Mac hit the Ford’s brakes so hard it shuddered to a halt, throwing Jill sideways with alarming force.

She yelped as her ribs slammed against the edge of the sunroof and then slumped back inside onto the passenger seat, relatively unscathed.

Outside, Baxter was almost thrown from his ride as the horse staggered to a stop in front of the truck. He slithered down, rifle still in hand and opened his mouth.

Before he could fire off any comments, MacGyver was out from the cab and had grabbed him by the lapels.

“Just what did you think you were doing?” Mac snatched the Winchester from the elder man’s grasp and tossed it to the floor. “You could have killed someone!”

Baxter huffed as his men surrounded them, still mounted on their horses. “I was aiming at the stallion you dumb son o…”

MacGyver stepped back in surprise as Jill moved between them and slapped Baxter hard across the face before he could finish.

She stared at her neighbor with steely eyes that could have belonged to a hawk stalking its prey. “The mustangs are back on my land now. Stray on there, and maybe I’ll just make a mistake and shoot you…”

Baxter grunted but didn’t grace Jill with an answer. He ran a hand across his face where she’d hit him and then licked his lips before climbing back on his horse.

He spun the Skewbald around and cantered away, the other wranglers silently following.

“I think you just made an enemy,” MacGyver sighed.

“I was an enemy the minute I took over the ranch when my husband died.” Jill ran a hand through her hair in what appeared to be a habit. “That didn’t stop me then, and it won’t now. The only trouble is we’ve only managed a quick fix. The mustangs might be back on my land, but they won’t stay there.”

“Maybe we should have a word with that guy?” Mac pointed to the edge of Jill’s property.

The white stallion was there again, watching them. The rest of the herd had vanished with the lead mare, but the stallion appeared curious, maybe even bold in their presence.

It pawed the ground again, its neck craning before it reared onto its hind legs and snorted. Then, it was gone, racing off to join its family somewhere in the distance.

MacGyver shook his head. Was that a thank you?

* * * *

Little Horseshoe Ranch
Nevada

MacGyver was sitting back and enjoying more of Adelita’s lemonade out on the terrace. If he was honest, he’d never tasted anything quite like it, and was considering asking her for the recipe before he left.

That was, if he ever came up with a solution for the mustangs.

Right now he was trying to come up with ideas with Jill on how to keep them on her land, but it wasn’t easy. All Baxter had to do was take down a fence on purpose and wait, eventually the herd was bound to stray.

A phone began to ring in the house and Mac checked his watch. It was probably Pete calling with the information on Baxter.

He excused himself and headed inside, taking the call when Adelita offered up the handset and confirmed it was Pete.

“So what have you got for me, Pete?”

“Not a whole lot on Baxter and the neighbors, I’m afraid. Troy Baxter is squeaky clean and so are the other ranchers. I can’t believe it, but I couldn’t even find a parking ticket between the whole bunch!” Pete sounded like he was surprised, but the edge to his voice said he had more to offer.

“But you have something, right?” MacGyver impatiently prodded.

“Well, there is one name that came up with shall we say, some “bad press.” Roy Massey, the old guy you told me about at the meeting? Well he has a huge skeleton in his closet.” Pete paused, probably for effect, making Mac wonder why his old friend hadn’t gone into acting.

“And?”

Pete continued, “It seems Massey’s wife was having an affair with another man some thirty years ago, and strangely, said wife and her lover vanished from town one night, never to be heard from again. The local sheriff at the time always thought Massey had killed them, but he could never prove it.”

MacGyver took in the information. It had to be relevant somehow, but how? Could this really all be connected to Massey’s wife and lover? “Thanks, Pete, I’ll be in touch.”

He put the phone down and stood for a moment before going back outside and telling Jill what Pete had discovered.

Jill didn’t seem convinced of a link. “Even if Massey did kill his wife thirty years ago, what has that to do with a bunch of wild mustangs?” She was pacing back and forth on the terrace until Mac thought she might wear a hole in her boots.

“We have to look at this from other angles – consider things outside the box.” Mac’s brow furrowed as he pushed his mind to think laterally. “Some of Billy’s land used to belong to Baxter, and Massey has always worked for Baxter. What if he did kill his wife and her boyfriend and buried them on Baxter’s property somewhere? Then when some of that land was given to Billy, it might have caused a problem.”

