by Lena North
“I’m here, Wilder.”
“What do I do until a Vet gets here?”
There was a long silence and then I could hear how he sighed.
“Do you have the keys to your gun safe?” he asked gently.
I froze because I knew what he meant, and he was right. The animals were suffering, and they shouldn’t have to.
“Wilder, you don’t have to. Rider is there, let him do it for –”
“No.” I cut him off. “It’s my land now, and my cattle. That makes it my responsibility,” I said.
I knew what I had to do, and I would do it.
“Sweetie,” he murmured, but I sensed that it wasn’t to try to stop me. It was to give me the strength I needed to do what I had to do. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.
“Mac…” I whispered and remained silent for a while. “Drive carefully,” I continued, and added, “but fast.”
“Yeah,” he murmured.
Then I closed the call, turned to the group of men and women who had gathered behind me, throwing the phone back to Uncle Andy.
“You all heard?” I asked, and they nodded with grim faces. They all knew that nitrate poisoning was. “Are the keys to the gun safe still in Willy’s office?” I asked Uncle Andy.
“Wilder, you should let me –” he started, but I got in his face immediately.
“No. It’s my responsibility,” I said with a calmness I did in no way feel. “They are suffering up there, and I will do whatever is needed to stop that. Annie is away for a week so you can help by finding her replacement and get him up here. Then you’re better at sorting out whatever needs to be done right here to help the herd.”
It looked like he was about to protest, so I put my hand on his arm.
“Uncle Andy, I need you to organize everything else. I don’t know how to do that, but you do. Please?”
His face was still grim, but his eyes softened, and he nodded, so I turned to the others, and ordered, “The rest of you have to start rounding up the heads that might make it down the mountain. Andy will find a Vet. If not, then a friend of mine is on his way, but it’ll take him five hours to get here, maybe four if he’s driving like the devil, and believe me he will. The herd had better be here when he rides in.”
They all nodded and started to spread out, and I heard Uncle Andy bark out more orders as I moved toward the house. Mickey followed me, and I turned to stop him, but he spoke before I could say a word.
“You are my best friend. In everything that counts, you are my sister. I will not let you do this alone.”
“I –”
“Don’t spend time on an argument you’ll lose, Wilder,” he barked angrily.
His face was set, and the glare in his eyes was beyond determined so I gave in with a curt nod, relieved that I wouldn’t have to do this alone. As we walked up the steps, I heard him shout to his mother to go and fetch his bike.
We got two rifles and ammunition out of Willy’s safe, together with harnesses so we could hang them on our backs. Neither of us was fond of hunting, but we had been shooting at targets for many years, both Willy and Uncle Andy had insisted on that. Then we roared up the mountain. My foot hurt with every bounce the bike made, but I pushed the pain away and focused on getting us back to where the cattle were.
The first one was the worst.
She was down on her side, and her body shook with convulsions. She made small pathetic attempts to get up, and I could see how afraid she was, and how much pain she was in.
“Easy, girl,” I murmured as I pulled the rifle from my back and loaded it.
She looked at me as I raised the rifle. Suddenly I got an odd feeling that she knew what I was about to do, but also that she accepted it, even welcomed it. Holding her gaze, I pulled in air and clenched my jaws. Then I pulled the trigger.
After that, it was just a blur. We walked around, Mickey and I, finding one animal after the other. Shots echoed repeatedly through the mountains and at first, I flinched with each one, but after a while, nothing mattered anymore. I stopped every now and then to rest, and to listen, hoping that I would only hear silence, wishing that it would be over. It seemed like it would never end.
The sounds from our guns made the rest of the cattle restless. Then horses were moving around us, and men were shouting, but that faded away as they moved the cattle toward Double H. I kept walking, listening for sounds from the ones in my herd that wouldn’t make it down the mountain with the rest. Raising my rifle, again and again.
Finally, it was over.
