a burr under their saddle. A homesteader in the middle of their range.”
“No,” Carver said. “Not really. He was on the other side of the creek. He had a few head, The RJ brand. A couple of dozen no real competition. I think the man actually preferred farming to cattle.”
Luke sighed as he tried to understand why the man’s ranch had been stolen. It didn’t make sense.
An hour later as they passed a vast flat section of the range, Carver waved to the west. “The old Johnson ranch is about an hour that way.”
A strong urge to break off and go to Becky’s old home flowed through him but he shook it off. Maybe on the way home. A strange thought, why had he thought home? Before, home had been wherever his sister Hanna and brother Jacob might be located. But now?
Was it because that was where Becky was? A cold feeling of dread washed through him. Thinking that way was just wrong. He wasn’t right for Becky. The war had cut away any tenderness in him. Becky deserved the best.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to push away those thoughts and focused on the trail. They had gone only another ten minutes when he was shocked to see a large red X, maybe six feet tall, painted at the base of a rocky cliff.
“What is that?” he asked Carver, frowning with disbelief.
Carver grunted and shook his head. “One of them railroad surveyors put it there for some ungodly reason. Thought Mr. Felton would bust a gut he was so mad. Says if it don’t fade soon he’s going to hire miners to come cut it out of the rock.”
Luke laughed. The cross looked so out of place in this wild range. It was nice to hear a powerful man didn’t have everything go his way. “Felton don’t own the range. It’s open, right?”
“Don’t tell Mr. Felton that. He don’t look at it that way. We’re the ones who dug them waterholes. Sunk them wells. We move the stock so it don’t get overgrazed. It’s his range.”
Luke ignored the comment. He knew that most ranchers viewed the range as theirs. Even Zion had a possessive urge with the land around their horse ranch.
Frowning he turned to Carver. “They thinking of putting the railroad through here? I thought it’d follow the Humboldt, along the emigrant trail.”
Carver laughed. “What do I know. They don’t exactly share their plans with cowboys.”
The pair fell into a comfortable silence as Luke went over everything he knew about the situation. It was probably foolish marching into the Circle B, especially if they were involved. He wouldn’t be the first man to disappear into the desert and never be heard from again.
“You said that it couldn’t have been Cooper that killed Johnson. But I heard he was there the night the sale was made. One of the men to witness it. He could have followed Johnson. Killed him on the trail.”
Carver shrugged. “I don’t know about that. They say Johnson was killed days later and Cooper was with me up north.”
Luke frowned. How did anyone know when Johnson was killed? Becky was the one to find him and buried him herself. The thought of asking her about it was like a kick to his gut. No way did he want to bring up those memories for her. “So, Cooper was up north with you, and Travers was holed up in a room above the Red House Saloon. Seems everyone had a rock-solid alibi. What about Mark Felton?”
Carver shrugged, “Like I said. I was up north. But he ain’t exactly the business type. If you know what I mean. If I was honest, I couldn’t see him coming up with a plan like this. He’s more the bull in a china shop type.”
Luke sighed as the pair returned to a silent ride. Eventually, a grove of trees and then a ranch house appeared on the horizon. His stomach clenched just the slightest. He was riding into enemy territory with no help in sight. As they rode into the yard he pulled up before the house and looked around.
A barn, corrals with a dozen horses, bunkhouse, and another small outbuilding off to the side. Typical. The house looked big. Made with finished timber and a veranda all the way around.
“I’ll let them know you’re here,” Carver said as he got down from his horse and tied him off to a hitching rail. He had just reached the steps when the