“But why now? And why the mustangs?” Jill stopped pacing and stared at Mac as if he had all the answers.

“Well, nothing happened until Billy thought of selling, right? Maybe Roy Massey couldn’t risk Billy selling to the developers when he knew they’d start and dig the place up. Maybe they’d find more than they bargained for.”

“So you think the bad press with the horses was to put the land developer off? No developer, no digging?” Jill seemed to be following Mac’s train of thought. “So why keep up the offensive against the horses once the deal was off? And what about Baxter? He was real adamant about outing those mustangs.”

MacGyver took a long sip of his lemonade. “I think Massey has worked for Baxter so long he’s gotten under his skin. Baxter thinks he’s an old-timer like himself. Massey has used that to play Baxter like a puppet, getting him all fired up about the horses and damage they’ve caused – damage Massey has really done.”

Jill thought about it, but didn’t look convinced.

Maybe she’d rather slap Baxter again, MacGyver mused before continuing his theory.

“I think maybe Massey kept up his offensive against the mustangs for a second reason too. It gives him cause to go onto Billy’s land, supposedly after the horses, but really he wants a cover story to go dig up two bodies. Let’s face it, he can’t risk another buyer coming along later and still digging.”

“I guess it makes sense,” Jill admitted. “But if you’re right, doesn’t that mean Billy might be in danger now the roundup didn’t happen?”

MacGyver cursed silently to himself and scrambled from his chair.

Massey still needed to dig up two skeletons, mustangs for a cover story or not, and that put Billy in the firing line for sure.

And if Massey had killed twice before, would one more victim bother him if Billy found him digging?

“C’mon!” Mac raced into the main house, grabbed the keys to Jill’s truck and dived outside. He was behind the wheel so fast, he almost overlooked one thing.

Jill waved to him with a scowl and pointed to the front of the Ford as she too ran from the main house.

MacGyver leaned out and realized what she was gesturing at.

Both front tires had been slashed – and there was only one spare.

He could run on the rims, but it would be slow going on the dirt track to Billy’s.

Jill had a better idea. “Forget the dang truck, we’ll ride!”

She took point in a race to one of two corals to the right of the main building. Luckily, two of the ranch hands had already a couple of mounts saddled and ready to go.

Although they had no idea their charges were about to be sequestered.

Jill grabbed the first horse’s reins from her foreman without a word and sprang into the saddle like a rodeo rider.

MacGyver followed up the rear, taking the larger of the two animals – a brown mare that really didn’t look like it had a lot of speed in it.

He settled in the saddle and gently spun it around with the reins, pleasantly surprised at how lithely it moved.

Maybe he’d be able to keep up with Jill’s steed after all, but would they be in time to warn Billy?

* * * *

The Crooked Spur Ranch
Billy Scott’s residence
Nevada

Billy’s spread wasn’t all that big compared to other local ranches, and it was soon apparent to MacGyver why he’d wanted to sell.

A lot of the land had been untended for so long, that it was little more than wild brush. The actual house wasn’t as much a ranch as a glorified cabin with a wide sweeping porch, and that too had seen better days.

As Mac dismounted his mare and began to climb the steps, he had to be careful where he put his boots, the wood beneath was so rotten.

Jill followed him, also watching her footing until they were onto a firmer section of timber.

The lights to Billy’s cabin were on, and Mac hoped that was a good sign.

He tapped lightly on the door and Jill scowled, somewhat bemused. “You’ll have to do better than that, Billy’s half deaf.” She wrapped with the full force of her knuckles to demonstrate.

There was no answer, so Mac peered through the very grimy side window, squinting through the dirt to scan for the old man.

His eyes locked onto an old boot lying strewn on the floor – except, this boot had a foot, and a leg and...

MacGyver pulled away from the window and without hesitation began lashing at the door with his right boot. The wood, like that on the porch was termite-infested, and gave way easily.

Mac almost tumbled into the house as the door and frame disintegrated into a pile of splinters.

He steadied himself and quickly jogged to where he’d seen the body. He didn’t know what Billy Scott looked like, but he was guessing this was the old man.

Kneeling, Mac tentatively checked for a pulse, but there was none, and from how cool Billy’s skin was, he guessed the rancher had been dead awhile.

“Is he dead?” Jill didn’t seem phased as she asked the question.

“Very.”

