Showdown at Widow Creek (9 page)

Lost in thought, I didn’t reply. I was finally starting to put the pieces together. If Mike and Tim were behind everything, then they had probably accomplished what they had set out to accomplish. Everything they had done had put us behind schedule. The bigger question was: Why?

“Frank?” Sarah asked. “Earth to Frank.”

We topped a small hill and began trotting down the other side. It was a good thing that Harvey knew the way home too. I had totally spaced out.

I blinked. “What? Oh, yeah.”

But it was Sarah’s turn to space out. She stared into the distance and didn’t speak.

“Sarah?” I asked.

She held up a hand and shushed me, pulling Hondo to a stop. I did the same with Harvey. Things were much quieter with the wagon and shuffling herd behind us. A light breeze rustled the tall grass. Birds sang in the treetops. A lone bell rang in the distance.

“That’s the ranch bell,” Sarah explained.

“Is it Joe?” I asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know. But that bell usually means trouble.” She spun Hondo around and galloped back up the hill. I followed her as she stopped in front of the wagon. “Bell’s ringing, Dad.”

“You two check it out,” Wally replied. “I’ll send the others after you. Go, go!”

We galloped down the clear path that cut through the ranch. I did my best to hold on as Harvey kept pace with Hondo. When the rest of the cowhands caught up to us, it felt like we were in a posse chasing down bank robbers. Joe would’ve loved it. As for me, I kept a tight grip on the saddle horn, hoping I wouldn’t fall off.

As we reached the top of the last hill, the WW ranch complex came into view. No one stopped to admire the sights, but I immediately saw why. A column of black smoke billowed from a big red barn.

“Joe,” I said, my stomach tightening. I goaded Harvey to run faster.

Our group swarmed over the hill and sped to the ranch. I was relieved when I finally spotted Joe. My younger brother hurriedly led a wide-eyed horse out of the barn and into the nearby pens.

“Call 911?” I shouted. I regretted letting Wally confiscate our cell phones.

Sarah shook her head. “No time.”

“Why hasn’t the sprinkler system kicked in?” Lucky asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Sarah. We were closing in on the barn.

“I’ll check it out,” Lucky shouted. “Ned, Dusty, get on the hose. Spray the outside!”

Lucky peeled away toward the main house. Ned and Dusty pulled in the opposite direction, and Sarah and I skidded to a stop in front of Joe. My brother was bent over, coughing. He stood next to a pen with three frightened horses.

Joe pointed to the smoking barn. “There’s one more in the back.”

“That’ll be Magic,” said Sarah, jumping off of Hondo. She handed Hondo’s reins to Joe and turned to me. “Let’s go.”

I jumped off of Harvey and handed his reins to Joe. “Keep breathing.”

Joe held up a thumb and coughed again. I followed Sarah into the smoke-filled barn.

We crouched low as we walked inside. Rows of open stalls lined each side. Ahead of us, a column of bright-orange flames licked up the back left corner. The barn wasn’t yet fully engulfed, but it wouldn’t be long before the flames took over everything.

I could feel the heat as soon as we were inside. Panicked whinnies emanated from within the stall in the back right corner. Sarah stood long enough to snatch a rope from a hook on the wall. Then she dashed to the last stall on the right.

“Easy, girl.” She unlatched the stall door and turned to me. “Take off your bandanna and cover her eyes.”

I untied my bandanna and spread it open while Sarah reached in and attached the rope to Magic’s halter. Wide-eyed, the horse jerked her head up in a panic.

“Whoa, girl. Easy, Magic,” Sarah soothed her as she stroked the horse’s head.

I coughed as I held my bandanna over the horse’s eyes.

“Okay.” Sarah backed up. “Here we go.”

The three of us swiftly walked out of the smoke-filled barn. The horse still seemed frightened but not as panicked as before. I choked back a cough to keep the blindfold in place.

My throat was on fire as we finally reached the exit and emerged into the sweet, fresh air.

“I got her,” Joe said as he ran up and took the lead from Sarah.

As the horse walked past, Sarah and I doubled over in coughing fits. A loud hiss erupted behind us. I turned and saw water sprinklers on the barn’s rafters. They sprayed wide arcs of water, and the flames shrank back.

