Familiar Showdown

by Caroline Burnes

  “Easy, boy,” she whispered.

  The stallion’s muzzle pushed at her neck, a whisper-soft caress.

  She couldn’t lose him. Not now. He’d not only come around, he’d saved her life at the risk of his own.

  Her fingers moved along his hide until at last she found the wound. The bullet had entered above his shoulder at the point where his neck began, and it appeared to have exited near his withers.

  “Okay, fella,” she said, trying to comfort and reassure him. A week ago she’d never have believed the stallion would trust her enough to let her take care of him. Now, though, he stood rock solid. His trust in her made her even more anxious. To win the heart of such an animal was the highest of honors, her grandfather had taught her. Now she fully understood what he’d meant.

  Black Jack, like Familiar, was a rare creature. His presence in her life was a blessing from the Great Spirit, as her grandfather would say. Whether he’d been sent specifically to save her life or to teach her this valuable lesson, she couldn’t say. It didn’t matter. The only thing that counted now was to save him and then to make sure he was loved and honored for the rest of his days.

  She held her jacket against the wound, applying as much pressure as she could. Black Jack stood stoically, never flinching or trying to evade her ministrations.

  Johnny had opened the door of the SUV and was tending to Rory. She heard the helicopter drawing closer with every second. Help was on the way for Rory. In no time they could fly him to the hospital in Custer or even Rapid City. He’d get the best medical care. And then he’d face the consequences of his actions.

  The thought left her feeling nothing. Rory had walked down a long and crooked path. She didn’t want him to die, but she couldn’t concern herself with the justice he now deserved.

  The stallion’s blood soaked through her jacket, but she kept pressing. If she didn’t stanch the flow, he would bleed to death right there. She couldn’t allow that. She wouldn’t.

  “How’s Black Jack?” Johnny called as he helped Rory out of the car and stretched him on the ground.

  “I can’t apply enough pressure to stop the blood.” She heard the panic in her own voice.

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” He leaned over Rory, said something and pointed to the helicopter, which was landing fifty yards away. Then he raced to Stephanie’s side.

  His larger, stronger hands pressed on top of hers as he put his considerable strength into trying to seal the wound. Black Jack staggered again and almost dropped to his knees, but he managed to stand.

  “What are we going to do?” Stephanie asked. She realized that she was crying. “He’s dying right in front of me and I can’t stop it.”

  Johnny pressed so hard she thought her hands would break. “Just keep pushing,” Johnny whispered. “Push the blood back in. Visualize it.”

  She was surprised at the power in his voice, and she thought of her grandfather. Once he’d found a wolf caught in a leghold trap set by some illegal hunters. He’d opened the trap and released the wolf, and then he’d carried the young creature back to his ranch.

  The wolf’s leg had been badly damaged, and Running Horse was afraid the limb needed to be amputated. But he held off, and he sat with the wolf, rubbing the leg and talking to the wild creature.

  “Dream of running,” he said to the wolf. “Feel the dirt and grass beneath your paws. Feel the cool dew as you run.” He’d talked to the wolf as he rubbed and manipulated the damaged leg.

  And the wolf began to heal. In a matter of six weeks, the wolf was running with only the slightest trace of a limp. When Running Horse walked him into the woods to set him free, the wolf ran twenty yards away, and then he’d turned and howled before he disappeared into the wild.

  “I couldn’t have had the leg amputated,” Running Horse told her later. “A three-legged wolf can’t survive in the wild, and to keep a wild creature captive is wrong.”

  “You would have put him down?” Stephanie had asked, shocked at the idea.

  “To allow a creature to follow its nature is what we must do,” he said. “For wolves as well as young girls.”

  It wasn’t an answer, but Stephanie had taken the lesson as her grandfather intended. The power of healing had much to do with the belief that healing could occur. She saw the wound in Black Jack’s glossy hide begin to close. She put every fiber of her being into seeing that.

