“Wow,” she said.

“‘Wow’ is right,” Joe agreed.

“Antelope bore me,” Julie said. “There are so many of them.”

For a moment he had been concerned that the lead antelope was going to barrel into the passenger door, something that occasionally happened when a pronghorn wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. That was all he needed, Joe thought sourly, another damaged pickup Pope could carp about.

That’s when the call came over the mutual-aid channel.

Joe said, “Would you two please be quiet for a minute?”

While the entire county was sheriff’s department jurisdiction, game wardens and highway patrolmen were called on for backup for rural emergencies.

Sheridan hushed. Julie did too, but with attitude, crossing her arms in front of her chest and clamping her mouth tight. Joe turned up the volume on the radio. Wendy, the dispatcher, had not turned off her microphone. In the background, there was an anxious voice.

“Excuse me, where are you calling from?” Wendy asked the caller.

“I’m on a cell phone. I’m sitting in my car on the side of the highway. You won’t believe it.”

“Can you describe the situation, sir?”

The cell-phone signal ebbed with static, but Joe could clearly hear the caller say, “There are three men in cowboy hats swinging at each other with shovels in the middle of the prairie. I can see them hitting each other out there. It’s a bloody mess.”

Wendy said, “Can you give me your location, sir?”

The caller read off a mile marker on State Highway 130. Joe frowned. The Bighorn Road they had just driven on was also Highway 130. The mile marker was just two miles from where they had turned onto the ranch.

“That would be Thunderhead Ranch then, sir?” Wendy asked the caller.

“I guess.”

Joe shot a look toward Julie. She had heard and her face was frozen, her eyes wide.