Книга - One Brave Cowboy

One Brave Cowboy
Kathleen Eagle


‘The name’s Cougar. Just Cougar. One name is enough.’ Cougar needed to build a new life and he’d start with what he loved most – horses. Which brought him to the Double D Wild Horse Sanctuary and into the orbit of ranch volunteer Celia Banyon and her son. The boy had suffered an unspeakable accident and his mother felt incredible guilt, but something about Cougar brought Celia back from the brink.He made her feel like a woman again and now, suddenly, one name wasn’t enough for what they could have if they’d just let themselves. Healing. Love. Family. Forever. In fact the possibilities were endless…










“It’s our turn to swing.”

Cougar tugged on her hand.

She saw the wide plank seat on the huge, dark, hulking tree and realized what kind of swinging he had in mind.

He caught her at the waist with a long shepherd’s crook of an arm. “Come sit on my lap and let’s ride double. This is a two-passenger swing. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”

She took a rope in each hand, kicked off her shoes and lowered herself onto his lap.

He took his hat off and tossed it in the grass, pushed off the ground with his booted feet just as she stretched her legs out behind his back. They were flying low, chasing evening shadows with bright smiles.

She leaned back on the upswing. “This is crazy!” His first kiss came mid-fight…


Dear Reader,

Nothing stirs this air force brat quite like a marching band and a formation of men and women in uniform parading before me. Military service goes way back on my side of the family, and many of my forebears rest at Arlington National Cemetery. And I married a man in uniform. My husband shipped out thirty days after our wedding. His people, the Lakota Sioux, have, like most American Indians, proudly served in the US military in great numbers for well over a hundred years.

Cougar—”just Cougar”—is such a man. He’s served gallantly, and he has the scars to prove it. He carries most of them on the inside. Little does he know that he wears his heart on his sleeve, where it’s easily stolen by a boy with special needs and a woman with love to give.

Once again, those magnificent wild horses from the Double D Sanctuary have a way of bringing people together.

All my best,

Kathleen Eagle




About the Author


KATHLEEN EAGLE published her first book, a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award winner, with Mills & Boon in 1984. Since then, she has published more than forty books, including historical and contemporary, series and single titles, earning her nearly every award in the industry. Her books have consistently appeared on regional and national bestseller lists, including the USA TODAY list and the New York Times extended bestseller list.

Kathleen lives in Minnesota with her husband, who is Lakota Sioux. They have three grown children and three lively grandchildren.




One Brave

Cowboy

Kathleen Eagle







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Remembering Daddy

Honoring the American soldier




Chapter One


The driver of the black pickup was himself driven, fixed on the hulking two-story white house at the end of the road. It was an old house in need of a coat of paint with a brand new, freshly painted sign affixed to the porch railing.

Office

Double D Wild Horse Sanctuary

It was the kind of incongruence that automatically drew his eye and raised the hackles he’d been working hard to tame. He was back in the States, for God’s sake. South Dakota. Land of the granite chiefs and home of the original braves. Just because something was a little off in a place that seemed too quiet didn’t mean Cougar needed to crouch and prepare to pounce. He was there on a tip from a fellow soldier. About the only people he trusted these days were guys he’d served with, and Sergeant Mary Tutan was one of the most standup “guys” he knew.

She couldn’t pull rank on him anymore, but she’d tracked him down, got him on the phone and talked like she could. Get your ass in gear, soldier! Go check out the wild horse training competition my friend Sally Drexler is running. It’s just what the VA docs ordered. She’d corrected herself—Sally Night Horse—and explained that Sally had married an Indian guy. Did he know Hank Night Horse? How about Logan Wolf Track?

As if Indian country was that damn small.

Cougar wasn’t interested in the sergeant’s social life, but the mention of horses got his attention. Training competition and cash prize sounded pretty attractive, too. He’d been away from horses too long. The one he could see loping across the pasture a good half mile away made him smile. Nice bay with a big spotted colt in tow. He could almost smell their earthy sweat on the hot South Dakota wind blowing through the pickup cab.

His nose welcomed horse sweat, buffalo grass and the clay dust kicked up by the oversize tires on his “tricked out” ride, compliments of his brother, Eddie. He could have done without the tires. Could have done without any of the surprises he’d come home to, but he didn’t want to do without his brother, and Eddie would have pouted indefinitely if Cougar had said anything about how many miles his brother had racked up on the vehicle in Cougar’s absence.

The house looked pretty quiet for the “headquarters” of what was billed as the biggest privately maintained wild animal reserve in the Dakotas. Cougar didn’t care how big it was as long as it was legitimate. He’d been down too many dead-end roads lately. The end of this one seemed pretty dead as far as human activity was concerned, but one by one the horses were silently materializing, rising from the ebb and flow of tall grass. They kept their distance, but they were watchful, aware of everything that moved.

As was Cougar. His instinct for self-preservation wasn’t quite as sharp as the horses’, but it surpassed that of any man, woman or…

… child.

Cougar hit the brake. He saw nothing, heard nothing, but eyes and ears were limited. Cougar knew things. Men and women were on their own, but kids were like foals. Always vulnerable. They gave off signals, and Cougar was a gut-level receptor. Which was a damn good thing. If it hadn’t been for his gut, he would have done nothing.

And if it hadn’t been for the red baseball cap, he would have thought he was going crazy again, and he might have slid his boot back over the accelerator. But the red cap saved both kid and driver.

And the goat.

Cougar’s pulse pounded behind his staring eyeballs. The goat took off, and a small hand stretched out, barely visible beyond a desert camo armored fender.

Don’t stop for anything, sergeant. That kid’s coming for us. You slow down, he takes us out. Do. Not. Stop.

Cougar closed his eyes, took a breath, shifted into reverse as he took a look back, gunned the engine, and nearly jackknifed his trailer. When he turned, there was no goat. He saw a light-haired kid in blue jeans, stretched out on his belly. He saw the front end of his black pickup. He saw a red and white barn, sparsely graveled road and South Dakota sod. He secured the pickup and threw the door open simultaneously. His boots hit the ground just as the kid pushed himself up on hands and knees. He looked up at Cougar, eyes filled with terror, but no tears.

And he was up. Thank you, Jesus.

Cougar’s shadow fell across the boy like a blanket dropped from a top bunk. His own knees wouldn’t bend. “You okay?”

The boy stared at him.

“I didn’t see you,” Cougar said, willing the boy to stand on his own, to be able to get up all the way. “Are you hurt?”

The boy stretched out his arm, pointed across the road and smiled. Cougar swung his head around and saw a gray cat.

“Was that it?” He looked down at the boy. “A damn cat? For a second I thought I’d…” His legs went jittery on him, and his knee cracked as he squatted, butt to boot heels. “Jesus,” he whispered as he braced his elbow on his knees and dropped his head into his hand. His heart was battering his ribs. He couldn’t bring himself to look the kid in the eye quite yet. Might scare him worse. Might scare them both worse.