  Her eyes were closed and she felt the pressure of Johnny’s hands lessen. When she opened her eyes, he was staring into the gaze of the stallion. Several men were running from the helicopter toward them. They all carried weapons, but two also carried medical bags. Johnny met the federal agents, and after a brief discussion, a team of agents headed toward the ranch to round up the thugs that had gone there. Johnny returned to her and Black Jack. He kissed her cheek. “The bleeding has stopped. If you want to fly to the hospital with Rory, I’ll take care of Black Jack.”

  She only shook her head. “I’m staying,” she said. “With you and the horse.”

  “Meow.”

  She looked down and Familiar was at her feet. He put a paw on her knee and rubbed against her leg.

  “And Familiar,” she added. “I’m staying with my guys.”

  “Whatever you think best,” Johnny said before he turned and walked away.

  Stephanie started to go after him, but she stopped. She followed him with her gaze until he began talking with a man who appeared to be in charge. The federal agent looked like a movie star playing the president.

  IT’S NOT EVEN BREAKFAST TIME, and Rory has been loaded into a helicopter, along with a pair of handcuffed criminals. Carlos Diego finally regained consciousness, but he wasn’t talking at all. And Plenty, that sicko, tried to wake up but Stephanie whacked him again. Probably not in the handbook of how to treat a federal prisoner, but no one seemed upset by Miss Cowgirl’s actions. Except they had to lug the big oaf to the helicopter, which strained a few backs.

  The medics that the Omega man brought along took a look at Black Jack. The bullet went through the muscle of his neck. It nicked some kind of major artery, but since the bleeding has stopped, the consensus is that Black Jack will heal just fine. They did a little suturing and bandaging. It’s now a matter of getting him home.

  The problem is that it’s a long walk home, and Stephanie is afraid the wound will reopen en route. The medic did his best, but that part of a horse doesn’t lend itself to stitches or bandaging. I guess a horse-to-horse transfusion is out of the question. At least out here on the range.

  There’s something eating at Johnny. He’s too quiet. He went back to the canyon and retrieved Rascal, and he hasn’t said a word since his return. And Miss Cowgirl looks like she’s been run over by a tank. I did notice, though, that she’s still wearing the earrings, yet no one has mentioned them and what they mean.

  I wish I’d had a chance to grill Rory Sussex. What was he thinking when he took the microchip? A man like Carlos Diego doesn’t allow people to steal from him. It’s part of the code. So Rory had to know this would end badly for all involved. Especially Stephanie, who is truly an innocent in this mess.

  Once again, another example of biped logic—as if such a thing exists. Talk about an oxymoron.

  But it’s head ’em up and move ’em out, get them doggies movin’. We’re starting that long trek back to Running Horse Ranch. Black Jack is able to walk, but it’s going to be a slow, drawn-out journey.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Stephanie closed the gate on the corral, checking the horses one more time to be sure they were all safe and accounted for. The sight of them, the golden October sun glinting off their hides, touched her heart in a profound way. They were home. Even Black Jack was eating hay in his round pen. His injuries weren’t life-threatening. Hance Bevins had flown a specialist from Rapid City to examine the stallion. The gunshot, miraculously enough, would leave no serious aftereffects.

  Even Tex had managed to survive his adventure on the open range wit
h no serious repercussions. His leg would take a little longer to heal, but it would mend and he would be fine. The vet had advised giving him at least two days of rest before Johnny trailered him away.

  Stephanie looked at the round pen where Johnny stood, one booted foot cocked on the lower rail, while he fed Black Jack some carrots.

  They’d done the vet work and rounded up the horses, and Johnny still hadn’t said a word to her. He was clearly upset, but all her attempts to explain her actions had been rebuffed.

  Once he’d taken the earrings from her and turned them over to his boss, he hadn’t even glanced her way.

  “Meow.”

  She bent down to scoop Familiar into her arms. “Something tells me you’re hungry,” she whispered against his silky fur. “Well, so am I. What say we rustle up some grub and see if Johnny will come in and eat with us?”

  Maybe he’d confront whatever was troubling him over some chow. If she trapped him in the kitchen, she might be able to force the issue. Out on the ranch, he simply came up with another chore to do so he could walk away from her.

