Wait for Signs: Twelve Longmire Stories (16 page)

“It’ll have to go, too.” I gestured toward Vargas and walked the fine line of overkill. “Ask him if he’s got any more ammunition for the .22—I’d hate to use my .45 on a lamb.”

Saizarbitoria stood there, looking at me.

*   *   *

It didn’t take long for Chuck and me to safely tie both Petunia and her lamb to the hold-down eyelets in the bed of my truck as the Basquo carried on a conversation with the shepherd and then joined us at the Bullet. “He says he won’t take any money, but I’ll just run him up some groceries and a bottle of red wine next week.”

Chuck looked at him. “You’d better keep the Bandit Queen locked up tight, or every rancher in Wyoming is going to be after you—especially Garber.”

Santiago walked over to the truck and pulled the wool back away from the sheep’s eyes, and I could pretty well figure that there was some kind of connection going on between the aged ewe and the genetic coding in the Basquo. “Maybe her wandering days are over; we’ve got almost an acre behind the house that’s fenced.”

Saizarbitoria and I climbed into the Bullet and waved good-bye, turning back onto the dirt two-track, slowly descending out of the high pasture. Sancho threw an arm over the seat and looked past Dog into the bed. “At least that damned puppy of ours will have something to do now.”

I drove the entire forty miles without cracking a smile—a personal
best.