No wonder the guy was looking for buyers who lived out of the area. Landon positioned himself on the other side of the man to make sure he didn’t bolt. “I’ll need to check those brands.”
Jake—if that was his real name—glanced between Landon and Samantha, and his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. He shook his head and spit on the ground. “I don’t need to prove nothing to you. I got better things to do than stand here while you accuse me of stealing.”
No, he didn’t. As the man turned to slink off toward his truck, Landon stepped in his way. “Actually that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Stand there and give me the keys to your trailer.” In the Old West, folks used to hang cattle rustlers. Landon didn’t think that was an overreaction. “Keys,” he said, hand out.
The man scowled and lifted his scraggly chin in defiance. “I ain’t giving you nothing.”
Landon took a step closer. He could pick up the dude and shake the keys out of his pockets. “If you don’t want to talk to me, I’ll call the police and let you deal with them.”
Jake’s bravado instantly vanished. He held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Look, I got these from a guy who told me he was liquidating his ranch. Ifthey’re stolen, I didn’t know nothing about it. I’m just here trying to make a living same as everyone else.”
Doubtful. Nobody else was out in the parking lot sellingcontraband cows like they were imitation Rolexes. “Are you going to open the back?” Landon reached for his cell phone.
Jake swore, took the keys from his pocket, and marched to the trailer door. “I’ll let you take a look. No need to call anyone.” He opened the door and moved aside to allow entrance.
The six cows did their best to back up and get away from him. One mooed in distress.
“Easy,” Landon told them. They had no ear tags, but those were easy enough to remove. That was why ranches still had to use brands. He went to the closest animal and angled himself to look at her right flank. Rustlers sometimes added new marks to a brand in an attempt to hide it, but he would still be able to recognize the angular lines of the Wyle Away’s W with a line through the bottom to form an A.
Instead, he saw the letters CG. A brand nearly as familiar with as his own. Coyote Glen. Not even doctored. That’s why Jake had taken to making parking lot deals at cut rate prices. He wouldn’t be able to move them through an auction site or to a reputable company.
“Landon!” Samantha called. Something was going down outside.
In three strides, Landon had crossed the length of the trailer, his boots clanking against the floor so loudly he couldn’t hear anything else.He jumped down, slammed the door shut, and rounded the corner in time to see Samantha pulling herself off the ground. Jake was darting across the parking lot. The guy had decided to abandon his trailer along with the cattle and make a run for it.
Landon took off after him. Jake had a head start and he was fast, pumping the air for all he was worth, but Landon wasn’t about to let him get away. Not after he’d stolen Kitty’s cattle. The guy was going down.
Jake darted between two trucks and disappeared from view. Landon followed. He glanced left and then right. Nothing. He’d lost the man.
Samantha’s voice came from a few feet behind him. “To your left! He went under the truck!”
Landon turned and sprinted that way. Yep, Jake had doubled back and was weaving through the next row. Nice trick. This obviously wasn’t the first time the guy had to lose someone in a chase.
Jake glanced over his shoulder, saw Landon closing the distance, and cut through another row. Up ahead, a weathered silver Ford truck sputtered on and coughed out exhaust. Jake tore toward it.
An accomplice. Since the truck was facing the other direction, all Landon could see of the driver was his blue baseball cap. No license plate. If Jake reached the Ford, he’d be gone.
The truck revved its engine, telling Jake to hurry. If Landon tried to tackle Jake and missed, he’d have nothing to break his plunge to the parking lot. But if he didn’t try, he’d always regret it. Kitty deserved some justice.
Time to revive the old high school football moves. Landon put on an extra burst of speed and launched himself at Jake. He caught hold of the man’s arms and pulled him down. Even with the guy to cushion the fall, the asphalt still slammed into Landon. His knuckles scraped against the ground and his knee stung.
Jake struggled to break free, elbows jabbing wildly. Landon held him tight. The truck didn’t wait to see how the wrestling match ended. It sped off, nearly screeching as it tore out of parking lot. Landon was too busy keeping Jake pinned to the ground to attempt another look at the driver.
Samantha ran up, breathless, her cell phone out. “The police are on their way.”
Good. They could take over.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Landon said. “But I just realized all my football memories lied to me.”
Jake finally stopped struggling. He either realized his chances of escape weren’t good or he was tired. He lay there, face pressed to the asphalt, cursing and threatening to sue Landon for assault. After a solid minute of that, he took a deep breath and tried a different tactic. “You let me go now, and I won’t press no assault charges. Otherwise, you’re gonna talk to my lawyer.”
“You’ve got my girlfriend’s cattle,” Landon said calmly. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Coyote Glen’s brand?” Samantha asked.
“Yep.”