  “Me-ow!”

  Familiar was adamant about food, so she carried him into the house. She selected trout that a friend had caught and put the fish in the sink to thaw. She had fixings for a fresh salad.

  It would take a little while to prepare the food, so she found heavy whipping cream for Familiar. As he lapped up the cream, she stroked his fur.

  “You aren’t mad at me for trying to help Rory,” she said. “I wish Johnny would understand.”

  Familiar glanced up, his eyes narrowing. Using one paw he delicately slapped the ring finger of her left hand.

  Stephanie hesitated. Was the cat trying to tell her something?

  “Meow!” Familiar put his paw on her finger and gently extended his claws. “Meow.”

  “My engagement ring?” she asked. She’d taken it off when she heard that Rory was dead. She hadn’t known what to do with it. She’d put it in her jewelry box until the day someone had scattered the contents of the box on her bed. Then she’d absentmindedly placed it on her ring finger. “What about the ring?”

  Familiar sighed deeply. He left the saucer of milk and walked to the photograph of her and Rory. In the picture they both smiled into the camera as if they had the world by the tail.

  “Meow.” When Familiar had her full attention, he took his paw and pushed the photograph off the shelf and onto the floor. The glass shattered with a loud crash.

  “Familiar! You did that deliberately.” Stephanie’s first reaction was annoyance. Then it slammed her like a ton of bricks. “But I don’t love Rory. I’m beginning to wonder if I ever did.”

  Familiar jumped to the window and patted the glass.

  She went to stand beside him. She had a clear view of Johnny as he stacked the charred debris of her barn. He was cleaning up. He’d told her he’d get as much done beforehand as he could.

  Before what? She’d been afraid to ask him. Because she didn’t want him to leave Running Horse Ranch.

  His career as a federal agent was over. He hadn’t told her that, but he didn’t have to. She saw it clearly in the way he’d talked to his boss. In the fact that he hadn’t asked her for the earrings but had waited for her to voluntarily give them up. In the way that he made it clear to everyone that her safety and the welfare of Black Jack and the other horses were his top priorities.

  Yes, Johnny had shown her his heart.

  And what had she shown him? She’d sneaked away in the dead of night to risk her life—and his—to save her ex-dead fiancé, a man who’d deliberately put her and everything she loved in harm’s way.

  “Oh, damn,” she said, turning to toss the dish towel in her hand onto the table. “I’ll be right back, Familiar,” she said as she turned and ran out the door.

  JOHNNY SLIPPED THROUGH the slats of the round pen and walked up to Black Jack. The stallion pushed him in the chest with his muzzle with enough force that Johnny stumbled.

  “Good to see that you’re feeling better,” Johnny said, stroking the uninjured side of his neck. “You gave us a scare, big fella. And you also saved Stephanie’s life. For that I owe you.”

  Black Jack whickered softly and shook his head.

  “I don’t think Rupert Casper’s going to be troubling you anymore,” Johnny said. “He’s on his way to a stretch in a federal prison. Good things happen to bad people.”

  Black Jack nodded, snorting slightly.

  “When Casper decided to help Diego and go against his own country, he made a bad choice. Of course, it’s going to take him months to recover from the injuries he sustained in that wreck.”

  Snorting again, Black Jack nodded so vehemently his forelock landed in his eyes.

  Johnny didn’t mention the second man in the SUV that Casper ran into the ravine. He’d been killed on the spot. But he’d also been identified as an employee of Carlos Diego.

  Both Diego and Plenty were in a federal facility in Washington, D.C.—so were Diego’s two other henchmen. Johnny had received word that a full report was expected from him, and some testimony as to the course of events. But Hance Bevins had been pretty decent about the resignation Johnny turned in.

  In a few weeks, Johnny would be free to start a new life—any kind of life he chose. He still had a law degree to fall back on. And he could live anywhere in the world he wanted.

  The problem was he was standing on the plot of ground he wanted to make his home. But he’d never been the kind of guy who accepted second place. He wasn’t a stand-in for Rory Sussex.

