"Unhappy Trails"

**Immediately follows "Blood Feud"**

"It takes a long time to grow an old friend."
John Leonard

CHAPTER 1

Ben Devereux stopped his pickup on the trail and walked toward the location of the second of three trail cameras that he had placed on his property. Smiling as he approached the well-camouflaged game cam he had a good feeling: this would be the year he would get that buck that he had been after for the last two years. Looking back over their history he couldn't help but smile. That deer had made a fool of him three times; the first was when he had been so excited that he had forgotten to load his rifle, the second the day he fell out of the tree stand, and the third when he had simply blown a good shot. Technically, he thought to himself, all three were his own darn fault, but blaming it on the deer made him feel better about it.

The camouflage on the cameras these days was about as perfect as it could get. He had placed the camera himself and still had to look hard to spot it. With it in sight he walked from the edge of the stand of pecan trees automatically scanning the ground for snakes and stopped in his tracks; about six feet in front of him was a copperhead. "Boy, you need to move along." He waited, then picked up a small rock and chunked it at the snake who gave him what he imagined was a disgusted look and then slithered off to the north. "Good enough." As he began advancing a smell hit him. "Must be a dead 'dillo back here. Phew!" It was only when he was within four feet of the camera that he spied the source of the odor: lying on the forest floor was a body. "Holy Mother of God..." Backing away he fumbled for his cell and hit 911.

Out on the Houston ranch, all of the cowboys with the help of their boss Matt Houston and his newly-adopted son Tomás had just finished loading the last of the debris from the old bunkhouse into a dumpster. The building that had been on the ranch since the early 1950's had been destroyed by a tornado a few weeks earlier and the last stage - loading the chunks of concrete from the old foundation - was now complete. "Guess it's time to have a party, boys." Marty Hoffmann, foreman of the ranch gave the others a smile.

"I second that motion." Matt wiped his face with the bandanna that had been hanging out of his back pocket for most of the day as they labored in the Texas heat and humidity.

"Hon..." CJ called down from the back porch of the main house, his cell phone in her hand. "Sheriff Martinez..." Although she knew her husband didn't mind helping out the department, he already had a ton of work to do both around the ranch and on a project that he was working on for the Defense Department with computer guru Derwin Dunlap. Seeing his shoulders sag slightly before he turned and came up the steps she knew going to a crime scene was the last thing he wanted at this point in the day.

"Thanks, Babe." Taking the phone he wiped the sweat from his face again in the late afternoon heat. "Yes ma'am?"

"Houston...we've got a call to a murder about fifteen miles south east of you and we are so swamped right now. There's been a gang fight this afternoon and..."

"Where is it?" He took the notepad and pen that CJ had gotten out of the kitchen for him and wrote down the address. "Who's the complainant?"

"Ben Devereux. I'm sorry. Chuck told me you've been working on the bunkhouse and some other project. I really didn't want to call you."

"Not a problem. Have the coroner and CSI already been notified?" Madre Rosa stepped out on the porch with a clean t-shirt and bottle of sports drink for him as CJ returned with his holster, vest and badge.

"They have...but don't be surprised if there's a delay. This gang deal is pretty bad – six kids dead on the scene and over a dozen others injured."

"Sorry to hear that. I've got you covered on this one so don't worry."

"I really appreciate it."

"Well, I do work there ya know. Don't worry about it. Talk to you later." Hanging up he chugged down part of the drink and replaced the cap, pulling out the bandanna and wiping himself off a little bit before donning the fresh shirt and tucking it in. Next he put on the holster, checking the Glock and replacing it. "Be back as soon as I can...but from the sound of things it may be a while."

"Just be careful, Cowboy. Love you."

"Love you..." He gave first his wife and then the housekeeper a peck on the check. "...and you, too. Thanks." Sliding behind the wheel of the truck he started it and hit the AC, leaving the door open for a minute to give some of the hot air a chance to vacate before he closed it and started turning around, then headed down the driveway of the ranch. Turning on the police radio that was now part of the equipment on the truck that he had bought to replace the one that had been destroyed, he could hear a load of chatter about the gang fight. "Maybe one of these days they'll stop..." He shook his head. Gang violence had only done one good thing that he knew of: it had brought his son Tomás into their lives and for that he was grateful. His route took him first west on Atascocita Road, then south on Crosby Huffman Road until it met up with Crosby Cedar Bayou Road where he went east. Next he turned north on Bohemian Hall Road, and then east on Kenning Road where he was met at a gate by the complainant.

"Ben Devereux." The man, though obviously shocked, offered his hand to the detective.

