“Rodeo taught me that life is a bitch. You’re ridin’ high and a fall brings you to rock bottom. Rodeo also taught me that home is where you make it. I make mine wherever K.T. goes.”
The silence after that was lengthy, then Jake spoke again. “That boy – Case – seems to me he’d be a good hand with a horse. Asked if I thought he could learn to ride. I expect I could help with that.”
Wolf nodded and his heart eased. “I expect you could.” If Kylah agreed to stay.
* * *
Kylah was content. Jake had brought out the propane heater and served hamburgers complete with buns, lettuce, tomatoes, and anything else they could think to put on them. Spring had turned indecisive and the air held a winter chill, but the night was pretty and clear.
She and Wolf sat close but not touching. Their canvas folding chairs, with Jake’s, were arranged in a semi-circle, the better to hear Wolf’s depiction of the meeting with Raymond Latimer and how Trouble had led him there. The fourth chair stayed empty as Trouble had chosen her lap over the canvas bottom, she suspected in response to the unexpected cold.
“So, Trouble turned the tide, again,” Kylah murmured and the cat rumbled a purr against her ribs.
“I like to think I would eventually have figured it out.” Wolf chuckled as the cat’s gaze swung his way, “But I suspect Trouble knows better.”
“I guess he’ll be leaving us now that the murders are solved.” Kylah felt more than a little sad at the thought. She’d grown fond of his sassy self. She’d never considered owning a cat before – or allowing one to own her – with her nomadic lifestyle, yet she was giving it some real thought now. Trouble seemed to adapt to his surroundings without difficulty. So, maybe.
“What do you think, Trouble?” Wolf asked. “Are you ready to strike out on your own? Shall I call your Tammy Lynn to come get you? Or would you rather hang with us for a while longer?”
Jake got to his feet. “Y’all carry on with that conversation. I’m going to feed.”
Kylah smiled as he walked away. “He’s as much in awe of Trouble as we are. Not that he’s going to admit to it.” But even she was impressed when Trouble stepped nimbly from her lap to Wolf’s and patted the pocket of his jeans where he typically carried his phone.
Wolf pulled it free and rubbed Trouble’s neck. “So, it’s call Tammy Lynn, is it?”
Trouble touched the phone lightly and accompanied it with a solid meow.
Kylah only half listened as Wolf made the call. Trouble would be leaving soon and so would she. She’d already begun to accept that saying good-bye to Wolf wouldn’t be easy but the wrench she felt as that moment drew closer was so much more than not easy. Apparently, she wasn’t a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of gal, she thought with a forced flippancy that soon faded. The truth was, she’d never expected to feel this way. Not again.
Wolf stood up as he ended the connection with Tammy Lynn and looked at Kylah. “Take a walk?”
“Sure.” She stood and took the hand he held out to her.
Trouble declined to follow, settling into the warmth of the chair Wolf had vacated.
They walked slowly, ambled really, hand in hand with no particular destination.
Neither spoke for several minutes, but Kylah wasn’t one to wait for the inevitable. She’d always found it better to meet facts head on. “I guess the sheriff is going to let us all disband now.”
“Pretty much. He’ll want contact information to be able to reach out to key witnesses, of course.”
“Of course,” she murmured.
The silence between them was so complete she could hear the crunch of gravel beneath their feet louder than the beat of her own heart.
“I’m hoping he won’t have to worry about that where you’re concerned.”
Kylah stumbled over an invisible rock. “As in, not need to talk to me?”
“No.” Wolf stopped and tugged the hand he held. When she stopped as well, he turned her to face him. “As in, what if you stay? What if you’re close enough he can stop by and chat with you if he needs to.”
“I’m not good at guessing games,” she said hesitantly. Her heart was in her throat or, horrible thought, still wildly beating in her chest but completely visible to him.
“You don’t need to be. Not with me. I’ll never make you guess.” He studied her face, as if trying to read her. Or memorize her. “Stay with me, Kylah. Please.”
A thousand thoughts and fears and questions filled her mind, clamoring to be heard. In the end she pushed all of that aside for one reason. In her chaotic mixture of emotions, the one thing she didn’t feel was doubt. “Yes,” she said softly.
Wolf pulled her close and murmured, “Thank God.”
“So … what do we do now?”
“Nothing hard about that,” he said, and then he kissed her.
* * *
Kylah seems in a pensive mood, which I find surprising given the happy ever after exchange last evening. Oh, my word, I certainly hope second thoughts are not now buggering the romance just as I await my Tammy Lynn’s arrival. I’ll have no time to set things right should that prove the case.
I note Jake’s small frown as he drinks his morning coffee and watches as Kylah’s grows cold in her hand. He senses her brooding as well. “What’s on your mind?”
