Rawhide Ranger. Rita Herron

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      A TIGHTNESS GRIPPED CABE’S chest as he watched Jessie disappear into the distance.

      She was undeniably the most stubborn, independent, infuriating, spunky, sexy woman he’d ever met.

      Even when she’d been hissing at him like a rattlesnake, his body had hummed to life with arousal. Unfortunately, the fact that she was so devoted to her family and defended her father to no end only stirred his admiration.

      And she could tame a wild horse. Damn he was sure of that. In fact, he’d like to climb in the saddle with her and tangle a time or two.

      He almost hated to take down her father and destroy her image of him. Or cause her any grief.

      But the wind whispered with the scent of death, the murder victims’ faces swam in his mind, the Native spirits screaming for justice.

      He’d do whatever was necessary to ferret out the truth.

      Jonah Becker and his son, Trace, had no scruples—that was the key to their success. Was it the key to Jessie’s rise in the ranching business as well? Was she really going back to work, or running to help her father cover his crimes?

      Remembering the hairs he’d found, the clay sample and the leather pouch, he punched in Lt. Wyatt Colter’s number. Wyatt had been the first Ranger working the case and the lead. “Navarro.”

      Wyatt cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

      Cabe explained about the evidence he’d collected and the attack.

      “If someone forged Billy’s suicide note or forced him to write it, then killed him,” Wyatt said, “they obviously don’t want us still poking around.”

      “Which means that Billy may not have killed the antiquities dealer, the activist, Marcie or Daniel Taabe. So the real killer is still at large and definitely wanted to scare me off.”

      “Maybe it was Jonah Becker or his son,” Wyatt suggested. “We still believe he obtained that land illegally.”

      “Could have been one of them, I guess, but Jessie Becker was with me. She could have been hit as well.”

      “Dammit, this case has been nothing but trouble. Someone’s been tampering with the evidence every step of the way.” A long, tense moment passed. “Keep the scene secure and make sure you follow the chain of custody. When we catch this bastard, we don’t want him to walk.”

      Cabe bit back a sarcastic remark. “I know how to do my job, Lieutenant. I’ll take the evidence to the sheriff’s office and have a Ranger courier pick it up to transport to the lab. But first, I’m going to search for the bullets and casings from the shooter.” A noise in the brush drew his eyes, and he turned to study the woods again, wondering if the killer had returned.

      “I also found a leather pouch with the initials LL on it. Jessie said it belonged to a horse groom named Linda Lantz who worked for her two years ago. Apparently Linda left the ranch about the same time Marcie faked her kidnapping and death.”

      “So she might have been involved?” Wyatt asked.

      “Or she could be a witness. We need to find out if she’s still alive. And if so, where she is now.”

      Wyatt mumbled agreement. “I’ll see what I can dig up on her.”

      Cabe cleared his throat. “One more thing. I discovered another burial spot. I’m sure this one is an old grave, a Native American female, but I’ll need the ME and Dr. Jacobsen for verification.”

      “We should excavate the entire area,” Wyatt suggested.

      “No,” Cabe said emphatically. “These last two bodies suggest that this is definitely a sacred burial ground. We can’t remove bodies or disturb the dead.”

      “But—”

      “I’m telling you we can’t,” Cabe said sharply. “Besides the legal problems, it’s too dangerous, Wyatt. The dead are already incensed over what’s been done to them here. If we start digging up the bodies and moving them, the spirits will be even more angry and dangerous.”

      “You really believe in all this superstition?”

      Cabe chewed the inside of his cheek. He’d hated the traditions, the way some of the Natives on the reservation refused to acclimate with the rest of the modern world. The animosity between the two sects in town and the old prejudices that refused to die.

      But he couldn’t deny some of the things he’d seen and experienced growing up. And again today.

      “Yes,” Cabe said. “And if you think the Native American faction in Comanche Creek is up in arms now, just try to dig up a sacred burial ground.”

      Wyatt sighed. “So what do you suggest we do?”

      “Inform the forensic anthropologist that we have to do everything we can to preserve the burial grounds, any artifacts here, and identify the bones.”

      “Don’t worry. Nina would do that anyway. She’s very protective of her finds.”

      “Good.” Cabe scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m going to call a meeting of the Town Council and the leaders of the Native American faction. A court injunction should stop any more use of the land by the Beckers until the matter is resolved. Hopefully that will soothe ruffled feathers long enough for us to sort things out and find our murderer.”

      “I’ll arrange for Deputy Spears and some floating deputies to guard the land twenty-four seven,” Wyatt said. “Even though Deputy Shane Tolbert was cleared, I don’t want him near our crime scene. His past relationship with Marcie still poses a conflict of interest.”

      “He strikes me as a hothead,” Cabe said.

      “He is,” Wyatt agreed. “What about the Becker family?”

      Cabe shifted and scrubbed dirt from his boots. “I’ll question Jonah and his son and get a warrant for blood samples from both of them. If one of their blood matches the paint from Daniel Taabe’s body, we’ll know who’s to blame.”

      “What about the daughter? Do you think she’s covering for her father?”

      Cabe hesitated. He wanted to believe that Jessie was innocent. But he’d hold off judgment until he fished around some more. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll keep an eye on her.”

      For some reason, the thought of spying on her disturbed him.

      And she’d felt downright sinful when he’d covered her body with his. Of course, she’d shoved at him to get off her. She’d obviously hated him touching her.

      Yep. Jessie Becker was a hands-off case.

      He absolutely couldn’t get involved with her. She and her family were his prime suspects.

      And if she was covering for her father, he’d have to throw the book at her as an accessory.

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