Punish (Feral Justice Book 1)

by Vella Munn

“I’d appreciate it if you’d tell the younger generation what a good person I am. Make it clear that they don’t need to be wary of humans. Most humans anyway,” Nate told her. “They could benefit from your knowledge, and it would make my job easier. You’re sure you don’t want to call them over?”

  “Been talking to horses long?”

  “Most of my life,” he told Douglas. “We get along just fine.”

  “So what do you think?”

  He ran his free hand over the pinto’s shoulder, gathering clumps of hair as he did. “She has a skin condition. Blisters and red patches along with bald spots.”

  “Caused by?”

  “A number of things. Bottom line, this is treatable but hasn’t been.”

  “She isn’t the only one missing hair.” Douglas indicated a couple of nearby horses that had gone back to grazing—trying to find something eatable anyway. “The ground’s used up. There’s nothing left.”

  “Yeah it is.” He lightly scratched the pinto’s neck. She sighed and closed her eyes. Nate’s stomach tightened. “Marti needs to prove he’s giving them enough hay, which he can’t.”

  “You’re losing your so-called objectivity.”

  Was he? And if so what did it matter? One moment at a time was all he was good for.

  The grays. The Force. Masau.

  “What is it?” Douglas touched his shoulder. “You’re looking spacy.”

  “Yeah, well…” The pinto opened her eyes, lifted her head and studied her surroundings. Her ears went back and too much white showed in her eyes. In contrast to the mare’s alarm, Nate felt as if he was becoming one with his surroundings. Early spring had always been his favorite time of year, but the longer he stood in the pasture, the more he found himself embracing late summer.

  He was being watched.

  Alarm prickled then faded. The watcher might be Marti, Opal or the grays, even Lobo. Until whoever it was let him know what they wanted from him, he’d simply exist.

  Then the geriatric pinto rested her head on his shoulder and he remembered why he was here.

  “Let’s talk to Marti. Make him answer some questions.”

  “Nate?”

  The deputy’s terse tone caught his attention. “What?”

  “I don’t know.” Douglas shielded his eyes. “Maybe it’s being in an open pasture, but I’m feeling exposed. Marti better not—”

  “He wasn’t armed.”

  “He could have a pistol hidden on him.”

  Despite the law enforcement officer’s experience-based observation, Nate couldn’t believe Marti would do something so stupid as shooting those he considered intruders. This wasn’t a day for dying, especially not now that he, maybe, had come up with a way to keep the grays alive.

  But Douglas wasn’t a man to jump at shadows.

  It took maybe ten minutes for Nate and Douglas to catch up to Marti. They said nothing about why they didn’t hurry their steps or why they continuously studied their surroundings.

  Neither did Nate mention still feeling as if someone—or something—was watching his every move. If it was the grays, if they’d somehow followed him here, Douglas might believe he had no choice but to shoot them.

  And if it was the Force—

  “You done already?” Marti demanded. He’d stopped digging before Nate and Douglas got within talking distance and had been waiting for them. “I told you you were wasting your time.”

  “Come on, Marti,” Nate said. “You know better than that.”

  “What you talking about?”

  “I’m not in a mood to play games. Your horses have gone downhill since I was here before. You have a pinto mare that—”

  “She’s old. She isn’t going to look like a filly.”

  Nate couldn’t remember when he’d been so tired. It wasn’t a physical weariness so much as not having the emotional energy for what the rest of this visit needed to be about. He’d give a great deal to be at Joe’s house, and in Rachelle’s arms.

  But she might not want anything to do with him.

  “I need to look at each and every horse.” He spoke forcefully. “Start moving them into the corral.”

  “The hell I—”

  “Let’s don’t do it this way,” Douglas interrupted. There was nothing casual about the way his hand brushed his weapon. “Cooperation goes a long way. Put some hay in the corral and they’ll come running. That’d be a good start.”

  “The hay delivery hasn’t arrived.”

  A fresh prickling along Nate’s spine overrode his weariness. “When is it due, Marti?”

