, amazed at how quickly he moved. She’d have been on her hands and knees, crawling along with a magnifying glass if she’d been looking for sign, but he walked at a normal pace. Did he have laser eyes?

He stopped, knelt. “Do you have any more of those nitrile gloves?”

There, lying in the duff, was a brass shell casing.

“I’ll get some.” She ran back to the truck where Jack and Nate stood talking, grabbed a pair of gloves, and hurried back to Jason.

He slipped a glove onto one hand, picked up the shell casing, and examined it. “Thirty-ought-six. Absolutely big enough to put down a steer.”

He dropped the brass inside the other nitrile glove, tucked it into his pocket, and got to his feet.

Winona turned, glanced back to where the steer had died. “The shooter would’ve had a clear line of sight from here. What distance is this—fifty yards?”

“I’d say that’s about right. An easy shot.” Jason turned, walked twenty or so paces into the forest. “He passed through here.”

Jack and Nate joined them.

“Did he find something?” Jack asked.

“So far, a thirty-ought-six shell casing and some tracks.”

Jason walked back to them, handed Jack the nitrile glove with the shell casing. “It looks like he shot the steer from the edge of the forest here. Then he loaded the bagged meat onto some kind of four-wheeler and headed deeper into the mountains.”

“Into the mountains?” Jack’s expression went dark. “That’s our land.”

“Is there a highway or road he could have used for his exfil?”

“There are a couple of old mining roads, but it’s mostly untouched wilderness.”

Nate met his father’s gaze. “We need to find this son of a bitch.”

Chapter 7

Jason walked through the pasture where the other two steers had been killed but found little. Whatever sign there’d been had washed away in the rain or been trampled by grazing cattle. But based on what he’d learned about wolf behavior from Winona, what they didn’t find was revealing.

No bone fragments. No drag marks. No depressions in the grass where a wolf might have sat down to feed.

A quick walk along the edge of the forest had yielded three more .30-06 shell casings. He’d be willing to bet that ballistics tests would reveal they’d been fired from the same firearm as the first.

Before they made it back to the house for lunch, the sheriff arrived.

“I appreciate you coming out here yourself, Sheriff Pella.” Jack shook his hand. “This is Jason Chiago. He’s an ICE agent with the Shadow Wolves. He’s been helping us piece together what’s happening here.”

Pella, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, shook Jason’s hand. “That’s an impressive resume. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

They drove back to the other pasture where the evidence was preserved, and Jason walked Sheriff Pella through the scene, ending with the tread marks from the four-wheeler. Winona answered Pella’s questions about wolves and what they ought to expect at the site of a wolf kill.

Sheriff Pella looked up from his notepad. “It sure looks to me like you’ve got a human problem, Jack. Those can be the toughest to resolve.”

“Don’t I know it.” Jack looked up at the mountainside behind them. “We’ve had poachers on our land before—hunters who camp illegally and take deer, elk, and moose. But we’ve never had a poacher go for our beef herd. We’re organizing the men, putting armed riders in the pastures this afternoon. Nate also plans to take some of the men and ride patrols in this area to make our presence felt.”

“That all sounds good. I can increase patrols on the highway near the ranch.” When this failed to impress Jack, Pella went on. “My two best deputies are in Denver giving depositions, but I could send one of them out here tomorrow morning and try to pick up that trail left by the four-wheeler—if Agent Chiago has the time.”

“I’ll do it—provided Winona comes along. There’s only one of us here who knows how to handle a wolf.”

You just want to spend time with her.

He brushed that thought away.

Winona looked up at him through those big, brown eyes. “If I can get coverage for the clinic again, I’m happy to help.”

They worked through the details with Sheriff Pella. They would meet the deputy at the ranch house tomorrow at nine and see where the trail led. If Jason and Winona wanted to carry a firearm, they were welcome to do so.

“I don’t think there’s much chance of finding this bastard, but it might help to figure out where he’s getting onto your land.” Sheriff Pella held his hand out to Jason. “Agent Chiago, I’m impressed. I’ve never seen a Shadow Wolf in action. If you ever get sick of working for the feds, you’ve got a spot on my team.”

Jason didn’t tell the sheriff that it would be a cold day in hell before he left Sells. “Thank you, sir.”

As the sheriff drove away, Jason, Winona, and Jack piled back into Jack’s truck and started the drive back to the ranch house.

“I’m grateful to both of you for your help today. Tomorrow is bound to take most of the day. My family and I would love to have you both as guests of the ranch. We can grill some steaks, put you up in our cabin, where you can soak in our hot tub. I’ll make you a good breakfast the next morning,