Shaking off the moment and the fear, she led the horse from the arena.
By the time she reached the roll-up door, Wolf Stockton was waiting for her, the black cat at his heels. She acknowledged them both with a glance and forced herself to smile. Then forced herself not to growl, when he matched his longer stride to hers.
“How long have you been doing that?” It was the kind of question that most often came with interviews. She could have answered in her sleep.
“Which aspect? Riding? Since I was capable of climbing on a pony when my parents weren’t watching. Stunt riding?” She paused, thinking. “Twelve or so, as soon as I was strong enough to put a stunt saddle on one of my dad’s animals without help.”
“Which I interpret to mean he didn’t consider you old enough or he would have helped you.”
“Not old enough. Not strong enough. Not skilled enough.”
“You proved him wrong?”
She snorted. “No, I proved him right with a broken arm.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes before he said, “But you got back on.”
She stopped and looked at him. “Why are you here?”
If he was startled by her blunt question, he hid it well. “Well, first off we’ve got the issue of the cat to settle.”
“No, we don’t. He’s not mine.”
He glanced down at the cat who had stopped when they stopped and waited on his haunches as they talked. “I don’t think he agrees with you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, let’s table the first issue. What’s next?”
“I saved your life. That makes me responsible for you.”
“I’m not Chinese and I doubt you are either,” she retorted, proving she’d heard the same proverb he had at some point in her life. “Besides, who was trying to kill me?”
“I’m not sure you weren’t.”
His voice had softened, lost its playfulness. Unexpected tears burned her eyes. She turned, tugging on the reins in her hands as a flash of anger swept her at his words. No one saw her cry. Not even Jake, although he saw a lot of the other messy aspects of her life.
She didn’t lose the man, or the cat, as she strode past though she planned to rid herself of his presence the moment they reached the barn. Yes, she found him startlingly attractive, something she hadn’t let herself notice in men in a long time. The fact that she’d noticed this man was more alarming than it was welcome. But, no, he wasn’t welcome in her life.
She stepped onto the gravel drive between the barns and the covered arena then heard the roar of an engine and tires sliding on rock. In the same moment she felt Wolf pushing her behind him. Her first frantic thought was the safety of her horse and she leaned her body into the muscles of his shoulder to keep him from moving forward into the path of the vehicle.
Rocks spewed out from under the oversized tire closest to her and she felt a sharp sting on her cheekbone. Her gasp drew a quick look and a hard curse from Wolf. She didn’t need to raise her hand to her face to know there was a trickle of blood.
The young woman who opened the door and flung herself from behind the wheel of the truck stumbled as she whirled, scanning the jumble of vehicles around her. Her frantic gaze fell on Kylah and Wolf. “The sheriff! I was told he was here!”
Wolf pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll get him. Is someone hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”
“I don’t know what I need.” Her words came out in harsh gasps. “I don’t know what’s happened. I need to find Maisy! There’s a barricade at our camp.” Tears leaked from her eyes.
Kylah’s heart sank. Maisy McGuire was the murder victim and this woman was somehow connected to her. Beside her, she could hear Wolf talking to the sheriff.
Wolf put away his phone. “The sheriff is close and on his way.” He looked at Kylah. “Could we all step into your trailer?”
So much for getting rid of him, she thought, handing her horse off to Jake who waited at the barn entrance. She led the way to her living quarters and didn’t even sigh as the black cat followed them in. Her life seemed to have taken a very weird turn and she wasn’t sure how much to blame on pure happenstance and how much to lay at her own door.
As they waited for the sheriff, she started the coffeemaker. Neither new nor fancy, it made the best coffee. She wasn’t surprised when Wolf took his black and unsweetened. Their eyes met as she handed him a cup and she saw his discomfort with the situation they shared, knowing the young woman’s friend was dead and not knowing if they should be the ones to tell her. So, they hadn’t.
Her name was Ella, she’d told them, Ella Necaise. After that she’d fallen silent, twisting and untwisting the plain copper bracelet on her wrist. Even seated, she was tall, with dark hair and uneven features that were more attractive than they should have been, particularly given the fact that her face was bare of any type of makeup. She declined Kylah’s offer of coffee with a quick shake of her head.
Because it was too painful to watch her, Kylah focused on the black cat who had made himself comfortable on the small steps that led up to her sleeping area. He met her look without blinking until a sharp rap on the door heralded the sheriff’s arrival.
Opening the door, Kylah stepped over to sit beside the cat on the steps and the sheriff took her spot leaning against the counter of the kitchenette. He looked from Kylah to Wolf to Ella, then back to Kylah.
“What happened to you?” he barked.
She raised a hand to her cheek where his gaze had landed. She’d forgotten about the cut. “A rock. It was an accident.”
He stared a moment more, then looked at Ella who was staring at the cut on Kylah’s face, “You knew Maisy McGuire?”
The blood drained from the other woman’s face, leaving her sickly white. The sheriff’s tone had been quiet and not unkind but Kylah wished he’d chosen his words more carefully. Ella’s eyes filled with pain. “What happened to her? What happened to Maisy?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. “She was murdered.” And for that, Kylah knew, there was no easy way to convey.
