The Danger Within Read online

  “I know.” Layla, too, stood and began to walk back and forth. “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll go over the results of the lab tests on the first batch you lost.” She paused. “I take it you’ve already buried the latest casualties.”

  “No. The ground was frozen too hard. I had Hector push the remains into a pile and burn them. It was all I could do, under the circumstances.”

  “So we won’t be getting samples there,” Layla said. “Are any other animals showing signs of illness?”

  “Not yet.” He removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m at the end of my rope, Doc. I could lose everything and never know what hit me.”

  “That’s not an option,” Layla said firmly. “We’ll find an answer.” Forgetting herself, she hesitated by his side and laid her hand gently on his forearm. “I promise.”

  Not until Michael’s gaze met hers did she realize how poignant, how personal, the moment had become.

  Quickly pulling away, Layla stepped back and busied herself by brushing bits of straw off her long skirt. She could still feel a tingle on her fingertips where she’d touched him, even though he was wearing a jacket. Her cheeks warmed. She averted her face to hide the telling reaction.

  “You’re not going to the authorities?” he asked.

  Surprised, Layla looked up at him. “I’d report this in a minute if I thought there was a danger to other ranches. Right off, I can’t think of a single germ that would cause the symptoms you’ve described. I hate to say this, Mr. Vance, but I suspect your stock may have been poisoned.”

  “That’s impossible!”

  “Have you got a better idea?”

  He shook his head. “No. Tell me what to do next and I’ll do it.”

  “I’ll want to take clean samples of all the feed and hay.” Glancing at the stall where Winona was starting to settle down with her calf, Layla felt her heart speed. “And don’t add anything new to any pens till we’ve had it checked. Your stock is better off hungry than dead.”

  “My men are scrupulously careful. We use very little pesticide. And when we do, we make sure no livestock is in the vicinity.”

  “What if this was done on purpose? Is that possible?”

  Michael nodded soberly. “Unfortunately, yes. My old foreman disappeared about the time my losses began. At first, I thought maybe Ben had fallen off the wagon and was on a drinking binge or doing drugs again. When he didn’t come back, I started to wonder if he’d been responsible for the deaths. The only problem is, he didn’t have a motive.”

  “He wasn’t upset with you?”

  “He sure shouldn’t have been. I gave him a chance when a lot of ranchers wouldn’t even talk to him. He was a good worker. I was positive he was going to stay clean and sober this time.”

  Pensive, Layla fiddled with one of her many earrings. She always thought more clearly when she was fingering her jewelry. Her mother had often joked that she’d be mute if she didn’t wear all that silver to spur her ideas.

  “Could he sneak back onto the Double V without someone spotting him?”

  “I suppose so. It’s a big place.” Michael scowled. “Do you really think that’s what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Layla answered. “Show me the place where the last cattle died. I want to see it for myself.”

  The empty cattle pen was as barren and bleak as the winter hills. A dusting of snow covered the ground. Layla opened the gate and walked in, her feet crunching through the thin crust of ice that had formed from partially melted snow when the temperature had dropped.

  “They were all right here?” she asked Michael.

  “Yes. Both times we’d brought in a small group. When Norberto checked the following morning, they were already acting sick.”

  “Only them? None of the others they had been with before you cut them out?”

  “Not that I’ve seen. My herd is pretty big. We drive them down to this lower elevation in the winter and keep them in pastures so we can supplement their feed. The weather is too harsh on the open range.”

  “I’ll want to check every animal on the ranch, including the horses. If you have any more range cattle penned up I’ll start with them.”

  “Norberto put a few head over by his place so he could keep a better eye on them, maybe catch on to what was wrong.”

  “Then that’s where I want to start,” Layla said.

  “The Cortez family has their own place on Double V land. It’s not far. I’ll drive you.”

  “Okay. Shut the dogs in the barn with Winona and Wilbur to keep them from following and let’s go.”

