Page 159

His ears went up.

Jodie pointed at the shade beneath the table. “There. Stay.”

Goblin tilted his head and continued watching her. She gave up and headed for Willow’s truck. By the time she opened the driver’s door, she heard claws scrabbling against metal behind her. She turned.

Goblin stood in the bed.

Of course.

For a moment, she looked across staging for the white Ram. The place where Mac had parked it was empty. She knew that. He was at Hank’s. Exactly where he was supposed to be.

Still, the empty space caught at her.

Jodie climbed into Willow’s truck and started the engine.

The two-track narrowed as soon as she left the main access road, bouncing Willow’s truck over ruts hardened by weeks without rain. Goblin rode in the bed with his front paws braced against the wheel well, ears flapping every time the wind caught them. Jodie kept one eye on the road and one on the smoke pushing across the Basin ahead of her.

Ash was coming down with it.

Not much. Little gray flecks that skittered across the windshield and vanished against the hood. That bothered her more than the smoke had. Granted, ash could travel for miles just like smoke, but it was a new development.

How close is that fire?

She keyed the radio again. “Virgil, Jodie. You copy?”

Nothing.

“Okay. Fine. Be difficult.”

Goblin’s ears appeared briefly in the rearview mirror.

“Not you.”

The road dipped into a shallow draw and climbed again. On the other side, the remains of an old homestead sat back from the track. All that was left was a tall stone chimney and fireplace, part of one wall, and a sickly lilac marking where somebody had once tried to make a yard. Beyond it was a low square of stone sunk into the earth, with the remains of a roof sagging across one side.

A cellar, probably.

Jodie wondered if Virgil’s people had built the little cabin and lived in it until they had the money to build a bigger house on the property.

The track continued past the ruins and bent west along the property line. A few minutes later, she saw Hank’s cattle coming through the fence. She took her foot off the gas. The opening Virgil had cut was wider than she expected. Wire from Hank’s fence had been peeled back and secured out of the way, then Virgil’s woven fence opened beyond it, leaving a rough lane between the two properties.

A black steer stepped through, ash dusting his back. Another followed close behind. Beyond them, more cattle crowded the opening, working their way onto Virgil’s ground one and two at a time, then spreading out but following other cattle in a line that snaked over a rise.

Jodie stopped the truck. For a moment, she just watched.

All that bad blood between two neighbors resolved by an opening in a couple of fences.

Hank had spent years bitching about Virgil. Virgil had apparently spent just as many years returning the favor. They had separate fences because their families couldn’t even agree to share.

And Virgil had cut through both of them.

She thought of the saltbush he’d told her about and the sheep he’d built his entire operation around. A hundred cattle could do a hell of a lot of irreparable harm to his land. Virgil knew that better than she did.

One of the steers lifted its head toward the truck, then went back to following the others.

Jodie smiled despite the tightness in her chest.

Good man.