Out of Range Read Online Free PDF

said.
    “It’ll take some time.”
    Joe had a vision of Nate Romanowski, wearing his shoulder holster, riding the buffalo through the streets of Saddlestring in the anemic Fourth of July parade. The thought made him snort.
    “How many of these calls have you received?” Nate asked later, over coffee in his stone house. The buffalo had been unsaddled and turned out to pasture.
    “Three in the last month.” “Could it just be a misdial?”
    Joe nodded. “Sure. But how likely is that?”
    “Can’t you get somebody to trace the call? Or get Caller ID?”
    “I ordered it this morning. The next time there’s a call, we should be able to figure out who it is. Then maybe we’ll know why.”
    “I’ll check in with Marybeth while you’re gone,” Nate said.
    “I’d appreciate that. Things get a little wild at times during hunting season. She’s more than capable of handling anything, as you know, but it makes me feel better to know you’ll keep an eye out.”
    “A deal is a deal,” Nate said.
    Joe wanted to say more. To remind Nate that the “deal”
    about protecting Joe and his family was one Nate had come up with, something Joe never proposed or really accepted.
    Being allies with a man like Nate made Joe uncomfortable at times because it went against his instincts. Nate was a strange man, a frightening man. But at times like these, he needed a guy like Nate, who was always a man of his word and didn’t care about appearances, constraints, or even the law.
    “Thanks for the coffee,” Joe said, standing.
    “Don’t go crazy over in Jackson,” Nate cautioned.
    “This from a man who is trying to ride a buffalo around.”
    Joe smiled.
    “If you need help, call me.”
    Joe stopped at the door and looked back. “And vice versa.”
    That night, Joe sat at his desk and made a list of ongoing projects and the status of each to email to Phil Kiner in Laramie. Maxine sat curled at his feet, knowing, like dogs always knew, that she would be abandoned soon and making him feel as guilty as possible for it by staring at him with her big brown eyes. The whole evening had been that way.
    It had started at dinner with a melancholy pot roast and vegetables Sheridan complained were undercooked. Joe recognized her attitude for what it was: She was at an age where if she was angry with her father or mad at the world in general she took it out on her mother, who was the disciplinarian in the family. Lucy’s way of showing her disapproval for his leaving was to ignore him and pretend he wasn’t there, which to Joe was even worse.
    He looked over his long email message. He knew he would forget things, and there was no way he could provide the background necessary on specific hunters Phil may have a problem with, or the idiosyncrasies of individual landowners. It was strange, Joe thought, not knowing for sure if he was coming back to his district.
    Fi ve A traveler going from east to west over the Bighorn Mountains has three choices of routes: U.S. 16 through Ten Sleep Canyon and Worland, U.S. 14 descending through Shell Canyon and Greybull, and U.S. 14A, via the Medicine Wheel Passage and on to Lovell. Joe chose 14A not only for the challenge of its switchbacks but for the view he would get when he broke over the top of the range and saw the vista of the Bighorn Basin laid out flat, brown, and endless. He chewed gum to help his ears pop as they clouded with elevation, and looked over frequently to check on Maxine, his Labrador, who he’d left at home until he could scope out his new district. Fine, gritty snow peppered his windshield at the tenthousandfoot summit, the snow appearing from a virtually cloudless light blue sky.
    His feelings were decidedly mixed. The memory of the morning with his young family stayed with him. Sheridan and Lucy had been dressed for school and scrambling along the countertop in the kitchen, assembling their lunches. Marybeth was preparing for a day of bookkeeping at the pharmacy. She wore khaki