  A truly pitiful sight greeted Layla and Michael when they pulled up next to the portable rail enclosure behind Norberto’s modest home. Three steers were standing, heads down, sides heaving. A fourth lay crumpled in the snow, barely breathing.

  Layla wasn’t surprised to hear Michael curse under his breath. Death was clearly stalking these poor animals, too.

  She climbed down from the truck and walked to the railing. When Michael joined her she said, “I’ll get my medical bag. I’m afraid I can’t offer much hope, though. Looks like the best we can do is make them a little more comfortable.”

  Layla eased the gate open and approached the suffering steers while speaking softly. “I’m so sorry, boys. I wish you could tell me what’s wrong so I could help you.”

  She circled the bunched animals, assessing their condition before proceeding. They were dehydrated, yet from the looks of the pen, none of them had relieved themselves since the snowfall.

  Hay lay in a jumbled, trampled pile at one end of the pen. Beside the water trough was a smaller, round pan that looked as if it had recently contained grain.

  In their distress, the steers had apparently knocked the defroster out of their water and the trough had iced over. Layla punched through the thin layer in the hopes they might drink if they had the opportunity. None of them moved.

  Cold puckered her wet fingers and made her wish she’d used a tool to break the ice instead of her fist. She stared at her patients. “What is it, Lord?” she prayed softly. “What’s wrong? Help me see? Please?”

  No voice of wisdom boomed from Heaven. Layla sighed. She’d prayed for animals and doctored them ever since she was a child. This time, however, she was totally stumped.

  Chilled to the bone, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her down-filled vest and shivered. Everything was frozen. Icicles hung from the fence rails. The backs of the steers had collected snow, melted it with body heat and formed their own private icy torture. Even if she and Michael could coax them to walk to the barn, which she doubted in view of their present weakened condition, it wouldn’t be a good idea. Winona and Wilbur were still healthy and happy. She couldn’t take a chance of spreading possible contamination. Neither could Michael.

  He broke into her thoughts to ask, “Shall we put them down? I hate to see them suffer.”

  Layla looked away, unwilling to admit defeat. There must be something. Some clue. Some…Her brow furrowed. The empty feed pan looked as if it had liquid in the bottom. Given the air temperature, that was impossible. Her glance darted from the pan to Michael Vance, then back to the pan.

  “Where do you get these?” she asked, pointing.

  “The feed tubs? They’re not new, if that’s what you mean.”

  Layla was bending over and feeling the bottom of the six-inch-deep pan. The wet substance was definitely not water. It was slippery, almost slimy. She held up her fingers and noted a greenish tinge.

  “Do your men ever use them for anything else?”

  “Like what?” Michael joined her.

  “Like changing the antifreeze in your machinery.” She showed him her fingers. “That’s sure what this stuff looks like. And it would explain a lot. Ethylene glycol can be deadly. Dogs are usually the ones who are accidentally poisoned.”

  “You think that’s what’s wrong with my cattle?”

  “There’s a real good chance.
I’ll have to have this stuff tested but I think we have our poison. What we don’t have is the answer to how it got here. Could your missing foreman have been careless enough to use these tubs to drain radiators into?”

  Michael was shaking his head. “I don’t know. If he did, why didn’t Doc Pritchard notice?”

  “Maybe because it wasn’t this cold then. I only saw it because it wasn’t frozen solid like everything else.” She looked with pity on the suffering cattle. “There is no antidote at this stage. Once they begin to metabolize the toxins in their liver, their kidneys fail. It’s always fatal. That’s why people who care about the environment are trying to get manufacturers to change over to propylene glycol. It’s a lot less lethal.”

  Chagrined, Michael nodded. “Okay. Go on back to the barn. I’ll take care of things here.”

  Once again moved by his kindheartedness, she gently touched his shoulder with her clean hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  “At least we have some idea what’s been happening and we can put a stop to it,” he said. “Don’t be sorry for that. I owe you plenty.”