A small hand lit like a little bird on his shoulder. He twitched beneath it, but he held himself together. He saw the red cap out of the corner of his eye, felt the wind lift his hair, smelled the grass, heard the pickup purring at his back. His own vehicle, not the Army’s. He held on to the here and now, lifted his head and gave the boy a quick once-over, every part of him but his eyes. He couldn’t trust himself to look the boy in the eye. He wasn’t strong enough yet.

“That was close, wasn’t it? Scared the… livin’…”

Not a word from the boy.

Cougar took the risk of patting the hand on his shoulder. It was okay. His hand was steady. “But you’re all right, huh? No harm done?”

No response. Kid was either scared speechless, or he was deaf.

Or blind. One eye, anyway. The other eye didn’t move. Cougar looked him up and down again, but the only sign of blood was a skinned knee peeking through a stained hole in his jeans.

Wordlessly the boy turned tail and sped away like a fish running up against a glass wall. Cougar stood slowly, pushing off on his thighs with less than steady hands, lifting his gaze from the soles of the boy’s pumping tennis shoes, down the road to the finish line.

The barn’s side door flew open, and there was Mama. She was all sound and flurry. “Mark!”

Get set, go! Cougar heard within his head, where his pounding pulse kept pace with retreating feet. He got back into his pickup and let the tires crawl the rest of the way, passing up the house for the barn, where the woman—small, slight, certainly pretty and pretty certainly upset—would be somebody to talk to. The options—all but one—weren’t exactly jumping out at him.

He parked, drew a long, deep breath on the reminder that he hadn’t killed anybody today and then blew it out slowly, again thanking any higher power that might be listening. The doc’s slow, deep breathing trick seemed to be working.

“Is the boy all right?” Cougar called out as he flung the pickup door shut.

The woman held the boy’s face in her hands, checking for damage. Cougar watched her long, lush ponytail bob and weave as she fussed over her charge. It swung shoulder to shoulder as she turned big, bright, beautiful brown eyes on Cougar. “What happened?”

For the sake of those wondrous eyes he wished he had an answer. “Whatever he told you.” He took a step, testing his welcome. “I’m still not sure.”

“He hasn’t told me anything. He doesn’t speak.”

Cougar looked down at the boy, who appeared to be taking his measure. “So you weren’t holding out on me. But you took off before I got around to saying I’m…” He offered his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“What happened?” the woman insisted.

“I’d say he came out of nowhere, but that would sound like an excuse. All I know is that I slammed on the brakes, and…” He shook his head. “Then I saw his cap, then a hand and I thought I’d, uh… hit—” he glanced at the boy, and his stomach knotted “—somebody.”

“You stopped before you saw anything?”

“Yeah. Well, I…” He owed it to her straight, just the way he remembered it. “I had a feeling. It’s hard to explain. I guess I was admiring the scenery.” He adjusted his new brown Stetson, stirred some gravel beneath his shifting boots. “I didn’t see him. Didn’t hit the horn, nothing.”

“I was just getting some…” She gestured toward the door she’d left open. “Oh, God, I wasn’t paying attention. I let him slip…” She gave her head a quick shake. “I slipped. For a minute. More than a minute.” She pulled the boy’s head to her body. The top of it fit nicely between her breasts. He gave her a quick hug and then ducked under her arms and backed away, leaving her empty arms still reaching for him. “Oh, Markie-B, I thought you were playing with the kittens.”

“I guess the mama got away. He was chasing her.” Cougar’s gaze connected with the boy’s. “Right, Mark? You were just trying to bring Mama Cat back to her babies.”

“Was it close?” the woman asked, almost inaudibly.

“He must’ve tripped. He was face-in-the-dirt. Blew the knee out of his jeans.” He turned to the woman. “He can’t hear, either?”

She shook her head. “As far as we know.”

“Don’t they have tests for that?” You just crossed the line, Cougar.

“Yes, of course. Tests. All kinds of tests.” She offered him her hand. “I’m Celia Banyon. My son, Mark, is a mystery. We really don’t know what’s going on.”

“Yeah, it was close.” Either the truth or her touch made him weaken inside. He glanced away. “Really close.”

“I’m… He looks…” She cleared her throat, stepped back, and her hand slid away. “Are you here to see Sally?”

That’s right. He was on a mission that had nothing to do with a stray kid.

“I’m here about the training contest. The name’s Cougar.”

“First? Last?”

“Always.” She gave him a puzzled look, and he took a shot at smiling. “Just Cougar. One name is enough.” He glanced at the house. “Is she here?”

“Nope, it’s just me and Mark holding down the fort today. Everyone else is either out in the field or taking care of business. You’re a trainer?”

“I’ve trained my own horses, yeah. I heard about this wild horse contest from a friend, so I thought I’d have a look for myself, see if I can qualify.”

“Mustang Sally’s Wild Horse Makeover Competition. I’m not actually involved. We’re volunteers with the sanctuary. Aren’t we, Mark?” She touched the boy’s shoulder, and he looked up at her. “We help Sally with the horses, don’t we?” Then turning her attention back to Cougar, she shaded her eyes with her hand. “Sally and her husband had an appointment. Everyone else is working. I could get you an information packet from the office.” She glanced at the boy. “We need to go in and take care of your knee anyway, don’t we?”

Mark was staring at Cougar, who felt obliged to honor the eye contact since the boy seemed to be a few senses short of a full house.

“Where was he?” Celia asked. “He couldn’t’ve been far away. Right? He was right here with me, and then…”

“He’s pretty quick on his feet.”

“I know.” She sighed. “Boy, do I know.”

“I’ll come back later.” Cougar stepped back, giving the woman plenty of space for worries that were no longer his business. The boy was unharmed.

“If you’d like to leave Sally your number…”

“I’ll call her later. Think I’ll head back over to Sinte and hang out for a while.”

“I’ll let Sally know.” When he stepped back, she quickly added, “Where are you from?”

“Wyoming. Wind River country.”

“Did you make a special trip?”

“Up until I met up with Mark it was pretty ordinary.”

“I meant…” She reconsidered, and then she nodded, reached for the boy and drew him under her wing. “Next time…”

“Yeah.” He gave a wink when he caught Mark’s eye. “We’ll be careful. We’ll watch out for each other.”

Down the road, Cougar ran across the gray cat. She was sitting exactly where he’d last seen her, as though she was waiting to be picked up. He stopped and did exactly that. The cat didn’t object, not even when he slid his hand around her belly. He could feel her swollen teats. The gooseneck trailer he was towing complicated his U-turn, but he wasn’t about to back down the road. He knew a thing or two about blind spots.

Celia appeared in the doorway, shaded her eyes and watched him warily. Probably thought he’d been casing the place and come back to cause mayhem. Couldn’t blame her.