  “Not for a couple of hours, maybe not until evening.”

  “When’s the last time they were fed?”

  Marti shrugged broad but sloping shoulders. “I don’t keep a damn record. You don’t have any idea how hard it is to find a reliable hay supply, do you? I swear I spend half my life checking around to see who has what.”

  “Then why do you have so many animals?”

  Marti glared. “I knew you were going to get around to that. You never give up beating that drum, do you?”

  “Work with us. What do you do if you need to move the herd from one place to another?”

  “My quad.”

  Douglas grunted. “The modern day cowboy. Why use a horse when you can drive?”

  Marti kicked at rocks. “Works.”

  Nate opted for waiting. The conversation had served to separate him a little from his acute awareness of his surroundings, yet some of it continued to tap at him.

  Could the grays be deciding whether Marti’s treatment of his horses warranted punishment?

  And if they attacked, would he try to keep Marti alive or let animal justice prevail?

  Would he participate?

  No, what was he thinking!

  “Whiskey’s gone.”

  “Whiskey?” he parroted.

  “My red heeler. Best cattle dog I’ve ever had.” Love coated Marti’s words. “From the time he was a puppy I knew he was something special.”

  “Cattle?” Douglas asked.

  “That’s what they were originally bred to do,” Nate supplied. “So you use Whiskey to keep the horses in line?”

  “Used to.” Marti wiped an eye. “He’s been gone two days. He’s dead, I know he is.”

  The word ‘dead’ ground into Nate’s nervous system. “He wouldn’t wander off?”

  “Never. Whiskey and I have been best friends since he was eight weeks old.”

  Like Joe and the grays. “Have you ever had something like that happen?”

  “No. I tried to ask that old biddy if she’d seen Whiskey, but she wouldn’t talk to me. Maybe a cougar or coyotes. Sometimes there’s wild dogs around, mutts people drop off. If there’s several of them they can become a pack. Hunt like wolves.”

  Lobo was a predator. He might—could the grays have killed Whiskey as a way of getting back at Marti?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Nate had to hand it to Marti. He knew his horses. Of course the animals were used to the quad’s sight, sound and purpose, which played a role in how little they objected to being herded into the corral near the road. Fortunately for the horses’ sake, Marti hadn’t rushed them. Despite his shortcomings, Marti cared for his animals—when he thought about them or could afford to feed them. Approximately half of the herd had wound up in the enclosure. Instead of telling Marti to go after the others, Nate rested his elbows on a board and studied them.

  The horses weren’t in good shape.

  “How many stallions do you have?” he asked as a well-hung roan tried to mount a mare while the mare’s foal watched.

  “Three. All quarter horses and proven at stud.”

  Obviously. Otherwise, the herd wouldn’t continue to grow the way it was. No way would he ever understand Marti’s thinking.

  “You have several depleted mares.” He pointed repeatedly. Of most concern was a pony-sized dam with a filly nearly as tall as she was. The dam’s head drooped. Her hip bones l
ooked as if they were about to poke through the thin layer of skin and hair stretched over them. Her foal wasn’t much better.

  The elderly pinto that had rested her head on his shoulder earlier kept shifting her weight as if her legs or hooves or both hurt.

  I’m sorry, sweetheart. You don’t deserve this.

  “Darn it, Marti. Look at your animals! There isn’t a one that isn’t underweight.”

  He readied himself for Marti’s usual excuses, but the man sat slumped on his quad. Judging by his body language, Nate had no doubt Marti would give a great deal to be able to ride away.

  “You don’t understand!” the big man shot back. “No one can.”

  It didn’t matter. The reality was that an overtaxed humane society would have to somehow find the resources to care for many if not all, of Marti’s horses.

  Leaving not enough to provide for the grays’ future.

  Nate’s temples pulsed. He pressed his fingers against the sides of his head. Marti might feel trapped, but he wasn’t the only one. Nate felt so boxed in it took all his self-control not to bury his fists in the older man’s face.

  Marti’s belly. A fist to his gut. A knee between his legs. Blow after blow pummeling the stupid bastard. Inviting the grays to finish what he’d started.

