An absolutely enchanting slideshow featuring mysterious Caddo Lake.  The photos were taken by a NY Times reporter during his trip to the area.  Be sure to read the companion article.

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2009/05/22/travel/escapes/20090522-caddo-slideshow_index.html

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Bones of Skeleton Creek is my new mystery novel in progress.  Buck McDivit is on the trail of modern-day rustlers in Logan County, Oklahoma.  When he and Trey Calderham, agent for the Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association, locate the holding pen for an illegal cattle operation, an unexpected encounter ensues.  Here is a short, unedited excerpt from the first draft of Bones of Skeleton Creek:

“You drive.  Someone might recognize me if we get stopped.”  Crawling into the back, he grabbed a digital single lens reflex camera.  “I’m going to take a few pics through the portholes.”

       Trey settled in behind the wheel and started down the road.  They soon reached a tiny settlement complete with mobile homes, ramshackle buildings and cars without wheels, residing on blocks.

       A half-dozen Harley’s sat parked outside one of the trailers.  The weather was warm, but a thin strand of smoke puffed from a pipe in the trailer’s ceiling.

       “Crack house,” Trey said.  “I’d bet money on it.”

       Buck snapped  several pictures and then moved to the opposite side of the van for a few shots out the other side.

       “Check the truck out in front of that little house.  It’s the same one from Paseo.”

       “Damn sure is,” Trey said.  “Did you get the tag number?”

       “Got a picture of it,” Buck answered.  “Did you notice that there isn’t a mailbox anyplace?”

       “Yeah, and there’s a pit bull in every backyard.  Where do we go from here?”

       “Keep following the blacktop.  This road would be red clay unless there were something important on the end of it.”

       Trey continued driving through the little development, the last mobile home soon giving way to blackjacks and scrub brush.  About two more miles down the narrow road, they located what they were looking for, a holding pen for stolen cattle.  What they actually found was something neither had suspected.

       “Take a look at that,” Trey said.

       Buck was looking and could hardly believe his eyes.  Gone were the ticky-tacky mobile homes, replaced by several acres of a world class cattle operation.  Steel fencing, painted a fresh white, encircled a holding pen that held a hundred or more mixed breed cattle.  A large barn, feeding troughs and cutting pens painted the picture of a large and expensive cattle operation.

       “Holy cow!” Buck said.

       “Got that right.  Do you see what I see?”

       Buck had already noticed that there were several different breeds present in the large holding pen.

       “What do you make of it?” he asked.

       “They must come from different herds.  I don’t know of a farm in Oklahoma that raises this many different breeds.  I’m going to get some blood samples.”

       An armed man appeared from the barn when Trey stepped out of the van, carrying his black bag.  Dressed in jeans, worn boots and cowboy hat, the man waved his shotgun in a menacing and convincing manner.

       “Who the hell are you?” he asked.

       “I’m the vet.  Your people called me about a bacterial infection.  I need to check out these cows and take some blood samples.”

       “No one told me anything about a vet,” the man said, still brandishing his shotgun.  “I’ll have to call it in.”

       “Fine.  I’ll just get started because this might take a while.”

       The cowboy started to say something but thought better of it, took the cell phone from the pocket of his checkered western shirt and dialed someone.  Trey was already in the pen and taking his first sample.

       “My boss don’t know anything about you being here,” the cowboy said after closing his flip phone and returning his attention to Trey.

       “That’s because I’m up from Texas.  I was part of the operation down there and just moved up to help out.  It doesn’t matter anyway. These cows are all infected and I don’t have the correct vaccine with me to treat them but I’ll be back.”

       Trey vaulted the fence and headed for the van before the addled cowboy could question him further.  Opening the passenger door, he said, “Lets get the hell out of here.”

       Buck didn’t need to be prompted, pulling away as soon as Trey slammed the door.

       “Do any good?” Buck asked as they hurried away down the road.

       “I only had time to take two samples but that should be enough to tell us what we need to know.”

       “Then we scored a home run.”

“Not quite,” Trey said as they rounded a corner and found their path blocked by two pickup trucks and a half-dozen armed men.

Eric’s Web