  Rory was in the hospital at Custer with armed guards at his door 24/7. He was recovering and had regained consciousness.

  Johnny checked his watch. He wanted to talk to Rory. They’d once been partners, closer than brothers. There were things to settle, and Johnny meant to have his answers.

  “Johnny?”

  Stephanie’s voice was like salt in an open wound. He ignored her.

  “Johnny, please. I want to talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” he said gruffly. “You made your choice clear. Leave it at that. When Tex is well, we’ll be gone.”

  “You won’t even give me a chance to explain?” she asked.

  He faced her and saw the hurt in her golden-brown eyes. The sight almost broke his resolve, but he found his strength. “I’m going into Custer to talk to Rory. He owes me an explanation.” He started toward his truck when he heard her angry reply.

  “He was your partner and he betrayed you. Yet you’ll give him a chance to explain. You won’t extend the same courtesy to me. Fine.”

  OH, DEAR ME. I thought the fireworks were over. All four of the bad guys were rounded up and hauled off—and the fifth one died in the crash of Rupert Casper’s SUV. The government got back the microchip listing the secret agents, Rory was saved, though a bit on the damaged side, and all the horses are okay. As a bonus, Rupert Casper has been charged with conspiracy to commit treason and a host of other things. That’s the federal way—throw out two hundred charges knowing that at least some of them will stick. Suits me, as long as he ends up in jail for a long, long time.

  So you would think Miss Cowgirl and Johnny Kreel would be in the house heating up the sheets in a major celebration.

  Not a chance. Those two are letting a little bit of hurt get in the way of a whole lot of feeling good. Humanoids. They are the most inept creatures in the universe at clear communication of emotion. How did they manage to take over the planet? The two genders can’t string two sentences together explaining their feelings without falling into the category of misleading, misconstrued or just plain misconceived.

  I’m half-starved, sleep deprived, saddle sore and craving a tender trout fillet. But I have to put all my needs aside and deal with this foolishness or Johnny Kreel is liable to miss out on the best thing that ever crossed his path.

  The one thing I’ve learned in this whole episode is that the horse has more sense than anyone else on this
ranch. Black Jack, lead the way, son.

  WATCHING JOHNNY DRIVE AWAY, Stephanie finally felt her temper ease. He’d made her mad enough to hog-tie him and hit him with a cattle prod—something she didn’t approve of for any reason. But Johnny was willing to listen to Rory’s explanations, yet he wouldn’t even give her a chance. That was a low blow.

  If the boot had been on the other foot, he would certainly have expected her to listen to him. In fact, when he’d finally confessed that he was at Running Horse Ranch on a pretext, she’d listened. And she’d forgiven him, because she could understand being caught between his desire to protect his country and his need to be honest.

  Obviously, he could dish it out but he couldn’t take it.

  She stomped into the house, only to be met by a hissing Familiar.

  “If he won’t listen, there’s nothing I can do,” she said.

  Familiar wrapped his arms around her lower leg in a bear hug and bit her shin.

  “Hey!” She stepped out of his painful embrace. “What is it? You’ve got my attention.”

  Familiar ran to the table, jumped onto it. From there he leaped to the counter and finally snagged her truck keys off the hook on the wall. With great expertise, he hefted them at her.

  They fell at her feet with a clang.

  “Oh, no,” she said, backing away from them. “I’m not chasing after Johnny Kreel and I certainly am not going to the hospital where Rory is being held.”

  Familiar sailed to the floor. He hooked the keys with a paw and dropped them on top of her foot. “Me-ow.” It was a command, not a request.

  Sighing, Stephanie scooped up the keys. Dammit, the cat was right. She couldn’t let Johnny walk out of her life without giving it 100 percent. He might not listen, but he was damn sure going to hear what she had to say.

  Familiar was already in the truck when she got there. The Feds had repaired both trucks and had also assured Stephanie that the barn would be rebuilt. This was all part of her agreement to keep silent about everything that had happened. She didn’t view it as a payoff, only as a settlement.