Lucky ran up to us. “Someone cut the power feed and the backup generator.” He pointed to the back of the barn. “But that should kill the fire inside. I’ll make sure Ned and Dusty have the outside covered.”

Still coughing, Sarah just nodded.

As Lucky joined the others, Joe returned from the horse pen. “You two all right?”

Cough.
“Just . . .”
Cough.
Hack.
“. . . peachy,” I replied.

Sarah coughed again and looked at Joe. “What happened?”

Joe told her about seeing the riders west of the ranch before he spotted smoke rising from the barn.

“I rang the bell because . . . isn’t that what you do?” Joe shrugged. “And then I tried to get as many horses out as possible.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, then turned back to the barn. Less smoke billowed out of the entrance, and the flames were completely gone.

Sarah shook her head. “I’m sick of this.” She marched over to where Joe had tied their horses.

Joe and I exchanged glances.

Sarah untied Hondo, swung herself onto his back, and rode away at a gallop. At first she headed north, toward her father and the rest of the cattle drive. But then she swung west and kicked Hondo into a full run.

“Oh, boy,” I said. She was after the culprits.

As one, Joe and I ran to our horses and climbed on. We urged them into a gallop, turning them westward. Not that she couldn’t handle it, but we weren’t about to let Sarah confront those guys alone.

F
RANK AND I RODE AS
fast as we could but couldn’t catch up to Sarah. Hondo was fast, and Sarah was more experienced. We kept her in sight as we trailed her westward.

“The motive was to slow us down,” Frank announced.

I grinned. “Way ahead of you, bro. That’s why I made it to the ranch so fast.”

“So the bad guys just wanted to keep us away from the ranch so they could burn it down?” he asked.

“Sounds pretty stupid, if you ask me,” I replied. “They could’ve beaten us here days ago. Why do all that other stuff?”

Up ahead, Sarah crested a rise and disappeared on the other side.

“Looks like Sarah’s going to ask them personally,” Frank said. “Alone.”

“Yah!” I shouted, urging Norman faster.

As we topped the hill, we spotted Sarah in the distance. She slowed Hondo and walked him into a tree line before disappearing into the forest.

“We’re losing her,” Frank said.

We raced across the open field toward the place we’d last seen her. When we reached the trees, we slowed our horses and Frank took the lead. I followed him into the dense forest.

“Do you see her?” I asked.

“No,” he replied.

I leaned out to look around him. “How about a trail?”

“Maybe.” Frank nudged Harvey forward.

We snaked through the trees and dense undergrowth. We had to lean away and duck under low branches as we went. Our horses made one heck of a racket, snapping downed branches and crumpling dried leaves. It was a good thing we weren’t trying to sneak up on her.

As we moved deeper into the woods, another sound rose to the surface—deep rumbling mixed with high-pitched whines. But I recognized the rhythmic beeps accompanying them—construction sounds. The beeps of heavy machinery in reverse.

The noises grew louder as we finally spotted Sarah. She stood on the ground beside Hondo, their backs to us. As we rode forward, she put up a hand.

“Careful,” she warned. “We call this Widow Creek for a reason.”

Frank and I climbed down from our horses and walked forward. There was a drop-off ahead—a big one. I leaned forward and noticed that we were standing atop a tall cliff. A tiny creek snaked along the ground at least one hundred feet below.

Beyond the creek was the source of the construction noises. Several large pieces of machinery were clearing the land, chopping trees. They worked together brutally but efficiently, slowly disassembling the forest below. The air was filled with the smell of diesel and freshly cut wood.

First, bulldozers would plow over small trees and underbrush, clearing wide paths to larger trees. Next, there were strange tractors with a horizontal set of pincers. The giant claw would clamp down on the lower part of the tree trunk and hold it in place. Then a huge chain-saw blade would emerge from the pincer and slice through the trunk. The tractor then lifted the severed tree and hauled it away.

“This was such a beautiful forest,” Sarah said quietly. Her spirit seemed to have been sapped away by the desolate landscape below.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Timber poachers,” Sarah explained.

“I’ve heard of animal poachers but not timber poachers,” Frank said.

Sarah nodded. “It’s more common than you think. They come onto people’s property and cut as much timber as they can. It happens in state forests, national parks, and especially ranches that have tons of acres that they can’t patrol all the time.”