MacGyver knew he should really preserve the crime scene, but he gently moved the body just enough to see how Billy had died.

The old man was lying face down, and underneath him was a pool of blood that suggested he’d met a very violent end.

From what Mac could tell, he’d been shot in the chest with a shotgun. The blast had left Billy with a gaping hole where his heart should be.

Mac winced and let Billy carefully back down onto the wooden floor. “Does he have a phone? We need to call the police and fast. Massey could still be out here.”

Jill shook her head in frustration. “Are you kidding? Billy’s idea of communication with the outside world was the smoke coming out his chimney. We’ll have to ride to the next ranch.”

She moved to the hole where the door had been and then paused, staring out across the evening sky.

MacGyver joined her, curious as to what had stopped her so abruptly.

In the distance, there were fait lights – too far out to discern the source, but close enough to know they were on Billy’s land.

“That’s the area of land Baxter gave to Billy years ago,” Jill explained. “He used to keep a few cattle on it, but now its just brush land. I think there might be an old barn too, maybe that’s where the lights are coming from?”

“And it’s most likely where Massey hid the bodies of his wife and her lover,” Mac concluded. “You go make the call to the police, I’m going to check it out and see if it’s Massey over there.”

MacGyver slipped back into the mare’s saddle, enjoying the sensation of riding again after so long behind the wheel of a car. He tugged on the reins, but Jill grabbed the horse’s halter.

“Not so fast, mister! If you’re going over there, I’m coming with you.” She gracefully mounted her own horse without waiting for him to argue. “No macho “I’m in charge here” stuff, okay?”

Mac opened his mouth, couldn’t find the words to convince Jill to do as he asked, so simply offered a “Yes, ma’am,” before pointing his horse towards the lights and urging it into a swift canter.

Although he kept the lead, he could hear the pounding of hoofs behind him and knew Jill was close by.

As he approached the lights, he slowed the mare to a trot, and then pulled her up altogether.

The lights were coming from an old barn as Jill had suggested, but there was a smaller wooden structure next to it that also had light filtering through the cracks in the ancient wooden panels.

MacGyver decided it was too risky to ride any further and slid down to the ground with a grunt. He tied the mare’s reins around a small boulder and then hunkered down behind a larger one to watch what was going on – hopefully undetected.

Jill followed his lead and joined him, taking shelter behind the rock. “See anything?” She asked in a low voice.

Mac nodded and then pointed to the second wooden structure. “Take a look.” There was a sledgehammer tossed on the ground beside a large, splintered hole. “I think Massey smashed his way through the sidewall rather than busting the lock. Maybe he was still hoping the mustangs would get the blame – for the damage here, at least.”

“Try blaming Billy on the horses,” Jill huffed, her eyes filled with anger. “Show me a mustang that can point and shoot a twelve gauge!”

Mac was only half-listening.

There was movement inside the dilapidated building, and from what the troubleshooter could see, Massey had an oil lamp and was attempting to dig a hole.

It was what they’d expected to see, but it still sent a cold shiver down MacGyver’s spine.

How can one human being take another’s life with so little remorse?

Except, Massey hadn’t taken one life, he’d apparently taken three.

Jill has spotted what was going on too. “Now what? If we go for the sheriff then Massey will be long gone by the time we get back!”

“You wait here.” This time Mac’s tone was so compelling Jill was taken aback. “I need to go stop him, but I also need to know you’re gonna be safe.” His dark eyes locked onto hers and stayed there until she nodded without question, like he’d had some mad “Svengali” effect on her.

“I’ll wait, just as long as you come back…”

Mac smiled cheekily as if it was a given and then was gone before Jill could change her mind.

* * * *

The oil light in the outbuilding flickered ominously as MacGyver edged his way towards the opening Massey had made.

Strange shadows danced across the blackened, molding timbers like wraiths beckoning the troubleshooter closer.

MacGyver obliged them, flattening his body against the outside wall and then craning his neck just enough to see what Massey was up to.

The cowboy was still digging furiously, muttering unintelligible words as he slug dirt over his shoulder.

Will he hear me if I go in?

MacGyver risked it, slithering himself through the gap and over the sandy floor until he was standing behind Massey, about to make a grab for the shovel.

At the last moment, Massey finally sensed he had company and spun around, brandishing his spade like a weapon.