Mickey and I stood facing each other next to the tub I’d turned around. We had stains of blood on the lower parts of our jeans, and his face was gray. I suspected mine was too.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
I swallowed.
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s get down to the ranch,” I added hoarsely, and he nodded.
I had no clue how long we’d been up there. It felt like forever or no time at all, but I checked my phone and was surprised to see that we’d been away almost four hours. I had forty-seven missed calls, and I wondered if one of them was from Mac.
The ride back down was awful. My whole body hurt, and my foot worse than that. I suspected that I might have pulled the crack open again, and sighed when I realized that this would mean another couple of weeks with a cast and cane.
There was a flurry of activities going on when we reached Double H. A lot of men, and some women, were moving around, and I recognized most but not everyone. They had moved the cattle into two enclosures close to the main building. Uncle Andy seemed to have gotten hold of a veterinarian, and they dealt with part of the heard. Close to the other part of the herd stood a tall, black haired man. He was pointing at something and shouting an order. A sigh of relief escaped me when he turned around.
“Mac,” I whispered.
He was far away but it seemed like he heard me, or maybe he just saw my mouth form his name. Either way, he started walking toward us.
I got off the bike, but then I stood there, too tired to move. Too heartbroken to do anything at all. Mac reached me and stepped in close, putting his big hands on each side of my neck. I put my hands on his waist, underneath his warm jacket, and leaned my forehead on his chest. I felt tears burn in my eyes and swallowed furiously.
“How many?” he asked gently.
“Twenty-one,” I replied, and my voice hitched when I added, “and fourteen for Mickey.”
“Wilder, I’m so sorry,” he murmured and leaned his cheek on the top of my head.
“Yeah,” I said, turned my head to the side and stepped closer. His arms slid down, and he held me as I cried. Mickey was next to us, and he put a hand on my back, caressing it gently. I heard them talk quietly and finally I calmed down.
“Shit,” I sniffled. “I never cry.”
“Shooting twenty-one dying animals will do that to a girl,” Mac said calmly.
I pulled back a step to look at him. My foot hurt when I leaned on it, and he saw my wince before I could hide it.
“Cracked your foot again?” he asked. When I nodded, he tilted his head a little to the side and went on, “Brought your da, let him wrap it up for now and I’ll see to the rest out here, yeah?”
I turned slowly in the direction he indicated and sure enough, Hawker was standing there, looking dirty and tired. Miller and Kit were flanking him, and by the look of them, they had also helped out with my cattle.
Well shit, I thought. Now there was one more thing I owed my father thanks for, and I still wasn’t sure how much I wanted to be around the man at all.
“Hey,” I murmured.
“Yeah,” Hawker replied without looking at me. “I’ll deal with her foot, you’ll handle the animals, Mac?”
It was a question that really was an order, so Mac squeezed my shoulder slightly and walked off toward Uncle Andy. Hawker made a huffing sound and that was apparently an order too because Kit immediately foll
owed Mac.
“You’ll deal with the local guys and whoever else they bring in, Mill?” Hawker asked.
I had no clue what that meant, but Miller apparently understood because he nodded and walked away toward the stables, giving me a tight smile as he passed.
“Right. I’ll take a look at that foot now,” Hawker said, coming toward me.
Before I could protest, he lifted me into his arms and carried me inside.
Chapter Nine
Special Agent Dick
Inside, it was weirdly quiet after the mayhem and destruction that I’d been through for the past couple of hours. When Hawker placed me gently on the couch, I felt how my eyes started to sting, and I could tell that he noticed.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked softly.
“No,” I whispered.
I didn’t want to be alone with the images of all the sick animals bouncing around in my head, and it felt like my ears were still ringing from all the shots. Hawker crouched down in front of the couch and gave my cheek a gentle caress with the back of his hand.
“Please, Wilder,” he rumbled, “let me take care of you. Just a little while?”
“Okay,” I replied immediately, partially because it felt really good to have someone there to help me, but mostly because he looked so vulnerable when he asked me.
