When she didn’t receive a response, she gave the door a push and entered. Bunk beds lined the walls, and the room smelled of unwashed bodies mingled with tobacco. She wrinkled her nose. Clearly, Ricardo wasn’t here. She turned to leave and spotted the branding iron by the door. She picked it up and studied it. The Walking Diamond’s brand was two diamonds with stick figure feet on them. She drew the Mesquite’s mountain-peaked M brand in the dust on the floor, then lowered the Walking Diamond’s brand directly on top of it. A perfect fit. Could it be that simple? The Walking Diamond was rebranding the Mesquite’s cattle while claiming they’d lost stock, as well? No wonder they couldn’t find them. Was this the truth that Ricardo had discovered?
Her heart drummed against her ribs, and her breath quickened. Chisholm needed to know. If Se?or Reynolds was in on the rustling, then Chisholm and Whit could be walking into an ambush.
Still holding the branding iron, she hiked up her skirt and ran up the narrow path toward the barn. She considered filling her mother in, but there wasn’t time. She set the branding iron aside, and in minutes, she had Angel saddled.
Taking hold of the bridle, she started to back Angel out of her stall.
“Where are you going, Caro?”
The deep voice made her blood freeze in her veins. She looked up to see Se?or Reynolds in the barn’s doorway. In his hand he held an ebony-handled pocket revolver.
“You know, don’t you?” He looked from her to the branding iron. “I can see it on your face.”
She tried to make her face a blank slate. “What are you talking about, se?or?”
“Don’t toy with me. I see the branding iron. You’ve always been too smart for your own good.” He approached with the handgun and snagged a coil of rope from a hook. “Turn around, hands behind your back. And before you give me trouble, remember: You might be able to run, but your mother is not nearly as spry.”
A heart-pounding, palm-sweating, mind-numbing fear consumed her. She had to protect her mother.
Caro slowly spun and did as he asked. Lord, help me. Her mind raced. She had to find a way out of this and warn Chisholm, but how could she risk her mother’s life? Was this what Chisholm had felt? Torn between two impossible choices?
Once her hands were bound, Se?or Reynolds lifted her by the waist and unceremoniously deposited her on Angel. He took the horse’s bridle and led her out of the barn. “And remember, Caro, don’t try anything.”
He kept the gun trained on her as he mounted his roan.
She flicked a glance over her shoulder, hoping against hope Chisholm would return and save her.
So much for not needing him.
“Looking for the Rangers? I’m afraid they’ll not be serving this great state much longer.”
“And Ricardo?”
“Oh, you’ll see him again.” He gave her a rueful laugh. “I promise.”
With Bullet running at a gallop, Chisholm kept his gaze on the road ahead. A few miles from the ranch house, Whit had suggested he and Chisholm split up. Whit would handle the possible rustling and Chisholm would return to the ranch and look for Ricardo, just in case the man was actually in trouble.
Chisholm used his riding time to go over the rustling case. He tried to envision the tracks he saw on that first day out. He recalled the loose shoe. Loose shoes happened a lot on ranches, but Caro had mentioned that Ricardo had reshod Hank Reynolds’s horse yesterday and today Ricardo was missing. Could be a coincidence. But whoever shot at them that first day knew the route they’d be traveling.
Something wasn’t adding up. They’d watched over the Mesquite’s herd last night, and they’d seen the Walking Diamond’s huge herd on the way home this morning.
Wait.
The Walking Diamond was supposed to have the smaller of the two herds, but that wasn’t what they’d seen this morning. Hank Reynolds had a good hundred head more than Slade McCord. With all of his losses from the rustling, how could that be?
Unless—
He envisioned the brands of the two ranches. How had he missed it? The Walking Diamond’s brand fit perfectly over that of the Mesquite’s.
Chisholm spurred Bullet to a run. Maybe Ricardo knew too much about their operation.
He rode up to the summer kitchen. “Caro!”
Her mother emerged, her face full of anguish. “Oh, se?or. She is not here. When I awoke, I saw her riding off with Se?or Reynolds. Ricardo is gone, too. Do you think he’s hurt? Did the se?or come and get Caro to help?”
Fear spiked in Chisholm’s chest. Even though Caro had promised not to leave the ranch, she would go with the owner if he asked.
Maria wrung the towel in her hands. “I can see the worry in your face. Please tell me what is going on.”
“I don’t have time to explain.” Chisholm fought to control Bullet, who, still full of energy, pranced in a circle, stirring up the dust. “But I’ll find her, ma’am. I give you my word.”
Nearing the barn, he reined in Bullet and dismounted. After wrapping Bullet’s reins around a hitching post, he hurried toward the barn, careful not to disturb any prints. Inside, he immediately noted that Angel was missing. He studied the area. Caro hadn’t been alone inside the barn. He leaned close to examine the prints in the stall. A man’s boot prints left a clear mark in the dirt. Something lying in the straw drew his attention. He brushed the straw away and lifted the Walking Diamond’s branding iron.
Blood drummed in his ears. Had Caro stumbled onto the same truth as he and confronted Hank Reynolds? If so, what would the cornered man do to her?
Chapter Eleven