“I found the cat,” he called out as he alighted, holding the animal to his chest. “Thought it might be a comfort.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t reach for the cat, and he didn’t offer it. She looked a little ashen. Delayed shock, maybe. They just looked at each other while he stood there like an overgrown kid, rubbing the cat behind her ears.

“She would have come back,” Celia said as she led the way into the barn.

The cat started purring. He liked the feel of it. “I’m like the boy. Don’t want her getting too far away from her litter.”

“Mark’s playing with them. I don’t think he realizes. I haven’t done a good job of impressing it on him that he has to… he can’t just…”

Cougar squatted beside the boy and released the cat into the newspaper-lined box, to the delight of her squirming, mewling kittens.

“Oh, look how welcome Mama is,” Celia said.

Cougar watched the kittens latch on to Mama for lunch. Mark was busy making sure all seven were hooked up. He didn’t seem to realize that disaster had zoomed in so close that its sickening taste still filled Cougar’s mouth. Maybe the boy had already filed the lesson away, and it would serve him down the road. Cougar wished he could do the same—a wish he probably shared with the kid’s mom. He turned, looking for confirmation, a little eye contact with her big, magnetic brown eyes, but she wasn’t there anymore. Not the hovering kind, apparently.

But how did she know Cougar wasn’t some kind of a whack job? She’d already told him he had the two of them pretty much all to himself. He’d drop a word of caution if he were the interfering kind of a…

He heard soft mewling—the human variety—coming though an open door to a dark room. He assured himself that the boy was thoroughly occupied before he stepped close to the door.

“Celia?” Her name rolled off his tongue as though he’d been saying it for years.

She drew a hiccough-y breath. “I’m… okay.”

She’s okay. Walk away.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“I just don’t want him to see me,” she whispered desperately.

Cougar stepped through the door. It was a tack room, and the woman stood tucked among the bridles. Small and slim as she was, she might have been one of them.

“How close was it, really?” she asked, her voice reedy.

“Close.”

“You couldn’t see him, but you stopped?”

“That’s right.” He didn’t quite know what to do with himself now that he’d crossed his own line. He’d just met the woman, and he felt like he was looking at her naked. He took a leather headstall in hand and hung on, steadying himself for a bumpy ride. “Some people have eyes in the back of their head. I have something inside my head. It picks up where the eyes and ears leave off. Sometimes. Not… not always.”

“Whatever it is, I need some.”

He gave a dry chuckle. “It doesn’t always turn out this good.”

“It did this time. Mark’s in his own world, and I’m on the outside, trying to look in. I blink, and he gets away from me.” She drew a quavering breath. “But he’s not hurt. What am I blubbering about?”

“I’ve still got the shakes, too. We know what could have happened. Mark doesn’t, so he doesn’t need to worry too much right now. We can do that for him.”

“He does know what could have happened. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows better than we do.” She swallowed so loudly Cougar could taste her tears. “He had a terrible accident. Lost an eye.”

“Car accident?”

“No. It happened…” She shut herself down. He had all the details he was getting right now. “This isn’t the first time I blinked.”

“Won’t be the last. You got another pair of eyes in your family?”

“Mark’s father and I are divorced.” She paused, shifting gears. “I want what you have. A mother’s instincts aren’t enough with a child like Mark.”

“Ordinarily I’d say take mine, but I’m glad I had it goin’ on today.”

“Me, too.” She took a swipe at each eye with the back of her wrist as she emerged from her little harbor. “Just Cougar?”

“It’s all I need. Pretty big name.”

“It’s a great name.” He took half a step back as she edged past him. A singular moment had passed. “You know, the winner of the training contest gets twenty thousand dollars.”

“Yeah, that’s what Sergeant Tutan said.” He followed her through the tack room door. “Mary Tutan. She’s the one who told me about the competition.”

“Oh, yes, Mary,” she said, her voice brightening. “She just got married.”

“I stopped in and met her husband before I came here. She’s…”

“… back in Texas.”

“Says she’s put in for discharge. Kinda surprised me.” Seeing the boy with the kittens made him smile. “Sergeant Tutan had lifer written all over her. She’s a damn good soldier. Uncle Sam will miss her, but she’s served well.”

She took his measure with a look. “You, too?”

“I’ve been out for two months now. Officially.” Which was like saying her son had had an accident. There was a lot more to it, but nobody wanted to go there. “Tell Sally I’ll be at Logan’s place. I’ll check back in with her.” He reached down and touched Mark’s shoulder. “You’ve got a nice family there.” The boy offered up a little calico. Cougar rubbed the top of its head with his forefinger and nodded. “They’re too young to leave their mama.”

“Maybe we’ll see you when you come back for your horse,” Celia said. “You’ll get to choose.”

“If Mark’s around, maybe he could help me with that.” He still had the boy’s attention, maybe even some awareness of what he was saying. Cougar felt some connection. Close calls could have that effect. He’d experienced enough of them to know that. “I’ll bet you know the mustangs around here pretty well. I could use your advice.”

“He’d like that,” Celia said. “Thank you. I…” She laid her hand on his arm. Against his will he turned, took her eyes up on their offer of a clear view into her heart. “Thank you.”

He couldn’t wait to get out the door. He couldn’t handle that kind of gratitude. It wasn’t about anything he’d done. It was about not doing the unthinkable. At best it was about an accident that hadn’t happened, and he needed to put some distance between his image of what might have been and the faces in the image.

At the same time he wanted to hang around, which was pretty damned surprising. And it was about as uncomfortable as a new pair of boots.

Logan Wolf Track lived in a log house just outside the town of Sinte, where he served as a tribal councilman for his Lakota people. Cougar’s mother had been Lakota, but he was enrolled with the Shoshone, his father’s people. Cougar hadn’t met Logan until he’d knocked on the Wolf Track door the previous night. Sergeant Mary Tutan Wolf Track was the person they had in common. A white woman, strangely enough.

Or maybe it wasn’t that strange. Indian country was more open these days than ever before, what with the casinos and educational programs that opened up opportunities for people on both sides of what had long been an unchallenged fence. But before these changes and beyond Indian country, there had been the military. Cougar’s people had been serving in ever-increasing numbers for generations.

Cougar had been an army police officer—an MP—and Mary had been a dog handler. She’d served as a trainer—most recently in Afghanistan—and as far as Cougar was concerned she was the best trainer in uniform. She’d paid him a visit in the hospital in Kandahar, and she’d written to him after he was transferred stateside. More recently, they’d spoken by phone. Their mutual interest in training animals had given her something cheerful to talk about, and when Mary had talked up the wild horse training competition, she had his full attention. She’d planted an idea that had pulled him out of the seclusion he’d sought after his release from a VA hospital.

