grandfather was happy here. The IRS had no right to do what they were doing.
âI donât suppose you want to go to church with me in the morninâ,â G.W. said.
âIâm not much for singing hymns and listening to a preacher, you know that.â
âIt might do you some good.â
âIt probably would,â Kyle agreed, âbut if itâs all right with you, I think Iâll just sleep in.â
âFine. Iâm not gonna argue with you.â
âMaybe there are some chores around here I can do for you,â Kyle suggested.
âIâll take care oâ Sunday chores before I leave,â G.W. said gruffly. âDonât worry about it.â
Kyle nodded. He knew he had let his grandfather down, but there was only so much a guy could change at a time.
He changed the subject by saying, âTell me about the people who have been sneaking around here. What did you mean when you said maybe we could put a stop to it?â
âHalf a dozen times my hands have spotted a couple of fellas in a jeep out on the range where they shouldnât be. We still work the cattle mostly on horseback, so by the time my men rode out to where the jeep was, it was gone and so were the fellas in it. Iâve seen âem myself. Not only that, Iâve heard their engine at night, up around that pool at the edge of the hills.â
Kyle knew the pool his grandfather meant. The creek formed it by running into a basin in the rocks. It wasnât very big, maybe twenty feet across and five or six feet deep, and from there the stream trickled on out in the valley for another quarter mile before disappearing. Kyle had gone swimming in that natural pool when he was a kid, and he remembered how clear and cold the water was.
âWhat I was thinkinâ,â G. W. went on, saying, âis that you and me would stake ourselves out up there and wait for the varmints to show up.â
âAt night, you mean?â
âYeah. Weâll take our sleepinâ bags and take turns standinâ guard until they show up again.â
âAnd what do we do then?â Kyle asked.
âWell, weâll take rifles, too,â G.W. said. âThat ought to help convince âem to tell us who they are and what in blazes theyâre doing sneakinâ around my ranch.â
Kyle frowned and said, âYouâre going to throw down on IRS agents? Thatâs a good way to get your butt in a federal pen, G.W.âor shot off.â
âWell, what do you think we ought to do?â G.W. demanded with a frown of his own.
âHaving a stakeout and trying to catch them is a good idea, but maybe weâd better leave the guns at home. Youâve got a spotlight, donât you?â
âSure.â
âIf we hit them with the spotlight, they wonât be able to see us. They wonât know whether weâre armed or not. If theyâve got any sense theyâll answer our questions. This is still your land, and youâve got a right to know whoâs on it and why.â
G. W. snorted and said, âWell, Iâm glad we see eye to eye on that much, anyway.â
âWeâd better record the whole thing, too. If we can prove that the IRS has been trespassing, it might help your case in court.â
âMaybe,â G.W. said in grudging agreement. âIâve got one of those fancy phones thatâll record video.â
âThatâs not fancy. Theyâll all do that now. They have for twenty years or more.â
G. W. ignored that and said, âWeâll start tomorrow night. Donât want to do it tonight because it might interfere with church in the morninââand with your sleepinâ in.â
Kyle let that little jab go on by unremarked and picked up the longneck from the porch planks beside his chair.
âTo Operation Skulker,â he said as he raised the bottle in a toast.
G.W. just made a slightly disgusted
Julie Kramer
Anthony E. Zuiker
Michael Cobley
D. B. Douglas
James Carroll
Tabor Evans
Richard S. Tuttle
Greg Rucka
Cynthia Sax
Philip S. Donlay