Ella shook her head dazedly. She closed her eyes for a brief moment as tears seeped from beneath her lashes. “I don’t believe you. I don’t! No one would hurt Maisy.” With a shuddering breath, she looked from one to the other of them.
“Do you know her family? We haven’t been able to contact anyone. We need someone to confirm her identity.”
“Her family disowned her years ago. Me and Maisy … we’re partners.”
Kylah caught on quicker than either Wolf or the sheriff. Not working partners, although perhaps that, too. Life partners. Best friends and more. She sighed, feeling a familiar weight of sadness.
Ella got to her feet. “I’ll go with you. I’ll –” Her voice cracked and stopped.
As she stood facing the sheriff, he asked, “When was the last time you saw Ms. McGuire?”
Ella’s head dropped. “Last night. Late. We had a stupid argument over something that never mattered anyway. I slept in my truck at a rest stop and came back to apologize.”
The sheriff put his hat back on his head. “After we go to the …” He stopped. “Later we can go by my office and you can help with some questions.”
“Yes. Of course.” She looked numb.
As the door closed behind them, Wolf looked across at Kylah. “I think Ms. Necaise just became a suspect.”
Chapter Five
I feel compelled to show Mr. Wolf Stockton those footprints if they haven’t already been obliterated through lackadaisical management of the crime scene. Were I in charge, much more of the area would have been cordoned off. Not that the crime scene investigators broke protocol – they didn’t – they met all requirements. Just barely.
I haven’t yet determined if Wolf is a member of law enforcement but he has an air about him that points that way even though he is not in uniform. I can but hope the prints are still at least somewhat intact. But how I accomplish getting Wolf to accompany me is
going to be a bit tricky. He may prove much more interested in remaining here to chat up the stunt lady. I must see how persuasive I can be.
Like Wolf, I believe that Ms. Ella is now a suspect, at least as far as the law is concerned, and her size does not rule her out when matched with my recall of the prints in the soft soil of the hollow where the deed was done. She is statuesque, not dainty, with a solid foundation in those lace-up boots she wore. It is unfortunate those lace-ups left no discernable tracks in the gravel of the road, no treads I could capture mentally to use for comparison.
It takes me a moment to get Wolf away from Kylah and moving in the proper direction. At his insistence, she washed the cut caused by the rock and applied some sort of antiseptic before opening the door with the comment that she has work yet to do.
Sure enough, Jake awaits her exit with yet another saddled horse. It is clear to me that he knows her well enough to discern her next move will be back to work.
A growl and a nip or two at denim clad legs and a resolute circling of some comfortable looking boots that didn’t come from any bargain store and I’m pleased to have Wolf following at my heels.
* * *
Wolf felt ridiculous. There was no other word for it. He was following a cat through the line of trees beyond the last scattered outbuildings on the fairgrounds. But there was also little doubt in Wolf’s mind that the cat had herded him with deliberate intent. Wolf just wasn’t sure to what end.
As curious as he was, his mind was still halfway back with Kylah West. She intrigued him even as he reminded himself that her life wasn’t here and she’d be gone within a week or two. He also reminded himself that, except for an occasional one-night stand, his own life worked far better without a woman in it.
He gathered his thoughts back to the cat in front of him as they broke through a stand of trees at the base of a small hill. The first thing he saw was the barricade tape, fluttering in the soft breeze. The second thing was one of the sheriff’s deputies glaring at his approach.
Recognizing Wolf, the other man relaxed. “Stockton. What the hell you doing out here?”
Might as well be honest. “Following the cat.”
“Huh?”
“He pretty much herded me in this direction. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” See, Wolf told himself. Ridiculous. The whole thing.
The deputy gave him a blank look, probably suspecting a joke. “Sheriff bringing you in on this?”
“Seems so. Thought I might as well take a look around while the area is secure.”
He watched as the cat gave the deputy a dismissive glance then circled him and the barricade to the other side. Wolf was given one backwards glance and a chastising yowl. He shrugged at the deputy and followed the cat a short distance away, stopping where the cat stopped. He glanced down. “So far, you are a significant amount of trouble.”
The cat grumbled a purr, then sat. He looked up at Wolf then down at the ground in front of him. When Wolf made a move forward, he hissed, and Wolf took a backward step, taking a closer look at the ground. At their obvious scrutiny, the deputy joined them, studying the faint prints along with Wolf. “Could belong to anyone. Dozens of reenactors already wandering these grounds.”
“Yep.” Wolf pulled out his cell phone.
“I’m sure the crime scene techies or whatever they call themselves these days took pictures.”
“Yep.” Wolf took several stills of the prints, then made a video of their approach to the barricaded area, including two disturbed spaces side by side within inches of the table. It looked as if casts had been made. He hadn’t missed the paint outline of the deceased behind that table. It would appear the forensics experts deduced the killer had stood there but at what point? As he pulled the trigger? Afterward, as he approached his victim? Wolf knew he needed to review the crime scene report as fast as Sheriff Mitchell could get his hands on it.