  “Nate, you okay?”

  He heard Douglas, and yet he didn’t. Years of trying to remain civilized around humans who were anything but crashed around him. His fury grew.

  “Get off that machine!” he ordered Marti. “Now.”

  For the first time since he’d met Marti, the older man didn’t argue. Cautious and disbelieving, he did as Nate commanded.

  “Come here.”

  “Nate? What’s going on?”

  He rounded on Douglas. The uniform and weapon meant nothing. “Stay the hell out of this. This is between Marti and me.”

  Marti had closed most of the distance between himself and Nate but stopped just out of reach.

  “There’s no explanation.” Nate clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. He wasn’t sure that was enough to keep from going ballistic. “I no longer care what goes on between your ears that makes you think you don’t have to feed the animals you’ve caged—”

  “I try. You know I try.”

  “I don’t know anything of the kind.” It took all he had not to lunge at Marti. “You have two eyes. You can count. You goddamn know you have no business owning this many animals.”

  “I sell—”

  “When’s the last time you sold one?” Grabbing Marti’s throat. Digging in with his nails until flesh tore. Cutting off his ability to breathe. Watching his face turn red. Listening to him choke and try to beg.

  Killing him.

  “Marti,” Douglas said. “Round up the rest of the horses. Then we’ll talk.”

  Furious, Nate whirled toward the deputy. “The hell—”

  Douglas’ hand hovered over his pistol. “As for you, calm down. Take a walk if that’s what you need to do.”

  “When’s the last time you pulled a dead puppy out of a trash can?” Nate couldn’t tell whether he was crying. “You ever see a cat someone tried to light on fire? It’ll do things to you, things you—”

  “I’m a cop, damn it. I’ve smashed a car window because some drug-addicted mother left her baby in it in the middle of summer. I used my hands to plug the hole in a fourteen-year-old’s chest put there by another fourteen-year-old the victim, supposedly, had disrespected.”

  Douglas’ words stole some of Nate’s fury. What he’d just said about abandoned puppies and burned cats replayed inside him. He’d sounded like a madman.

  Still felt like one.

  Marti walked backward toward his quad while watching Douglas and Nate. Nate wasn’t sure what he’d do if Marti tried to make a run for it.

  Probably take off after him. Tear his throat apart when he caught up with him.

  “You’re crazy,” Marti muttered. “They shouldn’t have sent you out.”

  “If not me, who? Do you think my coworkers would be any more sympathetic than I am? You’re a stupid fool and the horses are paying the price.”

  “Get off my property.”

  He didn’t have a court order, which meant Marti was within his rights to order him to leave. That didn’t mean Nate would do it.

  “You’ve had things your way for too damn long.” He started after Marti. “I’ve handled you with kid gloves, given you chance after chance. You ignore most of what I tell you to do. We both know why.”

  “Why?” The question came out a whimper.

  “Because my agency doesn’t have the resources to take over what you should be doing. Now—hell, I no longer have a choice.”

  Marti’s mouth opened. Before he could speak, he stumbled and fell. He landed on his butt but scrambled onto his hands and knees. Nate loomed over him.

  So this was what it felt like to be a predator, a hunter. He’d run down and crippled his prey. Maybe he’d immediately kill it, maybe he’d force his victim to anticipate the end. To suffer.

  “You know what the grays have done. Everyone does.” He glared. “Three animal abusers are dead because of them. An eye for an eye.”

  Marti licked his lips. “I didn’t poach no deer. I hate puppy mills as much as everyone else.”

  “What is this?” Nate jerked his head at the corral. “I’ll tell you what it is, your own private horse mill, only you forgot the most important part of your plan. There’s no market for them. They’re hay burners, that’s all they are. They have no value.”

  “Nate, enough.”

  Douglas could go to hell. Marti was fighting to regain his bluster, but he had a long way to go. More to the point, the downed man continued to make Nate think of a prey animal.

  “No, it isn’t enough,” he retorted. “The majority of those horses are going to have to be put down. They deserve better.”

