They were walking out of the restaurant when they saw Mr. Smith drive by in an older-model Mustang. Clean and road-safe, but not exactly showroom worthy.
Chris chuckled. “As stingy as he was with that little waitress, I would’ve expected him to drive an old beat-up Ford Falcon or something. Did you get a load of all those keys? That was weird looking.”
“I know. Someone with that many keys is bound to have plenty of secrets.”
Chapter Three
Julián and Chris rode on horseback over the rolling hills of the Cook Ranch, checking on the livestock and the fences, watchful for any sections in need of repair. He removed his phone from his pocket when it rang, and caught Chris’s concerned gaze. After glancing at the screen, he said, “It’s Teresa,” and answered, “Hello?” Hope kindled in his heart that Teresa had finally heard from Gwen.
“Hi, it’s me again. Have you heard from her?” The worry in Teresa’s tone added to his own. They’d been trying to reach Gwen for three days. She’d continued with her Facebook updates and landscape photos, as she’d eventually made her way south, toward Texas. Her last post had been the night before, in Big Bend National Park, near the Texas and Mexico border. Desolate territory for a woman on her own. The knowledge that Gwen probably knew that area as well as the back of her hand didn’t ease his worry at all.
“No, I haven’t heard from her. Has she posted?” He’d tried calling her several times but the calls always went to voice mail. He hated feeling powerless. Gwen had become incredibly self-sufficient over the years out of necessity, but that didn’t change the fact that he wanted to fix whatever was wrong for her. He knew that probably wouldn’t go over very well with her. He was starting to not care if it pissed her off or not.
“Yes. Halfway between Fort Stockton and Junction, in Ozona. Do you think she’s coming here?”
From Big Bend back up into West Texas in an easterly direction. “I hope to hell so. I wonder what happened.”
“I tried calling her dad at home but there was no answer. I don’t know his cell phone number. If she doesn’t answer her phone soon, I’m calling Hank. This is so out of character for her, not to be in touch. I think something bad must’ve happened. It’s Christmas Eve. She shouldn’t be on the road all by herself, just taking pictures and posting them on Facebook, and not talking to anybody.”
“Tell you what. How about I take a drive out west on Interstate 10 and just see if I spot her. There are those rest stops at Sonora.”
“Would you, Julián? I would, but—”
“No. Nope. Let me do it.”
“If you find her, bring her here, Julián. I don’t care if you have to rope her ass and drag her to the ranch. Something’s happened and we need to get to the bottom of it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Julián said with a smile. Teresa was the definition of sweet and demure, but she was protective as a mama bear when it came to her friends and her family.
When he’d ended the call, Chris asked, “Still no word from Gwen?”
“Nothing. The only reason we even know what direction she’s heading is because she has her GPS connected to her Facebook. Every time she posts a picture, a location comes up with it. Crested Butte. Florissant Fossil Beds. Great Sand Dunes National Monument. Rio Grande Gorge and White Sands in New Mexico. Carlsbad Caverns and then over the Texas border to Big Bend. She’s covered a shitload of miles.”
“Lots of…sand.”
“Some pretty desolate terrain. Her last stop was in Ozona, Teresa said.”
“Not that far. Want me to come along?”
“Nah. I know you needed to run into town. I’ll be home later this evening, hopefully with her in tow.” He suddenly had an image of her broken down on the side of the road and regretted his word choice.
Chris nodded. “I have a feeling you’re gonna find her. It’s the not knowing that’s driving you crazy.”
“You’re right.”
They both urged their horses into a trot and headed back to the barn near the house on the Cook Ranch where they lived. Julián climbed into his black Ford F-250, waved as Chris got into his red Dodge Ram, and followed his friend down the driveway. Chris took a left to drive to Divine, and he took a right to head out toward the interstate. She should be fairly easy to spot in her fancy fire-engine red dually. If she was traveling with Zephyr, she’d be even easier to spot, with that luxury horse trailer hitched to her truck.
* * * *
Chris hummed along with Gary Allan as he sang “Right Where I Need To Be” on the radio while turning into the drive-thru at Divine Drip. He had a hankering for a snack, and one of Cassie’s kolaches and a fresh cup of coffee would do the trick. He eased past the decrepit truck and horse trailer that were double-parked in the parking lot and shook his head. It looked like moving day for someone, since the horse trailer was filled to the roof with plastic bags, boxes, and drop cloth-covered furniture.