Breaking Free: A Colorado High Country Crossover Novel by Pamela Clare (well read books .TXT) 📗

Off to one side stood several large outbuildings, including horse barns, a bunkhouse, an enormous riding hall, and several corrals.

Jason followed Jack’s pickup around to the back and parked. “Check that out—a five-car garage.”

Jason climbed out and met Winona at the back of his truck.

Jack walked up to them, hand out. “Welcome to the Cimarron. I’m grateful to both of you for coming up today. What do you say we head inside so you can refresh yourselves after the drive? Then we can talk.”

Jason and Winona followed Jack through a heated garage into a mudroom and then down a hallway into a spacious, modern kitchen, the mingled scents of coffee, cinnamon, and something tangy and savory making Jason’s mouth water.

“Make yourselves comfortable. We’ve got coffee and fresh-baked cinnamon rolls if that tempts you.” He pointed to a large pot. “I’ve got my world-famous chili heating up for lunch.”

Winona glanced over at Jason. “We’ve heard about your chili.”

Jack grinned. “It wouldn’t be world-famous if you hadn’t, now would it?”

Winona sat at the table. “I’d love some coffee and a cinnamon roll. Thank you.”

“Milk or sugar?” Jack asked.

“Milk, please.”

Jason took the seat across from her. “Just coffee for me, thanks—black.”

From upstairs, came the happy sound of children’s laughter.

“Where’s Emily?” Winona filled Jason in. “She’s Jack’s oldest grandchild.”

“She’s at school—second grade now.” Jack handed Winona her coffee first, then poured Jason’s. “My wife, Janet, would love to meet you both, but at the moment, she has her hands full with our grandson and daughter, both in their terrific twos. My daughter-in-law Megan is in court this morning with a client. I’ll tell you what—I never thought I’d welcome a child and a grandchild three weeks apart.”

While they drank their coffee and Winona savored her cinnamon roll, Jack gave them the whole story. “Six weeks ago, we lost a steer. Nate found only its skull, the bones picked almost clean. Other than blood in the grass and a few wolf tracks, there was nothing else—no bones, no hide. Nada.”

“Would a wolf take down something as large as a steer?” Jason had no idea.

Winona dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Yes, but wolves typically stick with wild game and only go for livestock if other prey isn’t around.”

“A month ago, it happened again. No remains apart from the head. There were lots of canine tracks in the area, including a couple of prints the size of my hand.” He held up a callused hand, fingers splayed. “It sure looked like a wolf to me.”

“Have you ruled out disease?” Winona asked. “Lots of prey animals will take advantage of carrion, including wolves.”

Jack nodded. “Our vet checked the herd and found nothing but healthy animals. In all my years running cattle, we’ve lost livestock to cougars, black bears, coyotes, even a bobcat or two. But I’ve never seen a cow’s carcass disappear. Even if the animals got at it, we’d find something.”

Winona picked up her coffee, clearly thinking this through. “Wolves are messy eaters. A pack of wolves will typically tear a kill apart, each wolf dragging its share to a different spot to feed, but they wouldn’t carry the entire animal away. You typically find bits of bone and other parts of the carcass around.”

Jason had never raised cattle, but he’d seen his share of dead animals in the desert. “I’ve seen cougar kills in the wild. There’s not much left, but there’s always something—antlers, hide, bone, viscera.”

“We found another steer killed yesterday morning. It rained the night before, so there are lots of tracks. I had Nate cordon off the area and cover it with a tarp to protect whatever sign is there. We bagged the head and set it aside. I thought maybe there’d be a way to determine what killed the animal.”

“Smart.” Jason drained his coffee mug. “When do we get started?”

Winona glared at him. “When I finish my cinnamon roll.”

Chapter 6

The pasture where the latest steer had been killed was a forty-minute drive on dirt roads through tall glades of aspen and stretches of towering pines. It was some of the most beautiful scenery Winona had seen in Colorado.

“This herd is headed for market in the spring.” Jack parked his truck near a gate. “I expect losses—every rancher does—but I can’t let predators pick off my profits one steer at a time.”

Winona climbed out of the truck. The sun was high in the sky now, but the wind was cold, the air carrying the unmistakable scent of autumn. In the distance, black cattle grazed on the last of the sun-dried summer grass. “It’s beautiful up here.”

The sound of an engine announced Nate’s arrival. He stepped out of his truck looking like the quintessential cowboy, brown hat on his head, denim and plaid on his body, cowboy boots on his feet.

He introduced himself to Jason and then shook Winona’s hand, a grin on his scarred face. “Good to see you again, Winona. I hear you’re an aunt now. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“Son, why don’t you show Chiago where you found the kill? I’ll stay here with Winona while she checks out the remains.”

“Sure thing.” Nate walked to a nearby gate, opened it. “This way.”

“I’ve got the head on ice in a cooler back here.” Jack opened the tailgate and reached for a plastic cooler. “There’s a box of nitrile gloves in the back seat.”

“I already grabbed a pair.” Winona slipped the gloves over her hands. “Just to be clear, I’m not a forensic specialist or an expert in bite marks.”

“No, but you know a hell of a lot about wolves.” Jack drew a plastic garbage bag out of the cooler. “This won’t be the prettiest sight you’ve seen—and it doesn’t smell good, either.”

Winona laughed, her gaze on Jason as he walked away with Nate. What was it about him that drew her like a magnet? “I take care of wild animals. Have you ever smelled skunk poo?”

“No, and I don’t think I want to.” Jack pulled the head out of the cooler, spread a plastic