  Marti’s eyes bugged. “I’ll turn them over to you, let you—”

  “I told you.” Nate clipped his words. “This county doesn’t have the resources to adequately care for so many horses. You know that. Why the hell didn’t you keep them from breeding?”

  Saying what he had felt incredible, maybe the freest words he’d ever spoken. For the first time since he’d put on an animal control uniform, he hadn’t had to pull his punches.

  Another wave of fury surged through him as he kicked Marti in the chest, knocking him onto his side. “You deserve the same fate.”

  “Nate!” Douglas grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Calm down.”

  “No, damn it. I—”

  A growl stopped him.

  Douglas let go and whirled in the direction the sound had come from. “Oh shit.” The deputy reached for his Glock.

  Seeing the grays and Lobo quieted Nate. Judging by the direction they were coming from, he concluded they’d been in some scrub oaks. They hadn’t been close enough to hear his rant, and yet, if their demeanor was any indication, they had. More to the point, they were agreeing with him.

  Douglas pulled out his weapon and gripped it in both hands. “What are they doing here?”

  “Don’t shoot,” Nate commanded.

  “I don’t want to, but—”

  The dogs stopped advancing. Despite the grays’ exposed teeth, Lobo’s fangs held his attention the most. One of Lobo’s parents had been born to kill. “I don’t know why they’re here. Maybe—maybe they’ve been watching the horses.” But maybe they followed me. Maybe they’re responsible for my anger. Maybe the Force is.

  “It’s them, isn’t it?” Even holding his side, Marti managed to get to his feet. “The killers.”

  “Yeah.” Nate threw the word at the other man. “That’s who they are.”

  “Shoot. You have to—”

  “Shut up,” Douglas snapped. “Nate, I’m going to call for backup.”

  “Not yet, please.”

  “If they come any closer—”

  “They won’t.”

  He
didn’t know that, of course. Truth was, Nate wasn’t sure he knew anything except that he was putting one foot in front of the other. Step by disembodied step he closed the distance between himself and the canines. Behind him, Douglas ordered him to get out of the way. Ignoring his friend, he walked. The closer he came, the larger and more imposing the grays appeared. It didn’t matter that Lobo wasn’t as large as the trio, the wolf-dog gave out an aura of pure predator.

  The grays were domestic animals, weren’t they? They’d been raised by a man who loved and respected them. In contrast, Lobo had spent his life behind metal fencing. Wayde had tried to get Lobo to bond with him, but it hadn’t worked. The wolf-dog wanted nothing to do with humans.

  Nate didn’t dare trust him and yet…

  “Why are you here?” he asked as he forced himself to stop walking. “Have you been following me?”

  Smoke took a step, started another. Gun nipped her flank. Hackles up, Smoke whirled and faced her attacker. Gun’s lips curled back, his eyes narrowing in a message only the animals understood. To Nate’s surprise, the alpha female dropped to the ground in submission.

  After dismissing Smoke, Gun approached Nate. Just like that Nate went back to when he’d held Gun’s head, to when Rachelle and he had shared a moment of calm with the grays.

  “Are you telling me to remember that experience?” he asked. “Because you want me on your side?”

  “Nate! Don’t be a fool.”

  Responding to Douglas would break his connection with the young male. Only this moment mattered. He reached out with less than steady fingers and placed his hands on either side of Gun’s muzzle. He’d started to come closer when his fingers encountered something stiff. Much as he didn’t want to do this, he raked a nail over it and brought his hand to his mouth. Tasted.

  Dried blood.

  “Are you hurt?” His voice quavered.

  Gun whined and licked his face. Nate ran his hands over everything he could reach of the gray. He found more dried blood on Gun’s neck and jaw. There was even some on his chest.

  Had Gun killed Marti’s cattle dog?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Rachelle’s hands had been so sweaty she’d had to repeatedly wipe them on her slacks during her panicked drive out to Ball Road. She’d still be hunting for Nate if she hadn’t spotted his work SUV and the sheriff’s department vehicle.