Cougar was glad to see Logan’s pickup parked in his driveway. It wasn’t home—Cougar towed his house around with him these days—but Logan Wolf Track was the kind of guy who made you feel at home. Fellow Indian, fellow cowboy, husband of a fellow soldier. Logan opened the door before Cougar’s knuckles hit the wood.

“Did you get signed up?” Logan asked as he handed Cougar a welcoming cup of coffee.

“Not yet.” Cougar settled in the kitchen chair Logan offered with a gesture. “The boss was out.”

“Nobody around?” He said it like such a thing never happened.

“There was a woman. A volunteer, she said. And her kid.” Cougar took a sip of kick-ass and cut-to-the-chase coffee. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “I almost ran over the kid.”

Logan let the quiet take over, leaving Cougar to take his time, sort though the images. They were jumpy, like an old silent movie, until he came to the woman. Her face was clear in his mind, and her voice poured over the images like slow dance music.

“He’s okay,” Cougar said. “Came out of nowhere, but I hit the brakes in time. Scared the hell out of me, and I think I scared the hell out of his mom. The kid…” He shook his head. “Hell, he didn’t seem to notice. Can’t talk, can’t hear and he’s half blind. I didn’t see him.” Another sip of coffee fortified him. “Damn, that was close.”

Logan put a plate of frybread on the table and took a seat across from his guest. “Your pickup sits up pretty high.”

Cougar nodded. “I gotta get rid of those monster tires. My little brother had the truck while I was gone, and he thought he was doing me a favor tricking it out like that. Coming home present, you know?”

“How do they ride?”

“Like saddling up a plow horse. Somehow I gotta tell Eddie the monster truck days are behind me.”

“That’s hard. A gift is a gift.”

“And the monster truck was a kid’s dream.” Cougar lifted his cup. “Good coffee. Tastes like Green Beans. Honor first, coffee second,” he recited, paying tribute to one of the few things he missed about being deployed in the Middle East.

Logan smiled. “You and Mary were in the same outfit?”

“No, but she worked pretty closely with us. She’s a real specialist. I’m the guy nobody invites to the party.”

“But when the party turns ugly, it’s the guy with MP on his sleeve who kicks ass in a good way.”

“That’s what we’re all about. I’ve kicked a lot of ass.” He helped himself to a piece of frybread. “You’ve been over there?”

“Gulf War.” Logan claimed a piece of frybread and tore it in half. “I was a kid when I went over there. Came back desperate to find some kind of normal. I found myself a hot woman and married up. She cooled off real fast. Took off and left me with her two boys. Who became my two boys.” He took a bite out of the chewy deep-fried bread. “Did Mary tell you we’re gonna have a baby?”

“Already?”

“Hell, yeah. You know what else? Normal’s the name of a town somewhere. Who needs Normal when you’ve got Sinte, South Dakota? Or… Wyoming, right? Where in Wyoming? You probably—”

“I probably didn’t say. Right now it’s wherever I park my outfit.” He nodded toward the front door. “Room to haul two horses and sleep two people.”

“What else does a guy need?” Logan asked with a grin.

“Not much.” Cougar gazed out the patio door and past the deck toward Logan’s corrals and pole barn. It wasn’t a fancy setup, but it was trim and orderly. “My brother and I have some land west of Fort Washakie. We own a quarter section, and we leased some grazing land, but he gave up the lease while I was gone.” He lifted a shoulder. “Can’t blame him. I was gone.”

“Were you running cattle?”

“I had horses. Eddie had to sell them.” But that wasn’t what he wanted to think about right now. He turned back to his new friend. “You know the people over at the Double D pretty well?”

“I know Sally. She and Mary have been friends a long time. Hell of a woman, that Sally Night Horse. She has multiple sclerosis, but she doesn’t let it slow her down much.” Logan offered a knowing look. “She has a lot of volunteers coming in to help. What’s the name of the woman you met?”

“Celia Banyon. The boy’s name is Mark.”

“Oh, sure. Celia’s a teacher.” Logan smiled. “Pretty little thing.”

“Pretty enough.” Logan’s smile was slightly irritating, but Cougar caught himself half smiling, too.

“Careful,” Logan said. “You crack your face, you’re gonna feel it.”

Cougar laughed. “Ouch. Damn, that smarts.”

“It looks good on you. Like you said, no harm done. Shake it off, cowboy.” Logan warmed up Cougar’s coffee with a refill. “What kind of horse are you looking for?”

“A war pony. One that can go all day without complaining.”

“You do know it’s a contest.”

“Mary said you can train the horse for anything you want.”

“You have to turn out a useful horse. Not much call for war ponies these days.”

“That’s what I’m calling for. A war pony prospect.” Cougar leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs under the table. “I did some endurance racing before I enlisted. Mustangs and Arabs are the best mounts for endurance, far as I’m concerned.”

“That’s how you’d prove your horse?”

“If they’re pretty open on what you can train the horse for, I don’t see why not. Endurance is a good sport. Good for the horse, great for the rider. From what I’ve read, it’s even more popular than it was back when I tried it out. You think I can get approved to train a war pony?”

“I think you’d round out Sally’s contestant collection pretty nicely.” Logan grinned. “Especially now that I’m out of it.”

“She needs an Indian replacement?”

“Indian cowboy.” Logan chuckled. “Talk about your dying breeds, huh? Cowboys are scarce enough, but us Indian cowboys…”

“Why’d you take yourself out?”

“The horses will be auctioned off after the thing is over, and my wife and I…” He smiled, clearly pleased with the words. “We decided Adobe was worth more to us than winning the competition, so we adopted him and took him out of the running.”

“Sweet. The horse is out of the running. The owner’s off the market.”

“Both owners.”

“Sergeant Tutan deserves the best.” Cougar glanced out the patio door again, taking in Logan’s setup. “You’ve got a round pen out there. How do you like it?”

“When you get your horse, you come try it out. I wouldn’t be without one.”

“They weren’t expecting me at the Double D,” Cougar admitted. “I told them I was coming, but I didn’t exactly say when. Sunrise this morning, I didn’t think about it too much. Felt like a good time to take a drive.”

“And now you’re here,” Logan said. “So take your time. Stay here tonight, and I’ll head over there with you tomorrow. I never miss a chance to go looking at horses.”

“I just need a place to park.”

“Plenty of parking space, but there’s also a spare room.” Logan indicated the hallway with a jerk of his chin. “It’s yours if you want it.”

Cougar wanted peace and privacy. He needed to build a new life, and he would start with what he loved most.

Horses.




Chapter Two


Cougar spent the night in his trailer. The bed was comfortable—great memory foam mattress one of his fellow patients at the VA had raved about until Cougar had promised to get himself one if the guy would shut up about it—and all the basic necessities were covered. The best part was the solitude. Privacy had been hard enough to come by in the army, but hospitals were worse yet. Not only did you have people around every minute of every endless day and night, but you had them poking at your body and digging into your mind.

