Perfect Timing Read Online Free PDF Page B

hadn’t expected them to still be puppylike after a decade. “So much excitement,” he commiserated. “Sirens blaring and people yelling down here—and my boys were locked up in Pauline’s apartment, missing out on all the fun.” Quincy gave each dog a playful roll on the soft dirt. “Have you been off doing your jobs, sniffing out every nook and cranny to see how that lady got in here?” He briskly ruffled their long fur to rid it of dust. “That’s my good boys. Put those sniffers of yours to good use.”
    When the dogs’ excitement had ebbed, Quincy resumed his task, hurrying because the love-in with his mutts had put him behind Pauline, who was working at her usual efficient speed. The shepherds quickly lost interest in stall cleaning and took off, running shoulder-to-shoulder as if physically attached, to sniff up trouble in another corner of the arena.
    It wasn’t until Quincy reached Beethoven’s stall that he remembered the satchel and weird hat that Ceara had unwillingly left behind. He hurried over to jerk open the bag, rifled through the contents, and found nothing to substantiate his suspicion that the woman had entered the compound to poison his stock. Weird . Ceara had a myriad of possessions inside the grip, everything from clothing to a sewing thimble. Quincy barely spared the items a glance, his sole focus on finding vials or telltale dustings of powder.
    When he met Pauline at the center of the workout area a few minutes later, she lifted her hands. “Nothing. I forked out all the loose hay and straw and rinsed out the feed bags from each stall, but my nose told me there was nothing bad in any of them.”
    Quincy’s nose had told him the same thing. “Well, it doesn’t look as if she came here to taint the feed. But just to be on the safe side, when the hands get here, have them toss all opened bags of grain and all the loose bales that are in hay storage. Tell them I want the horses to get nothing that might be contaminated. Grain from only sealed bags and hay from only bound bales. Everything else is out of here.”
    “You leaving?” Pauline asked.
    Quincy glanced at his watch. “I have to call the security company. I want to know how that woman got in here, and then I want to know every move she made afterward.” Quincy nearly winced when he remembered that he had all the other ranches to oversee as well. “Damn, Pauline. I can’t be in several places at once. I’ll need you to check on all the other ranches for me today. When Bingo gets here, turn this place over to him.”
    Pauline nodded and squared her shoulders. Bingo was an ex–rodeo champ with a bum hip from a bronc-riding accident years ago. Though physically limited, he was still excellent with horses and had it in him to manage the hired hands for a day without firing up any tempers. At thirty-eight, he was still young enough to become Pauline’s replacement, if and when she ever retired, and Quincy had his eye on him, judging his potential for that position on a daily basis. As willing as Pauline was to keep working, she had a bad back, and Quincy knew her days as a horsewoman were probably numbered.
    “Gotcha covered, boss.” Pauline ran a hand over her short-cropped hair. “Let me know what you find on the security tapes. Once I get the crew lined out and have Bingo on top of everything, I’ll spare a few minutes to check things here. If the woman broke in, there must be evidence of it somewhere.”
    Quincy nodded his approval. Pauline was invaluable to him; she thought for herself and was quick on her feet. His dad had chosen well when he had selected her to become Quincy’s foreman at the Lazy H. Quincy had been only twenty-one and as green as grass when he’d started his own ranch. Pauline had advised him at every turn, sharing with him all her wisdom, garnered over a period of years.
    “Thanks, Pauline. I always know I can count on you.”
    She touched her temple in a mock salute. “Appreciate the