“Okay,” he echoed and got to his feet. “I’ll get a wrap for your foot, be right back.”
Before I could utter a word, he was gone. I tried closing my eyes, but all I could see was the look in the eyes of that first cow I had shot. I knew that I had done the right thing, but it still felt awful. I couldn’t stay still and was on my way to get off the couch when Hawker came back with a couple of towels and our medical kit. He speared me with a harsh glare, so I sat back down again with an angry huff that was totally fake.
With hands that were incredibly gentle, my father pulled off my shoes and socks, and then he started poking and twisting my injured foot around. It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would and the only real pain I felt was when he pressed underneath the arch.
“Doesn’t seem too bad,” he murmured. “I’ll wrap it up, and you’ll use the cane a day or two, see how it feels.”
“Hawker…” I whined. “Not the cane.”
“Use the cane, or go to the doctor tomorrow morning for new x-rays. Those are your options, girl,” he said sternly.
My laughter startled him, and he turned his face up toward me, arching a brow questioningly.
“You sound like a father, Hawker,” I explained and his face gentled.
“You might not like it, Wilder, but I actually am one, you know,” he said.
I looked into his eyes and watched how the flames from the fireplace made them seem almost golden in color. For the first time in my life, I didn’t think that the color looked weird, or ugly. I thought it was beautiful. Well, shit, I thought. Jinx had been right, again. I would have to listen to his explanations when he was ready to give them, and since he didn’t strike me as a man who did anything without a good reason, I’d likely have to forgive him and build some kind of relationship with him.
“I know,” I whispered, and the lines at the corners of his eyes deepened.
Then he bent his head and started to wrap my foot up, quickly and expertly. I wondered how many times he’d done that before and was about to ask when the door opened, and Miller walked in, followed by a small man with gray, short cropped hair and a beer gut.
The kitchen door opened at the same time, and I turned to watch Kit and Mac walk in, followed by Uncle Andy who carried my cane.
“Hawker,” Miller rumbled, and it sounded less like a greeting and more like a warning.
Hawker finished with the wrap, but I got a strange feeling that he wasn’t looking at my foot anymore. He seemed to zone out, losing himself in his thoughts somehow. Then he got to his feet and turned with a sigh. I got up too.
“Dickinson,” he greeted the man, calmly but not very friendly.
“Hawker,” the man replied. “It’s been a while,” he added blandly.
Then his eyes locked with mine. His jaw dropped for a second, but he collected himself quickly. Hawker put an arm behind my back and rested his hand on my shoulder.
“Miss Fratinelli, I’m sorry for the trouble you’re having,” the officer said.
“Johns,” my father rumbled angrily. “My daughter’s name is Wilder Johns.”
The other man’s mouth started moving, but I didn’t hear a word he said. I was completely stunned by what Hawker had called me. Of course. My parents had been married when I was born, so my name wasn’t Wilder Fratinelli or even Wilder Callaghan which was what I used most of the time. It was Wilder Johns.
“Hawker,” I suddenly heard the man say sourly. “There’s no need for you here.”
“Not for you to decide,” Hawker replied calmly.
“You have no jurisdiction –”
Hawker had straightened, and Miller, Kit, and Mac was suddenly lined up behind him. The small man straightened and it looked like he was about to say something unpleasant, but I couldn’t allow that.
“Hello Sir,” I said pleasantly and hobbled a step forward toward the man. “Welcome to Double H. I’m Wilder Johns, and this is my place,” I added politely.
He stared at me in an unpleasant and condescending way that I didn’t like at all.
“I didn’t catch your name. Dick, was it?” I asked, knowing well that it wasn’t but unable to stop myself.
The mood in the room changed immediately. The men moved slightly, and I saw Miller bend his head to hide a smile. My eyes met Mac’s, and his face was impassive, but his eyes were still laughing. I smiled back at him and turned my focus to the man standing in front of me.