"Matt Houston."

"It's back in the woods a little ways. Do you want to follow me back or..."

"You can just load up with me if you want...save on the tire tracks."

"Sure thing." The man opened the passenger door and climbed in, looking at the interior of the truck. "Not department issue is it?"

"No sir – it's mine. Had to get it a few weeks ago; my other one got crumpled by the tornado in the department's parking lot."

"Ouch."

As they started down the gravel driveway, Devereux explained what he had been doing in the area. "When I saw that I just backed myself right out of there...didn't want to mess up anything for y'all."

"We appreciate it...hopefully it won't be much longer until we can get CSI and the coroner out here. Seems they've had a busy day."

"When I got back to the house my wife told me there was a big gang fight. Damn kids...will they ever learn?"

"Too late for some of 'em." The road up ahead changed to dirt and the detective stopped. "Think you can point out your tracks for me?"

"Sure." They both exited the vehicle, the humidity a smack in the face after the cool interior of the truck. "Right here."

"Okay..."Matt studied the area, not seeing any other tracks. Going back to the comfort of the truck he spoke. "Y'all keep that gate locked all the time?"

"We do."

"Any other way onto the property?"

"Not without going through a barbwire fence."

"Does it front another road?"

"Down on the south side - Wolchek."

"Alright." He followed along next to the path, the window rolled down so that he could see the tire tracks until he stopped where Devereux directed him, still not seeing any others. As he slid out of the truck he rolled the window back up and popped the hood release to let some air circulate underneath, leaving the engine running. "It's about twenty to thirty feet in that way...and look out – I scared up a copperhead when I came back here."

"Alright. Are these the boots you were wearing out here?"

"Yes sir."

"Lemme see the soles on 'em." He looked at the pattern on the work boots, a combination of parallel lines for an inch and a half and then a series of opposing v-shaped treads back to the mid-sole, then more parallel lines surrounding the opposing v's on the heel. "Thanks." Approaching the area cautiously, the cowboy recognized it as a grove of pecan trees. "You deer hunt back here?"

"Sure do." Ben raised his voice as the detective got further away. "Been after a darn buck back here going on three years now. He's a tricky son of a gun."

"They're like that." Matt nodded as he found his way down the nearly invisible trail watching for signs of others who had passed through recently. Although he had been keeping an eye out for snakes, Devereux obviously hadn't noticed the tracks that the detective found now, partially wiped out by the land owner. Spying one that had escaped destruction and squatting down he held his hand out over it, deciding that it looked to be about a size thirteen with an average width. He dropped his pen next to it and proceeded carefully onward, the smell from the corpse in the late afternoon heat not something that he would want anyone else to have to experience. There were plenty of other shoe prints going back to the spot and as he began breathing through his mouth - silently cursing his lack of mints to block out the smell - he got near enough to see that it appeared to be a young man, just short of six feet tall, weighing maybe one-sixty, and wearing jeans, boots, and a light blue t-shirt. His face was obscured by a heavy white plastic shopping bag that had been duct taped around his neck, but from what he could tell the victim appeared to possibly be Hispanic. His wrists were bound by what looked like baling twine. Taking a look at the victim's boots he ruled them out as being the same ones that had made the tracks into the woods. After checking all around the body, he found others that matched the one that he had marked and headed back out to the truck. Looks like he was carried in...

Pulling out his cell phone as it began ringing he wiped sweat off of his face once again as he got back to the truck. "Houston."

"Sergeant Oglesby – CSI. Where in the hell is the scene?"

Matt recognized the man's voice and attitude: they had met a while back while the detective was working in conjunction with the Fire Bureau on some murders that were also arsons. The attitude hadn't changed for the better. "Follow the gravel road on down. It'll change to dirt. The tire tracks there belong to the landowner and myself – no need to get a sample. Keep following it and you'll find us. Is the Coroner with you?"

"No." The man hung up.

"I'm gonna warn you – the CSI tech they sent out is a real grouch. Not sure what his problem is but he'll probably want a print of your boot sole and possibly fingerprints or DNA."

"No problem. Any idea who it is in there?"

"No, the face is covered up and I can't move the body to get the wallet until the Coroner gets here. For right now..." He took a swig of the sports drink. "...I'm gonna try to cool off a little bit. I apologize for not smelling exactly fresh as a daisy. Been working all day on tearing down what was left of a bunkhouse."

"Day off, huh?"

"Not exactly. I get called in when they get swamped or just plain stuck."

"Well you sure seem to know what you're doing. Looks like your CSI guy found us."