The trailer had been another of Eddie’s homecoming surprises. Got a great deal on it for you. Eddie had used the money he’d gotten for their horses to buy his brother a horse trailer. It sounded like a story Cougar had read in English class back in the good ol’ days, only in the story it wasn’t the same person selling the two things that went together. Cougar would have taken his kid brother’s head off if he hadn’t actually been a little touched by the whole thing. They’d been partners, but the trailer was in Cougar’s name. And in the end it was a relief to know that he could still be touched in the heart, what with it being general knowledge that he was touched in the head. So who was he to accuse “Eddie Machete” of being a madman?

Logan had offered Cougar the use of his man-size shower, and he planned to take him up on it, but not without knocking on the door with a few groceries in hand for breakfast. After honoring sunrise with a song, he unhitched the trailer, drove into the little town of Sinte, parked in front of the Jack and Jill and waited for the doors to open.

The cashier gave him the once-over when he unloaded bacon, eggs and orange juice next to her register. He read the whole two-second small-town ritual in her eyes. Nope, she didn’t know him.

“Anything else?” she asked tonelessly. Half a dozen smartass answers came to mind, but he opted for a simple negative.

With one arm he swept the grocery bag off the counter, thrusting his free hand into his key-carrying pocket as he turned to the door. Two big brown eyes stared up at him—one friendly, the other fake.

Cougar smiled. “Hey, Mark, how’s it going this morning? Better than yesterday?”

“Yesterday?” A man about Cougar’s size stepped in close behind the boy. His dark red goatee and mustache somehow humanized his pale, nearly colorless eyes. He laid a hand on Mark’s shoulder, but his question was for Cougar. “What happened yesterday?”

So this is the ex-husband.

“We had a little run-in.” Cougar winked at the boy as he scratched his own smooth jaw. “Near run-in. Mark was lookin’ out for his cat, and I was looking at horses.”

“Yeah?” With one hand the man adjusted his white baseball cap by the brim—the Bread and Butter Bakery emblem identified him apart from the woman and her boy—while he tightened the other around Mark’s small shoulder and moved him two more steps into the store. “Where did all this happen?”

“The wild horse sanctuary. Are you…?”

“Mark’s father.”

Cougar drew a deep breath and offered a handshake. “The name’s Cougar.”

“What do you mean by run-in?” Handshake accepted, nothing offered in return. “Were you walking? Riding?”

“I was driving. I didn’t see him. I drive a—”

“Where was his mother?”

“She was close by.” Cougar eyed the hand on the boy’s shoulder. He could feel the fingertips digging in. Ease up, Mark’s father. “It was one of those things that happens so fast, nobody can really be—”

“In Mark’s case, everyone has to be.”

Man, those eyes are cold.

“I know. She told me. Guess that’s why it scared me more than it scared him.” He smiled at Mark, sending out you and me, we’re good vibes. “But nobody got hurt, and we found the cat, and it was all good training.”

“Training? She calls that training?”

“I call it good training.” Cougar’s keys chinked in his restive right hand. “Ever been in the army? If nobody gets killed, it’s called good training.”

“No, I haven’t served in the military.” Again he touched the brim of his cap. “But, you know… thanks for your service. Cougar, you said?”

“That’s right.”

“Could I get some contact information from you? I might want to get a few more details.”

“About what?”

Not that it mattered. Cougar was all done with the pleasantries. He would have walked right through the guy and out the door if the boy hadn’t been looking up at him the whole time, asking him for something. He didn’t want to know what it was. He didn’t have it to give.

“Mark is what they call special needs,” Red Beard said slowly, as though he was using a technical term. “I’m his father, and I have rights. Not to mention a responsibility to make sure he’s getting all the services and care he’s got coming. You never know what you’ll be able to use to back up your case.”

“Case against who?”

“Not against anybody. For Mark. Proof that his needs are special.”

“His mother knows how to reach me,” Cougar said. He only had eyes for the boy as he stepped around the two. “Look both ways, Mark. I’ll see you around.”

Cougar smelled bacon. Damn, he loved that smell. He didn’t miss much about being deployed in the Middle East, but food in camp was surprisingly good, and breakfast in “the sandbox” had been the best meal of the day. Unless you were manning an outpost, in which case every meal came with a side of sand.

Logan had gotten the jump on Cougar’s plan to prepare breakfast. He stowed most of his purchases in the fridge, set the bread on the table—gave the plastic Bread and Butter Bakery bag a second look and decided he wasn’t in the mood for toast—and helped himself to coffee.

“I ran into that kid I told you about over at the Jack and Jill. He was with his dad.”

Logan turned from the stove and the bacon he was lifting from the pan and raised an eyebrow. “When you say ran into…”

“I was on foot.” Cougar watched the grease drip from bacon to pan. “His mother said he lost his eye in an accident. You know anything about that?”

“Not much. Happened on some kind of construction site, the way I heard it. Before she came here to teach. Her ex-husband started showing up a few months ago.” Logan turned the stove off. “About all I know for sure is she’s a good teacher.”

“He wanted to know how to get in touch with me in case he needed some kind of witness or something. I don’t know what he was talking about. It was a close call, but the boy wasn’t hurt.” Cougar drew a deep breath and glanced out the patio door toward the buttes that buttressed the blue horizon. “I’m sure he wasn’t hurt.”

“His mom checked him over?”

“Skinned his knee, but that’s…” The image of the boy pushing himself up to his hands and knees brought back the wrecking ball swing—boom! panic, boom! relief. Even now his heart was racing again. “He doesn’t talk. He can’t really say what’s…”

“At that age, they get hurt, most kids let you know with everything they’ve got except the kind of words that make sense. You get blood, bellowing, slobber, maybe the silent treatment, but you don’t get the story until you’ve already assessed the damage.”

“They break easy,” Cougar said quietly.

“After they’re grown, you look back at all the close calls and you figure somebody besides you had to be lookin’ out for them.” Logan handed Cougar a plate. “Go to the head of the line.”

Cougar followed orders. Logan added finishing touches to Cougar’s meal—the toast he didn’t want and the coffee he couldn’t get enough of—playing host or dad, Cougar wasn’t sure which.

“My older son, Trace, he’s a rodeo cowboy.” Logan’s plate joined Cougar’s on the table. “He’s broken a lot of bones riding rough stock. You gotta learn to bend, I tell him. Look at the trees that survive in the wind around here. We’re survivors.”

“Learn to bend,” Cougar echoed.

He hadn’t known Logan long, but he knew him pretty well. They’d worn some of the same boots—cowboy boots with riding heels, round-toed G.I. boots, worn-out high tops stashed under an Indian boarding school bed at night, beaded baby shoes. He knew the lessons, figured they’d both felt the same kind of pinching, done their share of resisting.

Considering all that, Cougar sipped his coffee and gave Logan a look over the rim of the cup.