  Layla reached for the empty feed pan and lifted it by its rolled rim. “I’ll take this with me so nothing else gets into it. The stuff is sweet to the taste. That’s why dogs lick it up if it’s spilled on the ground.”

  “I know.” Michael sighed. “I’d just never dreamed it would show up in my feed. How much does it take to kill an animal?”

  “I don’t know about cattle,” she answered. “Three to four tablespoons of it will kill a big dog.”

  “How about diluted? It must have been thinned if Ben used some of these pans to drain out the old antifreeze and put in new for winter.”

  “Maybe the water evaporated,” Layla said. “I’d have to do a little research to tell for sure.” She paused by the side of his truck. “You sure you’re going to be okay? I can stay and help if you want?”

  “No. Go on. Take the truck. Norberto keeps a rifle in his barn. I’ll walk home when I’m done.”

  Though she saw unshed tears glistening in his eyes, she respected his courage, got behind the wheel of his black truck and drove slowly away.

  Half an hour later, Layla had scraped samples of the greenish residue into specimen bottles and labeled them. Stepping out onto the back porch to see if Michael had returned, she noticed a cloud of black smoke rising from the direction of the latest catastrophe. Michael was sterilizing the pen. Her heart went out to him. Ranching was hard on a person who cared about livestock the way he obviously did.

  She sighed. The contaminated feed pan would have to be stored someplace where it wouldn’t be accidentally put back into service and could be preserved as evidence in case a crime had actually been committed. Right now, it was relatively safe lying in the bed of his truck but she’d feel much better once it was totally secured.

  Pensive and sad, Layla approached the ranch truck. She blinked. Gaped. Wait a minute! She’d left that tub right there. She knew she had. To do otherwise would have been unforgivably careless.

  She stuck her hand into the truck’s bed and felt around just to be sure she wasn’t overlooking the round, shallow tub because it was also black. There was nothing there. Not even a hint that the contaminated feeder had ever existed.

  Eyes wide, she scanned the empty yard. Her breath caught. Surely Michael’s dogs hadn’t carried it off!

  Air whistled out of her lungs in relief moments later. The barn was still closed with King and Molly inside, and Smokey was snoozing in her cabin. Whatever had happened to the pan, it wasn’t hurting the dogs. Not yet. But it was crucial to their future safety that she locate it.

  An acrid odor drifted to her. Layla wrinkled her nose, shaded her eyes and studied the distant fire. Her initial assumption was that the odor was coming from Michael’s cleanup work. Now, she questioned that conclusion. Smoke from the Cortez place was drifting slowly to the west, while the main ranch house and barn sat almost due east. So what smelled so bad?

  A faint wisp of smoke rose from the far side of the barn. Layla blinked. She would have missed noticing it if she hadn’t been peering at everything so intently.

  Without thinking, she started to run, screeching, “Norberto! Hector! Somebody, help! The barn’s on fire!”

  She rounded the corner and slid to a stop, gasping a heartfelt, “Thank You, God!” when she realized there was no immediate danger to animals or buildings.

  A pile of soiled hay was doing its best to burn in spite of the frigid temperatures. Her first thought was spontaneous combustion. That wasn’t a rare phenomenon in the heat of summer but it didn’t fit this situation. A carelessly discarded cigarette was a far more probable source of ignition, especially this time of year.

  She didn’t like leaving the pile smoldering that close to a vulnerable building so she grabbed a pitchfork and proceeded to scatter the old hay to cool it.

  The tines of the pitchfork hit something hard. Puzzled, Layla scraped away the glowing embers to reveal what had been buried in the fire. It was a black feed pan. She didn’t have to look closely to see the scrape marks she’d left on it when she’d taken her lab samples.

  One mystery was resolved. When someone had tried to destroy the evidence, they’d admitted to purposely poisoning Michael Vance’s innocent cattle. What kind of monster would do a thing like that?