Kylah pulls a folded slip of paper from her pocket. “This.” She unfolds it and begins to read. “I guess if you’re reading this, I did it. Finally. I’m sorry, babe, I can’t carry the weight inside me anymore. Love you most, M.” Her voice breaks on that last letter. I’ve overheard enough conversations to know the M stands for Marty, the husband who was not strong enough for this life.
Jake says nothing. Just watches and waits.
“I feel guilty letting go. There’s no one left to remember Marty. To care that he lived and that he died.”
“Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting, K.T. You’ll always care and you’ll never forget. I suspect Marty loved you enough to want you to be happy. And I think Wolf is the guy to make sure you are.”
Kylah looks across at Jake and there are tears in her eyes, but they do not fall. She takes a deep breath. “I think so, too, Jake.”
“At least I won’t have to worry about some stranger picking you up drunk in a bar anymore.”
“Well, the two who did got me home safe, now didn’t they?” A faint smile curves her lips as Jake snorts and gets to his feet.
Kylah stands as well and I leap from my perch on the steps of the living quarters. I might as well watch the fun of cleaning stalls and saddling horses until my human arrives to take me home. There will be exciting times to come as Wolf helps Kylah and Jake relocate these and her remaining horses to his neck of the woods, as they say. But I’ll be safely home with Tammy Lynn by then.
We match Jake’s unhurried pace toward the barn and tiny scraps of shredded paper drift from Kylah’s fingers to land in the dust at my paws.
Kylah’s heart has moved on at last and I believe that to be a good thing.
A Whisper of Trouble
Trouble Cat Mysteries #12
Chapter One
Hmmmm, I seem to recall some old series about a dog whisperer on the telly. No need to worry about such a thing for cats, as there would be no demand for their services. We felines are altogether self-reliant.
This horse whisperer person intrigues me but appears to have made no inroads with the wild-eyed equine staring back at her from the center of the round pen. Liz O’Neal—and her name suits her, I think—arrived a few hours ago. She’s tall for a female biped and perhaps a bit on the thin side. Her features are striking. Not movie star pretty but memorable which is perhaps even more attractive. I’m an eye connoisseur, myself, and hers are the color of fine whiskey. I will admit, I’m also a leg aficionado but, with her gams covered in denim, there’s not much to be seen there.
Next to her, Tucker Hollis, resident veterinarian for Summer Valley Ranch, watches the wary animal as well. Tucker’s one of tho
se studious types but much stronger than his wiry frame would indicate to the casual observer.
“And you’re the only person who’s been able to handle him?” Liz asks the vet.
Even more intriguing than her eyes is that smooth voice with the faint lilt of some accent I haven’t quite placed. I could listen to her for hours but, alas, that shall not happen. I believe Tammy Lynn and I are to depart for home as soon as she returns from an extended, and doubtless exhausting, book tour with a friend. My visit here has been all too brief though enjoyable as always…well, enjoyable save for the fact that I was due some rather nasty vaccinations along with my annual physical. My human knows I prefer the ministrations of Tucker to those of our local vet.
“Me and the girl who brought him to us. Says she got him from a kill pen.” Tucker props his arm on the rail of the round pen.
“But you don’t believe her.” It isn’t a question.
So, she caught that undercurrent as well. Very astute of her as she hasn’t the benefit of a longtime acquaintance with Tucker as I have.
He looks at her surprised but answers without hesitation, “Not sure if I do or if I don’t. She pulled up in a dilapidated truck and trailer and said she was passing through some little nowhere town and chanced on a kill-pen sale and he caught her eye. Then she just happened to hear about Avery and her rescues and found her way here.”
She shrugs “But?”
“Not but so much as and. She’s afraid of something and it’s not this crazy-ass horse.”
“Is she still here? I’d like to meet her.”
“She is for now and I’d like to hire her. She’s a hand with a horse, for sure, but she plans to move on before long.” Tucker straightens his shoulders. “You ready to get to work?”
“I’ve already begun but I’ll need you to leave now.”
That draws a scowl. “I’m sure you’ve noticed this guy’s a stud which makes him unpredictable under the best of circumstances. And his haven’t been the best. Avery will have my hide if I let anything happen to you.”
“She’s just as likely to do so if you get in the way of the work she’s paying me to do. I’m not cheap. And I don’t need a watchdog.”
I find it interesting that there’s no bite to that last, just a touch of wry humor. She recognizes that Tucker’s concern comes from a good place.
For a moment it appears there will be what some bipeds call a Mexican standoff although why they do so I have no idea. But Tucker relents with a snort or at least he appears to give way to her insistence. I suspect his saunter won’t carry him out of shouting distance. I would, in fact, bet my next filet mignon on that. Too, he knows that I’m on the job and gives me a speaking glance on his way to being gone. I give him a one-eyed blink to let him know I’ve got the situation covered.