“Pretty deep, huh?” Logan chuckled. “Spend a few years in tribal politics, you learn how to command respect with a few well-placed words of wisdom.

Everybody around the table says Ohan, so you know when it comes time to vote, you’ve gotten the ones who were on the fence to jump down on your side.”

“So that’s the way it works.” Cougar set the cup down with exaggerated care. “Whatever passes for wisdom.”

“It helps if it’s true.”

“I’m having a hard time with that lately. I thought it would all come clear to me as soon as I got back to the States, back home. It hasn’t happened yet. Truth, justice and the American Way.” Cougar’s turn to chuckle. “What the hell is that?”

“Superman,” Logan said with a smile. “I heard he died. Never learned to bend, they said.”

“Superheroes ain’t what they used to be.”

“No, but that cottonwood tree keeps right on spittin’ seed into the wind.” Logan nodded toward the glass door that opened onto a deck dappled by the scant shade of a young tree. “I don’t know about you Shoshone, but the Lakota hold the cottonwood in high esteem. Adaptable as hell, that tree.”

“Where I come from, we don’t have many trees.” Cougar finished off his eggs and stacked his utensils. “I could listen to you throw the bull all day long, Logan, but that won’t get me into the wild horse training competition. Are we heading over to meet this Mustang Sally I’ve heard so much about, or not?”

Logan slid his chair back from the table. “My friend, let’s go get you a horse.”

Through the big barn doors Celia recognized the white panel truck when it was still the size of a Matchbox toy. It carried her heart’s greatest delight and her mind’s worst trouble. Part of her wanted it to slow down and take the Double D approach, and part of her wanted it to sail on past.

It turned.

It was too soon. She’d just seen her former husband last night when he’d come to get Mark for the weekend. He’d been civil enough, but that didn’t make it any easier for her to be around him. Round two was bound to be uncivil. Either he’d invented some new bone of contention or devised another way to throw her off balance.

Or maybe something had come up and he was about to forego the rest of his time with Mark. No problem. No need to explain. Just give my son back to me and say no more.

Oh, if he would only say no more.

She finished dumping the contents of the wheelbarrow onto the manure pile, grabbed the handles and pointed the front wheel toward the barn. She didn’t want to deal with Greg out in the open. Whenever there was a chance of an audience, he was on. His normal tone of voice was several notches higher than anyone else in the scene. And Greg loved a scene.

She wished she had time for a shower. Sure it was silly, but scent confidence always felt like a huge advantage. Stinker that he was, Greg rarely got his hands dirty.

Mark ran to his mother the moment he entered the barn. Celia got the message from his quick, strong hug—I’d rather be with you—and then he bolted for the cats’ nest.

“We’re on our way to Reptile Gardens,” Greg announced. “We figured you’d be here, so we thought we’d stop in.”

“This stop isn’t on the way to Reptile Gardens.” She pulled her rawhide work gloves off as she watched Mark claim a gray tiger in each hand and tuck them against his neck. She wanted to thank the mewling kittens and their patient mama for the bright laughter in her boy’s eyes. “But Mark obviously needed to check on the kittens.”

“The bakery changed my route. I’ve got the Jack and Jill in Sinte now, and I made a special delivery there this morning. Ran into your new friend.” Greg greeted her glance with a cold smile. “Calls himself Cougar?”

Celia tucked her work gloves into the back pockets of her jeans. She’d learned to ignore the inevitable preamble and go on about her business until Greg got to his point. He took fewer time-consuming detours that way.

“He said he almost ran into Mark yesterday. Could have killed him.”

Not a direct quote, Celia decided. She hardly knew Cougar, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t said that. Greg was baiting her. If she kept her mouth firmly closed, he would eventually go away. Maybe even without Mark if he could come up a glitch in his plan. News that the rattlesnakes had escaped from Reptile Gardens, maybe, or a tortoise quarantine.

“Why weren’t you watching him?”

She hadn’t braced herself for that one. It was a fair question, and it had been haunting her since the incident happened. Sarcasm evaporated. Who was she to criticize—even silently—when she’d failed so miserably?

“We were doing chores,” she said quietly. “I thought he was—”

“You thought. See, that’s your problem, Cecilia. You’re always thinking. Meanwhile, he’s on the move, many steps ahead of you. And who the hell knows what he’s thinking?”

“He was playing with the cats.”

“And what were you playing with? Huh? What were you playing with, Cecilia?” He grabbed her shoulder. “Or should I ask, who?”

Celia jerked away, but she took only one step back, fighting him off with a defiant stare. “You can ask about Mark. Obviously I wasn’t playing with Mark. I was busy doing chores, and, yes, that’s my—”

“It’s not your job. Your job is that boy right—”

“Hey, Mark.” Cougar strolled into the barn, flashing Celia a reassuring glance on his way to the cat’s nursery. He squatted, touched Mark’s shoulder and then a couple of kittens. “Are they all there? Did you take a head count?”

Mark pressed a kitten under Cougar’s chin.

“Have you figured out how many boys and how many girls? I think the calico’s a girl.” He stood easily, confident in the silence his appearance had created. Without moving from the position he’d taken, he looked directly at Celia and offered a soft, intimate, “Hi.”

“Hello.” Silken calm slid over her. “I understand you two have met.”

“Yeah, Mark introduced us.” Cougar reached down to ruffle Mark’s hair. The boy looked up and smiled. “I’m glad you’re here. You can help me pick out a horse.”

“My son and I have plans,” Greg said. “I just stopped in to see what she had to say about what happened yesterday. So far—”

“I came over with Logan,” Cougar told Celia. “Called first this time.”

“That must be why the boys brought some of the horses in,” she said.

He glanced at Greg as though he were an image on a TV show that nobody was watching. “Mark and I can go take a look if you two need to talk.”

“Mark’s with me.” Greg moved to block Celia’s view of everyone but him. “It’s my weekend. Long as you’re both here, maybe you can explain exactly how my son came to be out in the road and why nobody saw him until he was nose to nose with—”

“Because he’s quick, and he’s small,” Cougar said. “Fate cut us a break. Be grateful.”

“Don’t tell me to be grateful.” Greg pivoted and postured, hands on hips. “You don’t know what we’re dealing with here. But you will if I see any more evidence of emotional or psychological trauma.”

Cougar chuckled. “You wanna sue me for something that didn’t happen? What are you, a lawyer?”

“No, but I have one.”

“Have at it, then. If I harmed this kid, I’ll make sure—”

“He wasn’t hurt,” Celia insisted quietly. “He’s fine, and he doesn’t need to hear this.”

“He can’t hear, remember?” Greg’s challenge swung from Celia to Cougar. “Doctors don’t know why, but I do. It’s because his mother left him to—”

“Greg, please. Let’s not do this now. You know what’s going to happen.” She continued to speak in hushed tones while Mark went right on attending to the kittens. He was protecting himself in ways that she could not, but still she would do what she could. Maybe he didn’t hear, but she believed he could, and when he was ready, he would. Meanwhile, he had keen senses, and she would not have him treated otherwise.

