Hunter Moon. Jenna Kernan

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СКАЧАТЬ Donner.

      “There were four more, but I shooed them back into their pasture. Mr. Donner, those fences on the upper pasture were cut.”

      Donner lowered the clipboard. “What do you mean cut?”

      “I mean with a wire cutter. Someone came in from the road, parked, cut the fences and left.”

      “What about the lower pasture?”

      “I didn’t see anything, but I was pretty busy rounding up cattle.”

      “Well, heck. We got to call your brother about that.”

      “Didn’t he call you?” Had Gabe forgotten to alert his boss?

      “Yup. Said you’d been delayed.”

      Clay realized Donner didn’t know about what happened with Izzie and the shooters. It took several minutes to relate the story, and his boss’s mouth hung open for most of it. Clay didn’t think he’d ever talked so much in his life. Except that day in court. When he finished, his shoulders sagged.

      “Well, a heck of a day.” Donner sat back and scratched his head, sending one of his long graying braids wiggling. “I’ll call Pizzaro and Bustros. Update them and have them take a look at the fences and the cattle.”

      Victor Bustros was not technically on the general livestock board, but worked under Pizarro, the livestock coordinator. Bustros’s title was livestock brand inspector. Because of the record keeping of individual brands, Bustros had a clerk who helped him keep up with the paperwork. Bustros’s job also including overseeing the weekly cattle auctions.

      Cattle were still the tribe’s main source of income, though tourism was catching up. These four men—Bustros, Pizzaro, Soto and his boss, Donner—held positions of importance in this enterprise overseeing the care, business and health of the tribe’s holdings. Clay felt lucky to work with them. Now Clay hoped that his actions today had not jeopardized that.

      “Sir, would you like me to have a look at Nosie’s lower pasture?”

      “Leave that to your brothers. If what you say is true, that might be a crime scene.”

      If it were true? Clay felt his face heat. Even after six-and-a-half spotless years of work, his boss did not take his word at face value.

      If the impounded stock hadn’t belonged to Izzie, then Clay would have let it go. But instead, he opened his mouth again.

      “Sir, I could...”

      Donner’s gaze snapped to his, and he gave a slow shake of his head. It was a gesture Clay recognized as a warning. Clay closed his mouth.

      “You’ve done enough.”

      Clay accepted the long, hard look Donner gave him.

      “Finish your paperwork before you leave.”

      Knowing he’d been dismissed, Clay returned to his desk in the outer office to wake up his ancient computer. An hour later he had his hat back on his head and was leaving for the day.

      Clyne and Gabe, his older brothers, still lived in their grandmother Glendora’s place. But he and Kino had a small house outside of Black River, one of four towns on the reservation and the one that housed the tribal headquarters. Since Kino and Lea Altaha would like their own place, Clay planned to move back to his grandmother’s while they waited for placement. It could take over a year for the newlyweds to get their house through the tribe’s housing organization, and Clay recognized that they needed privacy.

      Clay climbed into his own truck, which was older, smaller and dustier than the one he used for tribe business. He drove by his grandmother’s house, knowing he was always welcome for dinner. But the prospect of telling his story one more time did not appeal, and so he skipped the chance at the best fry bread in Black Mountain in favor of frozen pizza and privacy. Since Kino would be out, there might still be one last beer in the frig.

      When he pulled in the driveway, he realized he wasn’t getting that pizza or that beer or any peace, because Izzie Nosie stood, leaning against her pickup with her arms folded beneath her beautiful bosom. She looked ready for battle.

      She lifted her chin as he stepped out of his truck. Was it only a few hours ago that she had clung to him while they raced together across the wide stretch of open pasture?

      “Izzie, what are you doing here?”

      “I want to know who let my cows out.”

      “I’ll bet.”

      “You are the best tracker on this reservation. So I want to hire you, Cosen.”

      Clay could only imagine how hard it was for her to ask the likes of him for help.

      “You might be better to ask Kino or Gabe. They’re the investigators.”

      “And they are investigating. But I want someone who is looking out for my interests. That’s you.”

      “That’s a conflict of interest, Izzie. Or did you forget that I work for the livestock manager?”

      Her eyebrows rose. “Still?”

      That stung. “You think he fired me? For what, doing my job?”

      She held on to her scowl, but her cheeks flushed a becoming rose. Then she pressed a finger into his chest. “You should have told me that my cows were on the highway, Cosen.”

      “They pay me to collect them. Not to contact the owners.”

      “Do you know how much it will cost me to get them out?” She ticked off the amounts on her fingers. “Gathering fee, five dollars a head. That’s two-hundred and sixty dollars, and that’s only if I can sell some cows and get that money to them in twenty-four hours, which I can’t. Then it’s two dollars a day per cow for every day you have them. That’s a hundred and four dollars more.”

      “Izzie, your strays were scattered all over the highway.”

      “Cosen, my fences are good. I need you to help me prove that, so I can appeal.”

      He leaned against his truck, trying to think, but his eyes kept dipping to her lovely face and those soft lips. Izzie’s hair was dark brown, and she often wore it pulled back to reveal her small, perfectly shaped ears and long, slender neck. She knew he liked her hair loose; it was loose now and had been recently combed. She wore pink lip gloss that made her full mouth look ripe and tempting.

      Clay frowned.

      She lifted her pointed chin, and her fine brows rose. She rested a hand on his chest. His heartbeat accelerated and his skin tingled. He had to force himself not to reach out and gather her in his arms.

      He stared down at her hand, fingers splayed across his chest, the left ring finger still somehow bare. Then he followed the slim line of her arm to her narrow shoulders. Her soft hair brushed her collarbone, and she wore no jewelry except the gold crucifix about her neck, the one her father had given her at her first communion. Her face was heart-shaped and her upper lip more full than the bottom, giving the impression that she was forever freshly kissed. Her skin was soft brown, and her СКАЧАТЬ