  Chapter Five

  Trembling, Layla quickly spun around, praying no one was lurking close by, ready to pounce on her. All she could think about was alerting Michael as soon as possible.

  She pushed the pan around in the slushy snow to make sure it was cool enough to handle, then grabbed it by the rim and dashed for his truck.

  The pitchfork stayed in her hand, just in case. It wasn’t much of a defense weapon but it was better than nothing. Until she and Michael figured out what was going on, she intended to be prepared.

  Tossing the pan and pitchfork into the back of the truck, she slid into the driver’s seat, gunned the engine and whipped the wheel around till she was headed in the right direction. The rear wheels slipped then caught, spraying a rooster tail of mud and melted snow. Layla didn’t care. She had to get to Michael, to warn him what they were up against.

  Approaching the Cortez home, she saw Michael standing next to the fence with Norberto. They both looked startled when she barreled up to them and skidded to a stop.

  Michael handed his shovel to Norberto and stomped over to Layla as she got out of the truck. “What do you think this is, the Indianapolis Speedway?”

  She waved her hands in front of her like windshield wipers set on the fastest speed. “Never mind that. Listen. I know what’s been happening.”

  “So do I,” Michael retorted. “You’ve been driving like a maniac.” He held out his hand. “Give me the keys.”

  “They’re in the truck.” Layla ignored his ire. “I was on the back porch and I saw a fire.”

  Michael rolled his eyes and glanced past Norberto at the smoldering pyre he’d lit to sterilize the area. “No kidding. Imagine that.”

  “Not there,” Layla insisted. “Up by the barn.”

  That was all it took to set Michael in motion. He shoved her out of his way so he’d have access to the truck and started to get in.

  Layla grabbed his arm in passing and hung on, forcing him to stop and listen. “It’s okay. I put it out.”

  Although his posture relaxed a bit she could still feel tensed muscle beneath her grasp. “Calm down,” she said. “It was just a little hay pile, back where we put the stuff that’s cleaned out of the stalls.”

  “What happened?”

  “Thankfully, I’d gone outside or we’d never know.”

  “I still don’t,” Michael barked. He motioned to Norberto. “Go see to it.”

  Layla held up both hands and shouted, “No! Nobody should go up there. There might be clues. The more we walk around the barn, the less there’ll be for the police to find when they get here.”

  “You called the police?”
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  “Well, no, not yet. But when you see for yourself you’ll probably want to. There was no way it could have been an accidental fire.”

  Michael was shaking his head and staring at her as if she were the dumbest city slicker he’d ever met. “Refuse like that naturally combusts all the time, Layla. The pile heats up by itself and if conditions are right, it starts to smolder.”

  “In the middle of winter?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You’re right. But what makes you so sure it was arson?”

  She released his arm slowly in case he decided to bolt. When he merely stood there, giving her his trademark cynical look, she stepped to the rear of the truck and retrieved the scorched black pan.

  Displaying it, she said, “This does. After I took my samples into the house, I went back to get the pan out of the truck. I wanted to put it somewhere the dogs wouldn’t bother it. It was gone.”

  She paused, waiting for the truth to sink into Michael Vance’s thick skull. As his eyes widened, she added. “That’s right. I found it buried in the middle of the burning pile. A few more minutes and there wouldn’t have been any proof of how your cattle were poisoned. None.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. I know I left the pan in the bed of this truck when I went into the house. Your dogs are still shut in the barn and mine is in my cabin. There’s no way any of them took this away and buried it.”

  “Coyotes?” Norberto suggested.

  Michael contradicted him. “Not this winter. Mice and rabbits are thick in the wild. Coyotes aren’t starving like some years. There’s nothing to lure them that close to the house.” He began to scowl. “Besides, coyotes don’t carry matches. It looks like we’re dealing with another kind of predator. The two-legged kind.”

  He took the damaged feed pan from Layla and studied it. “You’re sure this is the same one?”