Priscilla smiled wickedly and picked up the phone.

In his private pickup truck Clete picked up the sleazy young pusher out on the road where he had said. Johnny climbed in and lit a cigarette.

"I guess I don't have to ask what this is for," Johnny said, blowing a thick cloud of smoke and handing the sheriff a small packet. "DesirЋe Mitchell?"

"Denning now, but shut your face," Clete said sharply. "What makes you think it's for her?"

Johnny chuckled. "Just guessed. Where we going?"

Clete spurred the pickup along the road. "I might need your help for something." He nodded his head at a burlap bag on the floor. "We're going to create a need for a twenty thousand-dollar bounty on that dog's head."

"How's that?" Johnny asked, reaching into the bag and coming out with a strange object. It was a garden cultivating tool used for raking flower beds, a five-clawed affair, but it was obvious that the ends had been sharpened on a grinder to a razor-like sharpness. There was also a plastic bag full of what looked like animal hair and – shock horror – a large dried animal's foot that looked like it came from a dog. "What's this?"

"That's a little instrument for making tooth marks on livestock."

"What kind of hair is this?"

Clete grinned. "Dog hair. German Shepherd dog hair, and a foot for making a few tracks."

"Oh," Johnny grunted, understanding nothing. "What's it all about, then?"

Clete shook his head scornfully. "I think you've been getting high on your own supply," he said. "We're going to go out an kill a few cows with the tool and leave some dog hair on the carcasses. Got it?"

"Yeah, but why?"

Clete shook his head disdainfully. "I've been trying to talk the town council into putting a price on the dog's head. So I kill a few of their cattle, councilors animals too, and they'll be happy to do it. Then we'll do it again until they raise it to twenty grand. Councilors aren't so apathetic when it's their cows that are getting ripped up."