Climbing out of the truck Houston waited as the sergeant made some notes on his computer before getting out of his SUV muttering under his breath. "Afternoon..." There was no reply. "I marked a shoe print for you – put my pen down next to it. Looks to be about a..."

"I think I can figure that out for myself, thanks." Oglesby shot him a nasty look and pulled out two of his cases.

"Need a hand?"

"No, what I need is for you to stay the hell out of my way." He brushed past the detective who although he had tried to be friendly, was now ready to rip the tech's head off. "This the guy that found him?"

"Yep. Ben Devereux."

"So I guess you went walking all through it back there."

"I didn't know there was a body back there." The man gave Houston a look.

"Great. Now I've got to get a print of your shoes as well." Slinging down the cases he set about pulling out the static film that he needed for the job.

"You know..." The detective walked up next to the tech. "There's really no need for you to be so damn rude."

"Like you would know."

"I know this man called in when he found a body on his property...would you prefer he hadn't?"

"I would prefer not to have to work with "detectives" who haven't earned the right to wear that title...or sheriff's for that matter."

"You know what..." Houston now stood two steps away from the tech and resisted the urge to snatch him up by the shirt collar. "Just pack up your crap and go. I'll get somebody else out here."

"Get the hell away from me!" Oglesby got back to his feet and took a swing at him, missing as the cowboy ducked, his fist hitting the truck instead.

"Do it again..." The cowboy's voice had become a low growl and Oglesby turned beet red. "Get your grumpy ass outta here now."

"Gladly."

Keeping his hands at his sides, Houston watched as the kits were slung back inside the SUV and Oglesby left throwing a spray of dust up on the two men standing there. "Son of a bitch." He pulled out his phone calling Martinez directly. "Look, I know you've got a lot on your plate but I just had to kick one of your techs off the scene – and he may have compromised part of it in the process." Explaining what had happened he was assured that another tech would be sent out.

"Can I speak to Mr. Devereux, please?"

"Yes ma'am." Matt handed the phone over to the man who was still knocking dust off his clothing. "Sheriff wants to talk to you."

"Me?" He took the phone. "Yes ma'am?...Uh, yes ma'am...He did...No ma'am, no need for you to apologize...Well, thank you...If Detective Houston needs a witness he's got one...Thank you." He handed the phone back over and Matt ended the call in a minute then turned to apologize to the man. "Hell, he was pissed before he ever got here. If he hates his job so bad he needs to go somewhere else."

"I've got a feeling he's about to do just that." Motioning him back into the truck, he slid back behind the wheel. "We weren't the first ones to complain about him." After almost an hour's wait another call came in, this one from another tech that Matt had worked with on the arson cases.

"Hey, there. I heard you were in need of a CSI that doesn't mind doing some work." Michelle Rodolfo giggled.

"You got that right." Giving her the same directions he was wishing that he had another drink as he climbed out of the truck. Even though the sun was lower in the sky the humidity levels had jumped and dark clouds were starting to form. "Hope it doesn't start raining before the Coroner gets here." He looked up at the sound of another engine. "Well, would ya looky there."

"I gave them the directions after I talked to you." She looked around as she got out of the SUV. "And Oglesby did all this?"

"Yep."

"Bastard." She began taking shots of the ground where the SUV's tires had spun as the man had left earlier. "You two look ready to melt. There's a cooler in back – help yourselves."

"Bless you." Matt cracked up as he and Devereux grabbed a bottle each out of the cooler.

"Guess he got the dust all over y'all, too?"

"Yep. I wasn't exactly pristine when I got here but Ben was pretty much clean."

"Gotta get a picture of that, too. The sheriff is adding it to his list of offenses. Somebody's about to be hitting the unemployment line. I for one will be glad. He's terrible."

"I don't like having to tell about somebody but there's a limit."

"Yep." She snapped a couple of pictures. "Alright hon, I'll need to get a print of your boots for exclusion." She gave Devereux a smile.

"Not a problem." He did as she asked and in just a matter of seconds she was bagging and labeling the print.

"Did you touch anything on or around the body?"

"No ma'am. I turned tail and got the heck outta there when I saw it. Tried not to mess anything up for you but..." He shrugged.

"We appreciate the effort." Giving him a smile she started toward the pecan grove. "How many snakes am I gonna find back here?"

"There's at least one that I saw earlier – copperhead."

"Alrighty." She started in.

"Marked a print with my pen up that way." Matt took another long swig of the drink.

"Thanks." Moving on along with the Coroner's assistants right behind her she dropped a marker and ruler next to the print and photographed it before moving on into the trees.