“I’m Special Agent Dickinson,” he said sourly, and went on in the same tone, “I’ll be leading the investigation.”
“Investigation?” I asked, but I looked at my father when I did.
“Someone put the fertilizer out there, Wilder. We called the local police, and they must have called in reinforcements.”
“Actually, they didn’t. We are here because we got a call from Mr. Paolo Fratinelli. He heard what had happened and was very concerned about the situation,” Agent Dickinson said.
My mouth fell open, and I heard Hawker mutter something that sounded rude, and angry. To distract him, I quickly faked a stumble.
“Let’s sit down before Wilder topples over,” Mickey said loudly from the kitchen door.
He walked into the room carrying a huge plate full of sandwiches, and his mother followed with a tray full of mugs. The smell of blackcurrant tea was so normal that I almost laughed out loud. It felt completely out of place in the tense room.
Then we sat down on the couch and chairs around the fireplace. Gwendolyn handed me my pink cup and gave me a sweet smile. I smiled back, unable to do anything else. I would have to listen to her explanations as well, and I really hoped they were good.
“I was under the impression that you were Mr. Fratinelli’s daughter, Wilder?” Special Agent Dickinson asked.
He knew well that I wasn’t, and had known that since he saw me next to my father, so this was him irritating Hawker deliberately. I wasn’t sure what reaction this would get, and I didn’t want to find out, so I put a hand on Hawker’s knee, leaning forward.
“My mother was married to Paolo, but he is not my father,” I stated, and went on, “We are trying to adjust to losing my grandfather and my mother just a few weeks ago. Maybe that’s why Paolo is a bit overprotective.”
“Mr. Fratinelli was concerned about the financial situation at Double H, and thought that perhaps someone was killing your herd to help you get money from the insurance?” the agent said, making into a question but I got a weird feeling that it wasn’t.
“Double H does not have any financial problems,” Uncle Andy cut into our conversation angrily, “and Mr. Fratinelli has no insight
into the ranch whatsoever, so information from him is pretty much useless.”
“Of course,” the agent said affably. “But the fertilizer was planted there, and I’m sure you have insurance?” he asked me.
“Of course I have insurance,” I replied, hoping that I did.
“I understood from the veterinarian I met outside that the fertilizer would have been there since yesterday or maybe early this morning, and it could have been placed there by anyone,” Agent Dickinson said. Then he added, “You could have put it there yourself, Miss Fratinelli.”
The whole room exploded when he said that. All the men were on their feet instantly, and the already tense mood turned scary. Hawker towered over the agent, so close they almost touched. I got to my feet and walked up to stand next to my father.
“My daughter’s name is Wilder Johns, and you need to leave,” Hawker growled.
When the agent didn’t move, I thought Hawker would start pushing the man backward, so I spoke up quickly, tampering down my own anger.
“I’m sorry you had to come all the way up here for no reason at all. Our local police department will undoubtedly conduct an investigation that satisfies both me and the insurance company, as well as the appropriate authorities.”
“We –” he started, but I cut him off.
“I am under no obligation to answer questions from you, and I would prefer if you left. I need to call my friend, Sheriff Marks and discuss my problems.”
“I –”
This time, Mac interrupted him.
“Sheriff Marks is already outside, and he has a few of his men with him. You can talk to him later, Wilder.” He grinned at me and continued, using his persuasive voice, “You were asked to leave, Special Agent Dickinson. We’re done here, so I will walk you to your car,” he said, shuffling the agent in front of him through the door.
I turned to the room to look at the group of men who stood there, angry on my behalf and willing to fight for me. I’d felt safe with Willy, and when I lost him I thought I’d never have that feeling again, but right then I did, and the smile on my face was wide and happy.
“Well, that was interesting, wasn’t it?” I asked the group in general and turned to my angry father. “What the hell have you done to piss the man off to this degree, Hawker?”