She moved past Greg and caught Mark’s attention. “Let’s go have a look at the mustangs.”

“Hell with the mustangs,” Greg bellowed. “Next thing I know, you’ll have him wandering into the path of a pack of wild horses.”

“They run in herds,” Cougar said.

“Put the cats down, Mark.” Greg grabbed Mark by the elbow and urged him to his feet. “We’re going to Rapid City. We’ll catch the snake show.” His big hand swallowed the child’s small one. “Like I said, I’ve got a lawyer. We’re not done yet, Cecilia. Not by a long shot.”

Cougar stood in the doorway and watched the boy tag along with his father, stretching his leash arm to its limit, dragging his toes in the dirt. He tamped down the urge to go after them, spring the ham-fisted trap and release the kid. Why wasn’t there some kind of law against adults using kids to even a score? Maybe Cougar should make one. He’d gladly enforce it.

Come on, Mark’s father, sue me.

“I’m sorry about that.” Celia’s soft voice drew him back into her company, where his anger began to cool. “I guess you could tell, we aren’t exactly on friendly terms. I try not to say very much when he gets going like that. It’s pointless to try to talk with him.” She touched his arm. “Thank you for understanding.”

“The guy already pissed me off once today, so the understanding part was easy. The hard part is watching Mark. He doesn’t want to go.”

“I know. But Greg has his new court order.” She didn’t sound too happy about it. “And his lawyer.”

“It’s none of my business,” he reminded himself aloud. “Unless he wants it to be. In that case, bring it on.”

“I hope not,” she said with a sigh. “I’m tired of fighting. It’s a distraction from figuring out what’s best for Mark.”

She sure sounded tired, and he felt bad about that, even though he was pretty sure whatever distraction he’d just caused hadn’t been a bad thing. The truth was, he’d headed straight for the barn when he saw the bread delivery truck parked beside her little blue Chevy. He was in the habit of filing away the details of every vehicle he saw, where he saw it and whether it might blow up in his face down the road. After the conversation he’d had with Mark’s father at the store, he’d done the math in his head—ex plus ex—and he’d chosen to butt in. It had taken him all of two minutes to develop a strong dislike for the man and become Celia’s natural ally.

Which might have just added to her difficulties, dumbass. You don’t know what’s going on betweenthese two people. When did you become lifeguard on this beach?

I saved a life yesterday, didn’t I?

You came within an inch of ending one. Two, if you count yours.

“I don’t have to pick out a horse today,” Cougar said. “I can wait for Mark.” Which was just a thought, in case anyone inside his head was listening.

“He loves them all. Whichever you choose, tell him you’ll share. Come look.” Celia gestured toward the far side of the barn. She led, and he followed.

They rounded the corner of the building, clambered up the tall rail fence and peered past a set of corrals. At least a dozen young horses milled about in a small pasture.

“They’ll let you handle it any way you want. Run them all into the pens for a close look, turn out the ones that don’t interest you, let you run your own test on those that do.” She grabbed a piece of her sorrel-colored hair away from the wind and anchored it behind her ear. “It’s fun to watch people make their selection. Sometimes they want the wildest one in the bunch. Other times you just know they’re looking for one that looks like he’s half asleep.”

“I want one that’s almost as smart as I am.” He smiled at her. “But not quite.”

“You said Logan was here? He’s the one you should confer with. Have you read his book?”

“His book?”

“The one about how he trains horses,” Celia said. “I can never remember titles, but it’s the author’s name that’s important, and Logan Wolf Track is the real deal.”

“The real deal, huh?” Cougar smiled. So that’s what a real deal looks like. “I figured he was a good trainer. Didn’t know he’d written a book, though.”

“It’s wonderful.” Celia scrambled back down the fence, and Cougar jumped down after her. “I knew nothing about horses when I started volunteering here, and my friend, Ann, gave me Logan’s book. Ann’s Sally’s sister. She’s a teacher, too. We both teach at…” She waved at something that caught her eye behind his back. “He’s over here!”

Cougar turned to find “the real deal” striding in his direction. Logan had parked in front of the house, and Cougar had promised to be along in a minute. No questions had been asked, no comments exchanged.

“Sally’s waiting for you to fill out some papers, cowboy,” Logan announced. “That’s one woman you don’t wanna keep waiting.”

“Why not? She kept me waiting.”

“That was yesterday. You keep her waiting today, you’ll just be giving her time to think up something the sanctuary needs that nobody but you can provide.” Logan clapped his hand on Cougar’s shoulder. “Because you’re just that special.”

“What’s your specialty?” Cougar asked Celia.

“Well, with a B.S. in education—Sally calls it a B.S. in BS-ing—we’ve found that I’m really good at distinguishing horse manure from boot polish.”

The men looked at each other.

“Shinola?” Celia insisted. “Boot polish?”

Both men grinned. “Long story short, there was a time when she kept Sally waiting,” Logan told Cougar.




Chapter Three


“I’m going with one of the Paints.”

Cougar laid the form on Sally Night Horse’s desk, most of the blanks, including the horse’s ID number, finally filled in. He’d been leaning toward a bay that showed strong Spanish Mustang traits when Celia mentioned her son’s attraction to the spotted horses, and the Medicine Hat gelding was the flashiest horse in the bunch.

“Good choice,” Logan said. The two men exchanged looks—Logan’s knowing, Cougar’s what the hell. “Medicine Hats are sacred, and that one has classic war bonnet markings. Brown ears, little brown cap on his head. He’ll show nicely.”

“He’ll cost you,” Sally said.

Sally Drexler Night Horse had a way of filling a room with energy. She was the positive charge in the Double D’s power grid, and her latest project had her chugging ahead full steam, even when she had to power up her wheelchair. Her office furniture gave her wide berth, and even though she wasn’t tied to the chair, she wasn’t apt to explain or deny it, either. Sally was in charge.

Clearly when she said pay up, a guy was expected to ask, “How much?”

“Your cowboy ass planted firmly on the line. Or the fence.” Sally leaned to one side as though she were trying to get a look at the new applicant’s backside. “In the saddle is good, too. We need eye candy for a documentary we’re shooting.”

“That Paint is pretty sweet.” Cougar slid Logan a what’s-up-with-this look. Logan chuckled.

“True, but you’re the real bonbon. Put the two of you together…” She gave Cougar a sassy wink. “YouTube, here we come. And we’ll be goin’ viral.”

“What do I have to do?” Cougar asked. He barely knew what YouTube was, which was already considerably more than he cared to know.

