Clay nodded. She's right. Rhett ordered the calf removed and told them to separate every animal that might have drunk from that trough. Then the three of them began searching the ranch. The second trough was clean.
At the third, near the west gate, they found another oily layer floating across the water. The fourth showed nothing. The fifth sat close to the property line. There, the mud around the tank held fresh tracks. They did not belong to any horse from Holt Ranch.
Clay crouched to study them. "Came in from the road," he said. "More than once. Nia looked over the hoof prints. We need to record these before the wind wipes them away.
Rhett turned toward her. Record them for who? For someone who won't automatically take Rafe Crow's word over yours. An inspector, a judge, an investigator, someone with authority. If this turns into a land dispute, suspicion alone won't save you.
Clay Boon studied the hoof prints again. I can testify those tracks didn't come from any horse we own. And I can record exactly what we found, Nia added. Where it was, when we found it, what the water looked like, and how far the tracks sit from the road. Rhett remained silent for a moment.
Then he straightened. First, we get the water running. Then we save the herd. After that, we deal with whoever did this. They were heading back towards the house when a polished carriage appeared on the road.
The driver wore a hat far too clean for a working cattleman. Beside him sat a thin man in a dark coat, a leather portfolio resting across his knees. Rafe Crow stepped down first. His smile looked friendly enough. His eyes did not.
Rhett, he greeted. Looks like things are changing fast around here. The man in the dark coat opened his portfolio. "Grant Lyle," he introduced himself. "I represent Western Range Land Trust.
He removed a carefully folded document. "My clients are prepared to purchase Holt Ranch, including the cattle, structures, and all associated water rights. Rhett did not reach for the paper. It isn't for sale. Grant kept the polished expression of a man accustomed to delivering bad news without staining his cuffs.
The offer is generous considering the drought, your recent losses, and the reduced condition of the herd. From where she stood, Nia caught a glimpse of the figure written across the first page. It was not even half what the property was worth. I found water, Rhett said. For the first time, Rafe's smile faltered.
One little stream doesn't change your position. It isn't little. It's already feeding the eastern pasture. Rhett stepped closer. I also found a dead calf, poison in two watering troughs, and fresh horse tracks coming in from the road.