see. His horse picked his way through the scrub brush with confidence. She knew every inch of his ranch better than he did. The midnight ride was a ritual they’d shared over the years, and lately, he had needed it more and more. Sometimes he needed it to clear his head, sometimes he needed it for entertainment. More often than not, he needed it to escape the demons that seemed to follow him everywhere except out here.
Tonight was one of those nights.
The terrors had been closer to him than ever before in the days following the arrest of Juan Enrique. He didn’t give a tinker’s damn about the drug dealer. But seeing the trail of destruction Enrique had left behind had made him realize something important—there were people he loved, and some of them might die if he didn’t act soon.
If he’d still been in Washington DC, he would have washed away the hollowness with a bottle of Jack and a woman he didn’t know. Waking up in the morning with a hangover, he would have successfully pushed the feelings away, at least temporarily. He was tempted to handle this the same way, but things had changed. He couldn’t permit himself that kind of selfish response now. His goal wouldn’t let him.
They went another hundred yards before the horse stutter-stepped abruptly, almost unseating him. Tightening his thighs and pulling lightly on the reins, he spoke softly, trying to reassure the animal. “Whoa, girl, hang on. What’s the problem?”
The horse answered with an uneasy snort, dancing to the right. He wrapped the leather reins tighter around his fingers and stared intently at the path ahead. Everything looked like it always did. Dried grass, skeletal scrub brush, rocks jutting here and there in the thin light of a fingernail moon. The nighttime sounds that echoed around him were nothing out of the ordinary, either. The scratching of smaller animals running over the gravely dirt, the wind whistling through a cedar tree, the dry ticking of the cicadas here and there—everything seemed peaceful and quiet. But the horse hopped again, this time almost rearing, her disquiet obviously growing.
King had come across a drug courier not too long ago, running through one of the arroyos near the back of the ranch. He’d arrested the man and thrown him in jail but he’d posted bail, then disappeared. It wouldn’t surprise King if he’d returned. Or sent one of his buddies to use the same ravine. Once the mules found a route they liked, they tended to stick with it. They usually gave a blown path a little more time before returning to it, though.
On the other hand, something else—someone else—entirely different could be to blame. If that was the case, he needed to know. It meant he didn’t have as much time left as he thought he did.
The horse tossed her head and snorted. Before she could pitch him off, he brought the animal around and trotted her back the way they’d come. Tying her to a skinny mesquite, he walked back and wondered what was going on. She was a steady mare and he’d had her for years. Something had clearly spooked her.
King only pulled his weapon if he intended to use it. For reasons he didn’t yet understand, something told him that’s what he must do. He eased the pistol from its holster and edged forward, his Glock held in a two-handed grip pointed upward.
He was halfway down the ravine when he heard a low growl. A sudden movement to his left caught his eye, and he swung around quickly, bringing the weapon down. Two coyotes, scrabbling over a scrap of cloth, froze as they saw him. They were only pups, and they’d been at it for a bit. Loose soil was scattered all over the open ground, and broken limbs hung from the nearby bushes.
Some of the larger rocks even looked as though they’d been turned over during the disturbance, the animals’ claws leaving telltale slashes. His eyes went back to the pups. Their muzzles were dark, covered with something wet and sticky. The rag they were pulling apart was wet-looking, too. Noses quivering, they took off running, their loping grace carrying them into the desert night. The smell hit King a moment after that.
He cursed, and swept the arroyo with his eyes, first one way and then the other. Frozen in place, the darkness whispering around him, he waited silently. Nothing else moved or made any noise. Even the cicadas fell