“The woman who’s doing the video—Skyler Quinn—Logan’s son, Trace, knows her pretty well. Right, Logan? The Double D is giving Match.com a run for their money lately. They hook you up on paper—or what passes for paper these days—but we make matches on the ground right here in horse heaven.”

Logan laughed. “Skyler has Trace carrying her camera bags and loving every minute of it, all right.”

“Sally’s got talent,” Sally quipped as she started scanning his application. “My husband, Hank, may be the singer in the family, but I know a thing or two about harmony. I know future soul mates when I see them.”

She glanced over the edge of the paper and gave Cougar a loaded look with an enigmatic smile, which almost scared him. He was a private man, and right now she was holding some of the keys to his privacy on what had always passed for paper.

She went on reading, all innocence.

“Anyway, Skyler’s out in Wyoming, and you’re located in that beautiful, rugged, picturesque Wind River country. She’ll love that.” Sally flipped the application in Cougar’s direction and pointed to a blank space. “You forgot to fill out this part. Location, location, location.”

“I’m… kinda between locations.”

“What does that mean?”

“Between a VA hospital and a home site in Shoshone country,” he said impatiently.

The sergeant was supposed to have laid the groundwork here. If anybody had a problem with his recent history, he wasn’t going to waste his time with any damned application. He’d been banged up a little and spent some time getting his head straight. He wasn’t about to open up his medical records to get into a horse contest.

“But you ranch,” Sally affirmed, adjusting her glasses as she took another look at what he was beginning to regard as his test paper.

“Did I say I’m ranching now?” The muscles in the back of his neck were threatening to knot up beneath the short hairs she was tugging on. “It doesn’t say I’m still ranching. It says that’s one of my qualifications. Right?”

In the time it took him to draw one of those cleansing breaths he’d been taught to practice, he was able to put everyone in the room out of his mind. It was just a piece of paper. “The answer to this question is ranching,” he said calmly as he tapped the word with an instructive finger. “And this one… Wind River is where I’m from.” He pushed the paper across the desk. “I put Sergeant Tutan down as a reference. Call her.”

Sally turned the paper over. “Mary’s your only reference?”

“Why didn’t you put me down?” Logan asked him. “You’re bringing the mustang over to my place.”

“For a few days.” Had he accidently walked into a damn bank? He had half a mind to turn on his heel and walk out.

But his other half a mind remembered how far he’d have to walk to get to Sinte, where he’d left his roof and his ride—the two things he owned the keys to.

And the whole of his mind was set on taking on that Paint gelding with the sweet brown “cap” pulled down over his ears. He had no idea what kind of endurance horse he’d make, but he didn’t care about winning an endurance event. Running it from start to finish would do fine.

“I have a few acres. My brother and I turned our lease back and sold…” Be damned if he was going to stand here and recite his whole life story. He was glad Celia had gone back to the straightforward BS in the barn. “Look, I’m a civilian now, pretty much starting over.”

Sally looked up with a genuine, no BS smile. “All we need is a location and a description of your facilities.”

“Put down my place,” Logan told her. “Are you coming to the celebration? You and Hank?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. I hear Mary’s coming home.”

He turned to Cougar, grinning like a proud papa. “Don’t say anything, but the celebration’s for her. She just got a Commendation medal. Meritorious achievement. Did she tell you?”

“She didn’t. That’s some eagle feather to cap off a career.”

“No kidding.” Logan tapped Cougar’s chest with the back of his hand. “You’re coming, right? I need a color guard. You got your uniform packed away in that trailer of yours?”

“Your Lakota VFW will want to do the honors.” Cougar had put his army green away for good. “But I’ll be there. I’ll step up to the microphone and pay tribute to her the Indian way.”

“Put down my place,” Logan urged Sally with the distinctively Indian version of a chin jerk.

“Cougar?” She wanted his word.

“Is that okay with you?” Cougar asked her.

“For now,” she said. “But if anything changes…”

“I’m not gonna run off with your horse.”

“I’m not worried about that, Cougar, and he’s not my horse. I answer to the Bureau of Land Management, and you know how that goes. Red tape from here to Texas.”

“Stand down, soldier,” Logan said. “You’re set for now. But you’ll have to let Sally get some of that Shoshone country video footage she’s lookin’ for.”

“Footage is boring,” Sally said as she signed the form. She swung her chair and fed Cougar’s commitment into her copier. She punched a button and followed up with a punch to the air. “Woo-hoo! Chalk up another Indian cowboy for the cause. Women are our target market, and they’re not looking at your boots, boys.”

Cougar had to laugh. He took damn good care of his boots. Spit and Shinola.

“You have a clean barn, Sally.”

Cougar turned toward the voice. Celia stood in the office doorway, her shiny pink face framed by zigzagging tendrils of damp hair. The smudge on her jaw—some kind of boot polish, no doubt—called out for a friendly thumb to wipe it off. He rubbed his itchy palm on the outside seam of his jeans.

“Hey, Celia, thanks,” Sally said. “You want some lunch?”

“I wondered if you wanted me to grain the horses they just brought in.”

“Actually, I’m short-handed today, and there’s something else I had in mind for you.” Sally’s dramatic pause drew Cougar’s attention. “We really depend on our volunteers. They’re mostly women, and I just hate piling so much on such slim shoulders.”

Celia laughed. “Since when?”

“I know I don’t thank you often enough, Celia, but I’m trying to do that right now,” Sally deadpanned. “And in a meaningful way.”

“I could help out while I’m here,” Cougar said. “What do you want done?”

Sally hiked up the corners of her mouth, nodded and winked at him in a way that just didn’t seem right for a married woman. “Put the man to work, Celia,” she said.

Logan cleared his throat. “He rode over with me, and I have a—”

“Few hours to contribute? We’re hauling bales and riding fence. Take your pick.”

“I’ll have to take door number three,” Logan said. “The one marked Exit.”

“But you’re already committed,” Sally said, cocking a finger at Cougar. “You’ll be helping Celia, and she’ll give you a ride back to Sinte.” She glanced at Celia. “Is that okay with you?”

“What’s the assignment?”

“Find out how six of our horses got into Tutan’s pasture.” Sally took off her glasses and waved them at Logan. “Your father-in-law—my damned neighbor—called the sheriff again. He doesn’t believe in handling these things between neighbors.”

“My father-in-law.” Logan shook his head. “That’s a real kicker.”

“I sent a couple of the kids out, but they came up empty, said they couldn’t find any fence down. I just want to make sure. If there’s a hole in that fence, we’ll get it fixed before Mary gets back.” She made a smooth-sailing gesture. “Peace in the valley for Mary’s sake. You think he’ll show up at the celebration?”

“I doubt it. But she’ll want to see her mother. She’s only got three days this time.” Logan lifted one shoulder. “Kinda sorry I planned this party now. Only three days.”

“She’s a short-timer,” Sally said. “Pretty soon she’ll be home for good. But I wouldn’t put it past your father-in-law





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