He balked when he realized who the newcomer was, his eyes blazing with some unknown emotion. “You?” He let the shovel drop just a little, as if he were hesitating.

Mac hoped that meant Massey would see sense. “It’s over, Roy, whatever you did all those years ago, it isn’t worth what you’re doing now.”

Massey puffed out a breath as if he thought MacGyver was joking, and the edges of his mouth ticked up into a smile that looked positively demonic. “Two murders, four murders, six murders – what do I care anymore? I’m an old man, I’d never see the outside again if I did time at my age.”

Mac stayed still, his gaze switching between the blade of the shovel and Massey’s insane expression. He doesn’t care. He’d do anything right now…

“Jill’s already gone for the sheriff,” Mac told a white lie, but it was worth it if he could take Massey without violence. “Why don’t you just give me that and tell me what happened?” He reached for the spade.

Massey flinched back, not ready to give his weapon up yet, but apparently ready to talk. “The original plan was just to put the developers off. Then when the roundup got under way, I was gonna come here, knock down the wall, move the bodies and then burn the barn. The stampeding horses would have gotten the blame, and if Billy got in the way, well he’d have been disposed of.” He paused and chuckled wryly. “Pretty much has been disposed of, actually.”

“C’mon,” Mac tried again in his best soothing voice. “You’ve nowhere to run to. Give it up.”

Massey’s eyes narrowed. “Aww hell, why not…” He threw the shovel, almost throwing MacGyver off balance as he caught it.

Mac steadied himself and threw it down behind him, not letting his eyes off the aging killer for a minute.

This was all too easy.

Massey wiped his grimy palms on his very dirty jeans and then stuck his right hand up in Mac’s face. “Well are you going to offer an old man a pull up outta this hole I dug myself into or not?”

MacGyver hesitated, part of his mind screaming that Massey was up to something, but he took the killer’s hand anyway.

It was a dumb move, and one he should have known better than to make.

Massey used his weight to pull Mac forwards, almost dragging him down into the hole with the recently disturbed skeletons.

Mac regained his balance just in time to teeter on the edge, before Massey slugged him with a left hook, spinning him sideways and face down in the dirt.

Mac coughed out dust and sand from his mouth and pushed up and onto his feet, only to see the very lively Massey racing out of the hole in the wall.

There was a split second when the older man had vanished into the darkness of night, but then he was back again, grinning, another oil lamp in his hand. “Thought I’d bring you a little gift to lighten up your evening,” he laughed ironically and then tossed the lamp onto a bale of straw in the corner of the room.

The straw ignited far too quickly, and MacGyver was forced back from the instant gush of heat it gave off. He placed his forearm over his face and made a dash for the exit, realizing Massey had doused the structure with gasoline.

The floor around him seemed to track the flames, and within seconds smoke engulfed the whole area.

MacGyver dived through the gap in the wall just in time, rolling out and across the ground outside in the hopes he wasn’t on fire too.

Massey had soaked everything he’d come into contact with like a pyromaniac gone rabid.

And the fireball he’d created didn’t end with the ranch buildings.

Flames were already creeping outside, into earth that had been drenched too.

Something hissed and crackled to Mac’s left, and as he turned to the sound he realized it was the brush around him turning into yet another man-made inferno.

The sound of an engine made him ignore the fire for just a moment. It was Massey in his truck, and he was getting away.

MacGyver tried to run after the vehicle as it slewed from side to side to avoid the blaze, but he was no match for the V8 on foot, not even over this ground.

Massey sped away, leaving a trail of dust behind that mingled with the rising tendrils of smoke from the fire.

A fire that was growing and spreading across the ground until it would soon encircle the buildings and anyone left near them.

“MacGyver! The horses!” Jill was sprinting towards their rides like an Olympian, but the animals were already spooked.

As she reached them and unfastened the reins, the brown mare jerked backwards so hard it almost pulled free.

Jill held fast until Mac was able to join her and then mounted her own ride. The horse snorted and stepped from side to side in agitation, its eyes bulging with fear.

As Mac climbed on the mare, it too began to dance a waltz of fear, jigging left and then right as it fought against MacGyver’s control.

More flames spread across the drenched earth in front of them, causing more brush to burst into flames where it too had been saturated with gas.

Jill shook her head in defeat as she struggled with her horse. “It’s no use, we’re cut off!”

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