He was still laughing as he headed for his own mount, investigating the feelings of the last half hour. Even if what Mark had said about Ty was true, Zane didn’t care. That in itself was kind of scary.
“Come on, Elmer. Let’s go find a glue factory,” Ty said to his horse, who tossed its head and snorted as if in argument. “Uh-huh, you know why? Opposable thumbs, bitch!”
“Man’s crazy,” Zane’s uncle said to Harrison.
Zane grinned.
Harrison nodded and they watched Ty argue with the horse. “Seems to work for him.”
“That’s why I’m up here, and you’re the one wearing the saddle,” Ty told his horse as they headed off.
When they reached the pump house, Ty dismounted with a grateful groan, then cursed the animal up and down. The guys surrounding him cackled as they swung down with no problems.
Zane was still chuckling as he joined Ty, though they were both moving stiffly. Zane put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. Ty was still getting used to being able to do it without fear of being seen.
The pump house was simply an old adobe and wood shack, patched and patched again over the years, there to mark the ancient spring well and to show tour groups that came through.
Harrison took them through the events of the morning he’d been shot. It had been just past dawn and he’d been riding, as he said, to check the problem area at the problem time.
He’d seen a vehicle parked beside the pump house and gone closer to investigate. They weren’t far from a main road, and since he suspected most of the trespassing was just kids messing around, he’d assumed someone had been off-roading and gotten stuck, broken down, or possibly even hit the old building and been hurt.
When he’d gotten closer, however, he’d seen that the truck was idling, a large tarp covering the back roll bars. And then the driver had fired at him.
He’d been lucky to get away with just the one bullet hole in him, and he’d lashed himself to his saddle before passing out from loss of blood. The horse had carried him home.
Ty was unspeakably impressed with Zane’s father. Now he knew where Zane got it from.
By the time anyone had come back out here, whoever had done it was long gone. The place had since been trampled with police vehicles, horses, and footprints. Ty surveyed the scene, shaking his head. It was daunting. Now he really wished Zane hadn’t bragged about his tracking skills.
“What do you think?” Zane asked, voice low. “Think you can unearth anything?”
“I don’t know, Zane. I mean . . . it’s been baking in the sun for two weeks. The scene’s been disturbed by all kinds of things. I’m not sure I could recreate what happened, even knowing how it went down from your dad’s statement.”
Zane caught his hand and ducked his head so Ty would meet his eyes. “Will you try? Please.”
Ty stared at him, held captive. Zane so rarely busted out the cartoon bunny eyes, it worked on Ty every time he did it. Damn him.
“Of course, Zane,” he whispered. He squeezed Zane’s hand. “Just . . . don’t get your hopes up, okay?”
Zane nodded, looking pleased as he let go of Ty’s hand.
Ty huffed at him. He headed for the pump house first, taking his time as the sun beat down on his shoulders and waves of heat shimmered in the distance. He shed his shirt, leaving the paper-thin Henley underneath to protect him from the sun.
It took him nearly half an hour to traverse the entire scene. He was aware of the others getting restless, spreading out, finding shade, grumbling, napping. He pushed all that away, trying to focus on the tidbits of evidence he could find in the sand and shrubs.
Finally, the others lost patience with him.
“What’s the news, Grady?” Joe called out.
Ty winced and wiped at the back of his neck with the buff he wore. “A car was parked here, by the pump house. It had been here for a few hours.” He bent with a plastic bag in his hand and picked up a husk of a cigarette with it. There were several nearby, telling the tale of someone waiting there. “It was a four-wheel drive vehicle, a truck or possibly an SUV.”
“Yeah, thanks Sherlock, we know that from what Harry said,” Ronnie grumbled.
Ty nodded, unperturbed. “There were three men, and after they parked, two headed that way, toward the perimeter fence.” He pointed toward the large, artfully camouflaged fence that abutted the Carter Garrett Ranch and the Roaring Springs Sanctuary.
Everyone in the group squinted off into the distance. The fence was about two miles away, across rolling hills and deceptive flats. No wonder the shooters had parked so far away if their goal was the sanctuary; the land wasn’t passable by vehicle from here.
“When they returned, there were five of them. That’s six perps total. They were carrying something heavy, and they made two trips.”
“How do you know that?” Annie asked, sounding impressed.
“Their footprints are deeper on the return,” Ty answered. He held up a different plastic bag that contained a shell he’d found in the rubble next to the adobe pump house. “They scrambled when they saw Harrison, fired from a .44. You’re lucky, sir, that they had rifles and not small arms.”
“Impressive,” Harrison said with a nod.
Ty turned where he stood and cocked his head at the fence in the distance. “That’s a long-ass way to drag a drugged tiger.”
Zane came up to stand beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. It was basically a “good boy” pat on the head. Ty bit his lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.
“Maybe they thought there was security?” Zane suggested. “They parked next to the only structure in the area, on the side that would hide them from the preserve.”
“Everything points to an inside job, so they wouldn’t be worried about security. They parked here because they couldn’t get their truck any closer.”
“And they returned with more men than they went in with? You’re sure?”
“I’m betting someone went in through the front, bypassed the security, nabbed a key since none of them were missing, and just waltzed on out.”
“I’d hate to carry a tiger in a cage over two miles across this terrain,” Zane said.
“I’d hate to carry a tiger at all.”
Zane hummed and narrowed his eyes, then glanced around at the others. Harrison was scratching his head. “Dad, is it possible what you saw under those tarps was animal cages?”