Wolf wandered the exterior of the barricade, taking several more shots of footprints. None were as defined as the first set which appeared to be made while the ground was still damp with morning dew. And none but the first set had drawn the cat’s interest. Wolf didn’t even like where his own mind was going with that thought.
He stepped back to take a panoramic scan of those before he slid his phone away and looked down at the cat. “Come on, Trouble.” It was as good a name as any, and he couldn’t keep calling him cat.
* * *
I like a nice, obedient human, not to mention one intelligent enough to make a logical deduction regarding my name. Not the first time this has happened, mind you, but always gratifying. As we make our way back to the fairground proper, Wolf gives me a look. “Well, what’s it to be? I’m headed for the lake and fishing. Are you going with me or staying here?”
Hmmm. This requires a bit of thought. It’s been a busy morning but must now be nearing or just past the noon hour and more than time for a meal. I think it dubious that Kylah has anything of interest in that home on wheels of hers. Will she be safe enough with this Jake who seems as much friend as employee? At least for the daylight hours with all its hustle and bustle? I believe it would behoove me to wander further afield with this bloke. I’ve gleaned from his exchange with the deputy guarding the crime scene that he is, indeed, a lawman with ties to the murder investigation. Now that we have a relationship, as it were, he could be a good source of information for me. Beyond that, a human fishing expedition could provide the enticing possibility of a nice fish fillet.
I will return by dark to resume lending Kylah my protection – at least until this murder is solved. In all honesty, I don’t know that she’s in any true danger from either the killer or her own reckless behavior. Last night seems an aberration in her typical day. Even so, I feel I can be of more use here than with my own beautiful human, at least for now.
Tammy Lynn will be talking books another day or so and I find this reenactment scenario much more interesting. What bipeds will think of next for their entertainment is beyond me. However, I’ve become partial to horses after my sojourn at Summer Valley Ranch and I’m fascinated by the idea of teaching horses to perform as actors on a stage.
* * *
Wolf called Logan Yates on his way to the boat launch. If anyone had their finger on a pulse of possible unrest on the Boundary – about the pending arrival of a hoard of reenactors or for any other reason – it would be his best friend.
Logan, always up for fishing on a Sunday afternoon, met him at the marina, which was a pretty fancy name for the long, low frame building that housed a little diner and bait shop. The lake more than made up for that manmade homeliness with a fringe of leafy trees on grassy banks. In places the roots of the trees were visible above the water line, an intricate network of dark brown against the vivid green of the grass.
Logan’s Native blood was more predominant than Wolf’s but his looks showed it less. His hair was lighter, more brown than black and his eyes were hazel. Wolf had started ragging Logan about being a pretty boy when they hit their teens and the girls started chasing him. Wolf had gotten himself caught. Logan never had, at least not where a ring and ceremony were involved.
They shook hands once, hard, in their typical greeting and Logan’s eyes dropped to the feline trailing him. “Yours?”
Wolf followed his glance. “Not long term. He kinda latched onto me last night in town.” He didn’t mention the stunt rider who’d also latched onto him and said, you can take me home. Or the fact that he’d been blindsided by an unexpected attraction that hadn’t receded.
Before hitting the lake, they grabbed hamburgers – including one for the cat – along with fries and a couple of beers and sat at one of the outside tables. The weather was too good to be inside.
They ate in silence until Logan asked, “What’s up?”
Wolf grunted then asked, “What gave it away?”
Logan snorted a laugh. “Thirty or so years of friendship?”
“How does the Boundary feel about this reenactment?”
Logan took another bite of his hamburger, watching the juice drip from his fingers onto his plate. His expression was one of sheer appreciation but Wolf wasn’t fooled. Logan wasn’t thinking about the food in front of him, much as he might be enjoying it.
“The Boundary? As in the creeks and the hills and the meeting place?”
“Don’t give me that ethereal bullshit. How do the people feel about it?”
“If you came around more, you’d know.”
“I’m there every damned day,” Wolf said without heat. This was an old almost argument. They’d get through it and move on.
“You work there every damned day,” Logan clarified.
“You live off the Boundary, too.”
Wolf’s reminder had its usual non-effect on Logan. “But I do more than work there. I play. I visit the old people. I talk with the young people.”
“I work with young people every day. I just don’t happen to limit it to my people.” And the Eastern Band … they were his people. Always would be. Logan knew it and that was why there was no heat in their exchange.
“What you do with the teens is a good thing, Waya.” The use of his Cherokee name was as affectionate as it was intentional. “We both know that. Too many would end up dead by their own hands if it weren’t for people who give them hope. People like you.” With that acknowledgement, Logan abandoned their wordplay. “So, what are you worried about with this reenactment?”
“Any disquiet? Any frustration? Or anger?”
Logan finished his hamburger and wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “Bound to be a little,” he admitted. “The old folks are grumbling but they grumble about something all the time. The kids are excited. A parent or two may be worried their young person will see a better life than what they have here.” He crossed his arms on the rough wooden planks of the table and leaned forward. His eyes narrowed. “Someone made some mischief already.”
Trouble in Action Page 5
