Page 22 of Tied to Trouble

“He thinks so,” Beverly replied with a giggle.

“Well, I’m not putting up with this macho crap. I’m going to be somewhere else tonight.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere but home,” Mandy vowed fervently.

“A bit of advice for you—don’t run. They don’t like it when you run from them, and it only makes it worse when they finally catch you.” Beverly smiled knowingly.

“I can’t believe you agree to it.”

“There are some super side benefits that we both enjoy.”

Mandy stared at Bev as if she had sprouted horns. “What sort of benefits? I can’t think of a single benefit to getting your butt whacked by ahard-as-a-rockhand.”

“Famous last words,” Beverly replied dryly as she slid out of the cab. “Take my advice and stay put. Get it over with.”

Mandy thought about it as she drove home, but she didn’t intend to follow her friend’s advice. She wasn’t going to sit around waiting for Az to come and punish her like a recalcitrant child. Glumly, she mourned the chance for a nice dinner and maybe some toe-tingling kisses, but she had to stand her ground.

She wasn’t a child—she was a woman—with rights.

Besides, he was flirting with Courtney Beauchamp. “Let him go spank Courtney, Mags,” she huffed to her canine pal.

Mags woofed in agreement.

“Crazy Courtney would probably love it.” She snickered at the thought of Courtney yelling and pleading as she got her comeuppance, but a sliver of jealousy shot through her. Who was she kidding? She suddenly found that she didn’t like Courtney being anywhere near Az.

What was wrong with her anyway? All her feelings were upside down and swirling around in confusion, with one aggravating male at the center. She grumbled into the house with Mags trailing her and wagging her tail in full agreement with everything she said.

***

SHERIFF DORNEY ANDAz stood gazing at the calmer waters of the overflow basin, while men in waders assembled what was left of the cow parts and the barrel that had burst open.

“Nothing big would have gone on downstream, not with the grating in place,” observed the sheriff.

“This is pretty weird, Sheriff. Why would you chop up a cow and put it in a barrel?” Az watched as various gory pieces of a cow were brought to the banks.

“Look at this, Az,” yelled one of the sheriff’s deputies. He brought over a piece of cowhide to show the men. The brand on it was an arch with the letter G in the middle.

It was Gramp’s brand.

“That must be one of the steers we lost last night,” Az said, eyeing it with distaste. Hugh and Aaron told him they’d lost three before he left this morning. And it wasn’t the first time, either.

“Probably,” the deputy replied. “These remains are not rotted at all. It looks like a fresh kill.”

“I’m noticing something here, boys,” the sheriff pointed out, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “There doesn’t appear to be much meat. You’ve brought up some horns, hide, and feet, but no real chunks of meat. Why do you suppose that is?”

“Maybe it’s in another barrel,” suggested the lanky deputy.

“Or maybe someone kept the meat,” Az observed.

Sheriff Dorney nodded. “Or if what Sam Pickering is saying is true, then maybe someone is butchering the cows and trying to blame Genetico Industries by putting the remains in their barrels.”

“But why?” Az asked, his brows wrinkling.

“Any number of reasons.” The sheriff tipped his hat back. “It could be a disgruntled employee wanting to get even. Or it might be someone butchering the cows for food and trying to throw us off the scent. Things to keep in mind at this point.”

Az stared at the hide in his hands. “I guess that could be why the cattle haven’t shown up anywhere. But who would do it? And how? You can’t butcher a cow just anywhere.”

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