Steal You Away

Chapter One

Chase Stark sat loose in the saddle following the fence line as the heat of the Colorado summer beat down on his back. His dog, Goose, trotted ahead of him sniffing at every cluster of sagebrush, rock and clump of grass he could put his nose on. Once in a while, his efforts paid off and a rabbit would jump out of hiding, allowing him to give chase until the poor critter disappeared. Then it would begin all over again. It was all fun and games until he pissed off a badger or got a face full of skunk. Or, like last time, got a snoot full of porcupine needles, Chase thought as he pulled his Stetson hat lower on his forehead.

Leaning down, he grabbed the canteen off his saddle horn and tipped it back, letting the cool water slide down his throat. Loosening the bandana from around his neck, he poured a little of the water on it and wiped the grit off his neck. The chilliness felt good. Not as good as the beer he had waiting for him in the fridge back home, but until he found that lost bull, it would have to do.

"Goose!" Chase hollered at the oversized mongrel as he went loping off after something else which attracted his nose. But it was no use, he would have more luck getting a rock to heel then he would get from that damn stubborn animal.

"One of these days, I'm going to get me a real ranch dog," Chase grumbled, kicking his gelding into a trot to catchup before Goose got himself into trouble.

Furious barking made Chase pick up the pace. Over a small rise, around a thicket of sagebrush and by a small spruce, Goose growled and snarled at something on the ground.

"What do you have there, boy?" Chase asked, dismounting and walking over to where the dog now sat drooling around something in his mouth.

After a few seconds of drop it and give me that tugging, Chase held a soggy hiking boot in his hand. A very small hiking boot. Looking at it more closely, it seemed like the type of shoe a woman would wear. It certainly wasn't big enough for any of the ranch hands or his brother and it didn't look old enough to have been sitting out in the weather for very long.

So the question was....where did it come from? Chase lifted his head from inspecting the shoe and scanned the horizon looking for signs of trespassers. Stark Ranch sat nestled in some of the most beautiful wilderness Colorado had to offer. The forgiving topography of the ranch also meant an abundance of trouble from sightseers, hikers, poachers and fishermen wanting to try their luck on some of the best streams in the area packed with trout the size of a frying pan. The fact all of this bounty was on private property, never deterred them.

Chase sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. Great, instead of finding a cantankerous bull, he now needed to find some idiot who didn't know the meaning of boundaries or keep out signs posted every fucking ten feet. That beer was getting further and further away from his grasp.

Cussing under his breath, he stomped over to horse and unbuckled one of his saddlebags, shoving the shoe inside. Mounting back up, he circled around the area until he found what appeared to be tracks leading towards the river which separated Stark lands from BLM. Whistling for Goose, he headed in that direction. If he was lucky, he would find whoever it was before Angus did.

No less than twenty minutes later, his luck ran out. Snorting and pawing the ground was Angus in a full snit. The brahma bull charged a small aspen at full speed, ramming his head into the trunk with such force Chase could hear the crack. A scream filled the air as whoever Angus had treed, clung on for dear life. The owner of the missing shoe, Chase assumed.

Kicking his horse into a slow lope, he pulled his rope off the horn. Swinging it in a wide arc above his head, he rode up and tossed it over the bull's horns before he could charge again. Doing a swift dally around the horn, he sank Rio on his haunches and started backing up, dragging a pissed off Angus with him.