Free Cowboy PI by Jean Barrett Page A

the heifer was stayingwith the herd, Samantha guided her mare over to the side of Roark’s roan. “There’s someone up on that ridge.”
    “I know,” he said. “I’ve been aware of him.”
    “Am I imagining it, or is he deliberately shadowing us?”
    “No, we’re being tracked.”
    “But why? Roark, you don’t suppose he’s our visitor at the ranch last night?”
    “We don’t know there was any visitor. This could be just someone curious about our drive, maybe a rancher worried about where we’re going.”
    “Then why doesn’t he just come down here and ask?”
    “Maybe he’s shy.”
    She thought Roark was being maddeningly complacent about the whole thing. “Aren’t you at all concerned about him?”
    “Yeah, I’m concerned, but it’s public land. He has a right to be up there, and as long as he doesn’t bother us and keeps his distance…”
    She supposed Roark was right. Their rider was too far away to be a threat. Unless, that is, he was armed with a high-powered rifle. Damn, she would go and think that. On the other hand, if he wanted to pick one of them off—and remembering all that had happened, she guessed that would be her—he could have done it long ago without his presence ever being detected. Just the same, Samantha wasn’t happy with the idea of being a potential target.
    “Do you think we should tell the others?”
    “I imagine they already know.”
    “So we do nothing about him?”
    “We stay vigilant, Samantha. That’s what we do. And I don’t want you out of my sight. That includes no more chasing alone after Irma. If the heifer wanders off somewhere, you call me to help. Otherwise,” he said, looking out over the herd as if the longhorns were his only real interest, “it’s business as usual.”
    But Roark proved to be less cavalier about their mysteryrider than Samantha had assumed. She was with him when he spoke to the trail boss during the coffee break a short time later.
    “Shep, I suppose you’ve noticed we have company on the ridge.”
    “Oh, him. Is he still up there?”
    “Last time I looked.”
    “He’s not a problem, is he?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Well, then…”
    Samantha could see that the trail boss had his mind strictly on the cattle drive and not on some harmless rider who was keeping his distance. Nor were the others in the outfit interested in anything but swapping stories about their morning’s experiences with the longhorns as they stood around gulping coffee from their mugs.
    Samantha went over to the cook wagon where Ramona Chacon was dispensing coffee and doughnuts. Was she the exception in the company? The Walking W’s plump, olive-skinned housekeeper did not seem to be her perpetually cheerful self. She looked sober, preoccupied.
    “You’re so quiet, Ramona. You’re not bothered by that man on the ridge, are you?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Haven’t you noticed him? He’s been following the drive.”
    “I didn’t see anyone. How could I? I’ve been ahead of you with the truck, remember? You ready for a refill?”
    Ramona didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Or, for that matter, anything, which was odd. She was ordinarily so garrulous that Samantha had to snatch at excuses to get away from her.
    Nor was the cook any more forthcoming at midday when they caught up with her again where she had lunch waiting for them in the form of burritos and black beans. By now the rider on the ridge had become the cattle drive’s faithful follower, though he never came within shoutingdistance of them and most of the time remained either out of sight among the trees or no more than an unrecognizable silhouette.
    Who is he? Samantha wondered. Why is he watching us?
    He continued to haunt them that afternoon as the drive pushed on through the valley. And then, to Samantha’s relief, he disappeared. She kept eyeing the ridge, thinking he would reappear as he had before. But when an hour passed and there was no further sign of him, she