"Why don't you go on back in there and stay cool?" Houston motioned to the pickup.

"Alright."

Taking another swig of the drink, Matt put the bottle inside the truck and put on a pair of nitrile gloves as he followed along, picking up his pen and pulling out the notebook that was in his pocket. Watching as the tech took pictures from practically every angle possible he wiped away more sweat with the arm of his t-shirt. In a couple of minutes the Coroner's assistants removed the wallet and handed it to Matt. "Charles Eli Nighthawk..." He copied the man's information down in the notebook and then dropped the wallet into an evidence bag that the tech held open for him. It was then that the soft patter of raindrops could be heard on the leaves.

Working together all four moved the victim into a body bag and as the assistants carried him back out to a stretcher, Houston carried one of Michelle's cases back to the SUV for her. "I sure appreciate you coming out here."

"Not a problem – that's my job." She gave him a big smile and then pulled two more bottles out of the cooler. "One for the road."

"I owe you."

"Don't worry – I'm about to collect: would you take Mr. Devereux back in to retrieve the SD card from the camera?" She opened a bottle herself.

"Not a problem." Matt took a big swig "So it looks like he was carried in there, and I only found one set of shoe prints other than Devereux's."

"Yep. We need to look outside here and see where they came from. Is there another gate?"

Shaking his head the detective swallowed another shot of the drink as he motioned in a circle around them. "He says there's barbwire all the way around. But if somebody wanted to cut it..."

"Uh huh. Well, looks like we get to go for a walk in the sprinkles."

"The south side of the property fronts Wolchek Road. Might be our best bet."

"Tell you what...why don't you and Mr. Devereux approach it from the road and I'll look for more signs and work my way down there; call me if you find anything. Deal?"

"Deal." Matt turned back toward the truck, got the landowner, and together they went back to remove the SD cards from the last two cameras. He also handed over the card from the first. As the cowboy gave them to the tech he grinned. "You wouldn't happen to be related to a lady in LA named Cheryl Crawford would ya?"

"Not that I know of...why?"

"Y'all could be sisters – at least in attitude." He gave a chuckle, slid behind the wheel, and put the truck in gear, telling Ben what they had in mind.

Out on the road they headed west then south, retracing his route out to the property, then headed east on Wolchek Road. "I believe we just found the way in..." Pulling over on the shoulder Matt hit his flashers and pulled out his phone to call the tech to let her know. Devereux slid out of the truck grumbling at the sight of the fence he would now have to repair.

"Runnin' any cows out here?" The detective hadn't seen any recent sign of such at the pecan grove.

"Not any more." Ben shook his head sadly. "The drought took care of that. When the pond started drying up I had to sell." He watched as Houston began scanning the ground and dropped down to examine another shoe print. "Got a match to the others. Looks like they definitely came through this way." He stopped at the fence. "And it looks like somebody got a little more than they bargained for with the fence." Pointing to a piece of material that was caught between a post and a barb he nodded. "One point to the good guys." He entered the woods, the area a mix of oak, elm, and pecan stopping about ten feet in when he heard a rattle. "Go on now, I don't have any arguments with ya." He waited as a rattler stared at him for a minute and then moved away to the east. Looking back down at the tracks it was obvious that their suspect hadn't even attempted to cover them up and appeared to be weighted down. He was definitely carried in...by one person. Must be a pretty stout guy.

"Hey, Michelle." He answered the ringing cell phone. "Yeah, we've got tracks and what looks like a piece of shirt on the fence."

"Alright. I'm about to enter the woods again on this side. Oglesby really screwed up this time: he took out part of the prints where he spun out. His ass is sooooo gone."

"Good." Wiping his face again, the detective hung up and kept following the trail that was clear to him. In a matter of minutes he met up with the tech and took the cases from her, holding them as she continued to document the tracks and led her up to the fence where she collected the material. "Well..." She stripped off her gloves after finishing up. "Guess that's about all we can do here. Mr. Devereux, I'd like to apologize for what happened earlier."

"No need. That guy was just looking for a fight; damn near got one, too when he took a swing at the detective here."

"No he didn't..."

"Yep." Matt nodded. "Hit the passenger side of the truck over there." He followed her around as she took a look. "Bet that didn't feel so good on his knuckles." He gave a grin.

"Did you tell the sheriff that?"

"No."

"You will; when you get to the office she wants you to file a report; make sure it's in there." Turning to Ben she spoke again. "She'd also like to get a statement from you."

"Not a problem. Be glad to do it."