“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, have you had any unpleasant interactions with the other local ranchers? Any conflicts?”

Frank shook his head. “Ma’am, we private ranching folks consider ourselves a community. We can’t afford to hold grudges or be petty about stuff. In fact—”

Megan cut in. “Let me explain. All of the wives around here know each other. We exchange recipes, borrow cups of sugar, help each other out. It’s the only way to make ends meet. Us O’Reillys will gladly lend a bull to stud over at the Hanfords’, and they cut us a deal for fresh hay. Heck, we even make beef deals with the Glenfords who own the resort down in Coyote Springs so we can get access to their contacts for cheap corn. You see, we’re all small-business types who can’t afford to be bickering like you see on the TV. If you’re bickering and holding grudges, that means you don’t have enough work to do.”

Frank gave Megan’s knee a squeeze. “I love you, woman.”

Agent Ragheb smiled and scribbled something in her notebook. “Has anything unusual happened around here recently? Or have you seen anyone around that you might not know really well?”

Frank said no just as Megan said yes.

Megan reached over and rubbed Frank’s upper arm. “It’s just that, my husband’s been diagnosed with cancer and he’s being treated. That’s pretty unusual for us.”

Agent Carrington said somberly, “I’m very sorry you’re having to go through that.”

Frank waved away the words. “I don’t think about it much.” He hitched his thumb back toward Megan and smiled. “She worries plenty for the both of us. Besides, I’ve gotten treatment at the VA, and they’re doing a bang-up job.”

“You’re a veteran?” Carrington said.

“Yes, sir. I was an eleven bravo with the Twenty-Fourth Infantry out of Fort Stewart.” Frank allowed his mind to drift back to what seemed like a lifetime ago. “Back in Desert Storm, it was us and the Third Armored Cavalry in the Euphrates River Valley, cutting off part of Saddam’s army that had gone into Kuwait.”

“February 1991,” Carrington said. “I remember it well. I was in the area.”

“Oh?” Frank smiled. “What was your MOS?”

“Eighteen bravo.”

“Oh, damn.” Frank shook hands again with the agent. “It’s good to talk to someone who walked the same sand.”

Megan tapped Frank and whispered, “Eighteen bravo?”

“Special Forces,” he explained.

“Nate.” Ragheb turned to her partner. “Is there anything else you want to ask Mr. or Mrs. O’Reilly?”

“Not at this moment.” Carrington glanced at his watch. “Well, we’ve got EOD at the incident’s location—”

“Are they going to blow the pasture up?” Frank asked nervously.