Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [123]
During the next break he sought Martinez out at the new corral, where he was feeding his horse some crushed oats.
“That’s a fine-looking saddle,” Kerney said as he dismounted.
Martinez, who was inside the corral, grunted and nodded in reply.
Kerney climbed over the top railing, stepped up to the horse, and ran his hand over the padded seat. The craftsmanship was high quality. “Handmade, I bet.”
“Yeah, it is.” Martinez took his horse by the reins.
On the seat by the horn was the saddlemaker’s name, Matt Thornton.
“Does it have a wood tree?”
Martinez nodded.
Where did you get it?” Kerney asked.
“Up in Nevada.”
Kerney shook his head and smiled at Martinez. “It’s sweet.”
Martinez swung into saddle and pointed at the corral gate. “Get that for me, will you.”
Kerney opened the gate and Martinez trotted his horse out of the corral toward Walter Shaw, who was about a hundred yards away on a nice-looking sorrel gelding, harrying a cow back into the herd. Martinez reached Shaw just as the cow scampered into the fold, and the two men paused to chat.
Although he couldn’t be certain, Kerney had the strong impression that he’d agitated Martinez. Why would admiring the man’s saddle get him riled? Most working cowboys were pleased to show off their prized tack. Martinez’s behavior made Kerney all the more curious about him. He dialed his office and asked to be put through to the investigation unit.
Detective Matt Chacon took the call. Kerney described the saddle and asked him to track down the maker in Nevada.
“Sure thing, Chief,” replied Chacon, who had never been on a horse in his life. “I know what a saddle horn is, but what’s a cantle, fender, and tree?”
“The cantle is the back of the saddle seat,” Kerney replied, “fenders are wide pieces of leather along the stirrup leathers, and the tree is the frame of the saddle. Have you got all that?”
“I wrote it down, Chief,” Chacon said.
“Good. I want as many facts as you can get. Who the buyer was, when it was bought, how much was paid, and the type of transaction. Leave me a message after you run it down.”
“Ten-four.”
Over a bullhorn one of Susan Berman’s production assistants ordered the cast and extras to report for a wardrobe and makeup check. Kerney mounted and rode to a tent to be looked over to make sure he was appropriately scruffy for the cameras. Far in the distance he could see Malcolm Usher and a camera crew on the cliff overlooking Granite Pass. Two other cameras were in place at the mouth of the pass, one on tracks with a boom and the other on a crane. A fourth camera, mounted on a truck, would parallel the cattle as they were driven toward the pass.
Up the valley a ways and out of sight, helicopters, squad cars, and stunt men were standing by, ready to roll into action for the exciting chase scene into the pass. High above Granite Pass a small plane with an onboard camera circled. It would capture the arrival of the squad cars and whirlybirds.
After getting his face smudged Kerney helped separate the herd into two groups. Usher wanted some of the cattle stampeded by the approaching police helicopters and cruisers as they entered the pass. According to a crew member Kerney talked to, all the cameras would be rolling simultaneously, and if everything went okay, there would be enough raw footage in the can to edit the sequence to a final cut. But the chances were good, the man added, that Usher would want to shoot the sequence twice.
Trampled by thousands of hooves over three days, the rich grassland pasture Julia Jordan had bragged about now looked pale yellow and used up. The cattle Joe Jordan had rented out for the production were dust covered, thirsty, and cantankerous. In the strong afternoon sun heat waves quivered up from the ground, made more visible by the dust that swirled in the air. The mouth of Granite Pass revealed a narrow rocky trail that