* * *
Liz focused all of her attention on the animal. He felt it. Didn’t like it. His ears flattened a bit. But he’d get used to it. She didn’t win all of them, couldn’t save all of them, but failure was rare and she already sensed the hope of trust with this one. He’d been neglected and hurt so he was frightened and sad—more sad than anything. It weighed on her, that sadness. But he’d been loved once and he remembered that affection. If the memory was stronger than the mishandling, she stood a chance with him. She suspected he’d been mistreated more from ignorance than from cruelty. His handlers had lacked the knowledge and the skill—and perhaps the patience—so necessary in dealing with animals in general and young animals in particular. There was no rage in him, no desire to strike back except in self-defense of what might happen to him next. That wasn’t just something. At this point, that was everything.
She climbed the iron rail fence with easy movements. Liz wasn’t surprised when the animal scooted away to the far side. She stopped at the top rail where she threw her legs over and sat, quiet and still, studying him. The vet, Tucker, said he hadn’t been able to determine the horse’s age. Any attempt to open his mouth had met with a fight. Liz suspected he was little more than a youngster…three or four, perhaps.
“I’m told they call you Owen.” He blew softly at the sound of her voice. “That’s a good, solid name. A strong name.” Welsh, she thought. The meaning eluded her at the moment but she’d take time to look it up later. Things like that mattered. Names mattered.
He was beautiful. A dark brown bay, one of the colors she liked best. He wasn’t all that large. Somewhere between fourteen and fifteen hands, but wide and muscular through the chest. His eyes were large and as dark a brown as his coat. Liz reminded herself not to fall in love but she knew she wouldn’t heed her own warning. She fell in love with all of them. Every time.
After longer than she thought it would take, he flicked his ears in a different direction, acknowledging her to be no threat. At least not from her current position. Liz eased down from the fence and into the round pen. The horse lifted his head in quick alarm but didn’t bolt. That would have created the type of hazard Tucker had feared. If the colt bolted, there was no place to run but around the pen and over her. He didn’t seem so inclined.
She turned her back to him and studied the beautiful cat that had been with them since her arrival. His fur gleamed black in the morning sun. His green eyes blinked lazily when they moved at all. For the most part, they simply watched her from the other side of the fence.
Behind her the horse stirred. She forced herself not to look over her shoulder as he took a single step toward her. It was a beginning but a very small one. Patience was everything.
She was waiting for that next step when she heard voices moving towards her. Forcing herself not to frown at the disruption, she watched as Tucker and a second man—taller and broader of shoulder—came through the trees that shaded the round pen.
“The stallion may have been taken from Italy.” The second man spoke to Tucker in quiet tones in deference to the skittish horse but Liz heard all too well. “If so, I’ve been sent to take him home.” And everything inside of Liz bristled at the words.
End of excerpt from A Whisper of Trouble
by Susan Y. Tanner
Trouble Cat Mysteries #12
About the Author
Susan Y. Tanner continues to blend her passion for horses with her passion for writing. In Trouble in Summer Valley, she introduced readers to the rescue horses of Summer Valley Ranch where they prove their worth in therapeutic riding. In Turning for Trouble, her own rodeo experience brings that rough and tumble world to life. Her third romantic mystery, Trouble in Action, showcases the risky profession of stunt riding while giving a glimpse into historical reenactments. A Whisper of Trouble provides a glimpse into a talent practiced by few…the art of horse whispering. Published by KaliOka Press, these romantic mysteries feature a super-sleuth in the form of a black cat detective. They are part of the Trouble Cat Detective series written in concert with some very talented authors.
Ms. Tanner’s five historical romances—Highland Captive, Captive to a Dream, Exiled Heart, Fire Across Texas, Winds Across Texas, and A Warm Southern Christmas (a novella)—have been rereleased by Secret Staircase Books, an imprint of Columbine Publishing. All were previously published by Leisure Books.
susanytanner.com
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Familiar Trouble | Carolyn Haines
Trouble in Dixie | Rebecca Barrett
Trouble in Tallahassee | Claire Matturro
Trouble in Summer Valley | Susan Y. Tanner
Small Town Trouble | Laura Benedict
Trouble in Paradise | Rebecca Barrett
Turning for Trouble | Susan Y. Tanner<
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Trouble’s Wedding Caper | Jen Talty
Bone-a-fied Trouble | Carolyn Haines
Trouble in Action | Susan Y. Tanner
Trouble Most Faire | Jaden Terrell
A Whisper of Trouble | Susan Y. Tanner
The Trouble with Cupid: 10 Short Mysteries Spiced with Romance | Multiple Authors
Trouble Under the Mistletoe | e-novella | Rebecca Barrett
A Trouble’d Christmas | e-novella | Susan Y. Tanner
Year-Round Trouble: 14 Original Cozy Holiday Mysteries | Multiple Authors
The Trouble with Horses Page 61