“Or on property where the owners will be gone for a while,” Frank added.

I pointed to the equipment below. “There’s the motive, right there. That’s why someone wanted to slow us down.”

“So let’s stop them!” Frank cried.

Sarah sighed. “It’s too late. They’re almost done anyway. See?” She pointed to one of the tractors being loaded onto a long flatbed trailer.

“Well, we can at least report them,” Frank suggested. “Maybe stop them from doing it to someone else.”

I squinted at the trucks. “If I had binoculars, we could at least write down some plate numbers.”

“Someone should have to pay,” agreed Frank.

Sarah took a deep breath. “I know a way down there.” She climbed onto her horse. “Let’s go.”

We followed Sarah as she rode along the cliff face. We wove through the woods, and soon the scene of the destruction was out of sight. Then Sarah turned back toward the cliff and disappeared from view. As Frank and I followed, we saw her riding down a thin, steep trail on the side of the cliff. Frank gave me a nervous glance as he urged his horse to follow. I steered Norman down last; all three of us leaned back in our saddles as we trotted over the steep grade.

Luckily, the horses were surefooted and we safely reached the creek below. Following Sarah’s lead, we tied the horses to some smaller trees behind some scrub brush.

We crept through what was left of the forest, carefully making our way toward the unnatural clearing. We didn’t have to worry about keeping quiet, since the loud noises masked our footsteps. We made our way to a massive tree on the edge of the clearing and huddled behind it. The thing had to be five feet wide—large enough to hide all three of us from view.

“This better?” Sarah whispered.

“Much.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my pen and notebook.

That’s when a sharp
click
sounded behind us. I froze. It wasn’t just any click. It was the kind I’ve heard in
all
my favorite westerns—the sound of the hammer being pulled back on a six-shooter. I hoped I was wrong as we slowly turned around.

But I wasn’t.

Two masked cowboys stood three feet away, one aiming a large pistol at us.

I
GLANCED AT MY BROTHER.
“What do we do now, Cowboy Joe?”

Joe shrugged and slowly raised his hands. “Uh, reach for the sky?”

“That’s right,” said the man with the gun, who was wearing a black bandanna. “Nice and easy.”

In our short, action-packed careers as detectives, Joe and I have faced this kind of scenario quite a few times. We never really get used to it, but the initial shock value had worn off.

“Mike? Tim?” asked Sarah. “Why are you doing this?”

The man wearing the red bandanna glanced nervously at his companion and then back at Sarah. “We don’t know who you’re talking about,” he said nervously.

Sarah wasn’t fazed. “Everyone knows you’ve been causing all this trouble. You’re going to get caught eventually.”

Black Bandanna pointed the barrel at Sarah. “First of all, no one’s seen our faces. And second, if we
were
the two fellas you’re talking about, I imagine that we’d have a nice alibi set up.”

“A few cowhands on an out-of-state ranch who will swear we were with them the whole time,” Red Bandanna added with a chuckle.

“Shut it!” Black Bandanna barked at him. He twirled the barrel of his pistol. “Turn around.”

We did as we were told, and I found myself staring at thick tree bark.

“Uh, not very honorable to shoot someone in the back,” Joe pointed out.

“We won’t shoot you unless you try something,” the man told us.

One of them grabbed my wrist and jerked it behind me. He pulled down my other arm, and I felt him tying my wrists together. Hard. “Hey!” I shouted.

“Quit your sniveling,” he said.

After binding our wrists, they had us put our backs to the massive tree. Black Bandanna holstered his weapon, and they both wrapped a long rope around all three of us
and
the tree. After three tight loops, we were secured—Sarah in the middle with a Hardy on each side.

“Don’t worry, someone will find you eventually,” Black Bandanna assured us. “We just have to cause a bit more mayhem on the other side of the ranch. Give our friends here plenty of time to clear out.” He held up a finger. “Oh, and in case you do get free, we’ll take your horses. It’s a long walk back to the ranch. Everyone should be gone by then.”

“How much are these poachers paying you?” asked Sarah.

Black Bandanna’s eyes lightened. “A mighty nice finder’s fee, thank you very much.” He tipped his hat and they strode into the woods. They disappeared among the undergrowth.