Carver pointed to the side road on the left, just off the main highway. He leaned forward, practically on the edge of the passenger seat in Janice Holston’s truck. Itching to get out, he hadn’t even buckled his seat belt. “Whatever you say, cowboy.” The pretty blond smiled his way and turned the dually, pulling his horses into the rutted, dirt road. From a distance, he’d seen the sheriff’s flashing lights head this way, but he couldn’t be certain if she had taken this detour or another from the main road. He wished Janice would drive faster. She hadn’t been willing to let him behind the wheel, but at least she’d agreed to help. The truck and trailer crept along the path, Janice slowing to an almost complete stop at every pothole. Carver’s patience ran out. The sheriff might have run into trouble. Finding his cattle was one thing, but if something happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. Why had he called her? “Tell you what. Let me unload one of my horses, and I’ll ride ahead of you.”
