The Last MacKlenna

by Katherine Lowry Logan

  She nodded.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t tell Elliott,” she said. “It’ll upset him.”

  David dimmed the lights in the room and turned up the heat. “I don’t keep secrets from him, but he doesn’t need to know ye’ threw up.”

  She forced a smile. “Would you bring me some crackers, too?”

  “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

  Meredith remained seated until David returned. She felt a bit weak and wanted him close by in case she wobbled when she walked.

  He stood in the doorway holding a can of 7-UP and a box of crackers. “Do ye’ want these in here or in the bedroom?”

  Meredith grabbed the towel bar and pulled herself to her feet. “Put them by the bed. I want to brush my teeth.” A couple of minutes later, she sat on the bed and put her feet up.

  David popped the top of the can. “Drink up.”

  With the soft drink in one hand and cracker in the other, she sipped and nibbled. After a few minutes, she began to feel better. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

  Tabor jumped up on the bed and stretched out, purring. Meredith once again ran her fingers through his long, dense fur, and he purred even louder. “You’re spoiled rotten, too, aren’t you?”

  Tate bounded into the room and jumped up on the bed.

  “Tate, get down,” David said.

  The dog didn’t listen. Instead, he plopped next to Tabor and stretched out alongside the cat.

  “They need to spend time with Annabella. She’d teach them manners,” David said.

  “Annabella is well behaved,” Meredith said.

  Tate’s ears perked forward.

  Meredith scratched his belly. “Yes, you’d like Annabella. I bet she doesn’t sleep on the bed.”

  David chuckled. “Annabella has to have her feet cleaned when she comes in the house. She’ll stand in the kitchen and wait.”

  “If Elliott taught her that, why can’t he teach these two?”

  “Tate grew up going on long treks in a covered wagon with Sean, Mary, and Kit and learned to run wild.”

  “Really? Where’d they go?”

  “Wyoming, Idaho, Oregon. They were pioneer reenactors.”

  “That is so weird. I just found out that my great-great-great-grandmother, Kitherina Montgomery, was a MacKlenna from Lexington, Kentucky, and that she traveled west in 1852. Do you know if there are other MacKlennas in town?”

  David rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t know.”

  “I’ll ask Elliott.”

  “Now that ye’ve got two bodyguards, I’m going over to the complex and see how the meeting is getting on,” David said.

  Tabor got up, stretched, then climbed into Meredith’s lap. “Go on,” she said to David. “I’ll be right here waiting.”

  “Don’t leave, and don’t let anyone in the house.”

  “I’m not twelve. I’ll be fine. Go.” She leaned against the headboard and drifted off. Tate woke her, jiggling his dog tags. “What’s the matter, boy?”

  He jumped to the floor and ran to the door barking.

  “You want to go out?” Meredith asked, yawning.

  He barked again.

  She slipped on her boots and grabbed her coat. “Let’s go.” As soon as she opened the door in the kitchen, the dog ran off. “Tate, come back.” She didn’t know whether to let him go or go after him. It was eleven-fifteen. Was he even allowed out alone at night? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t about to let anything happen to Elliott’s dog. The night air was cool and crisp. A short walk would make her feel better.

  The snow-covered ground crunched with each step. The lighted path circled around to the side of the house that faced the stallion complex. “Tate. Come here, Tate.” No dog in sight. The path ended a few yards away where it intersected with the interior asphalt road that meandered through the two thousand acre farm.

  Twinkling stars and a full moon illuminated the multi-barn stallion complex that dotted the landscape with dozens of yellow lights. Tate would either go looking for critters or people. The sociable dog would go looking for people first. Meredith hadn’t seen Stormy since the day he went to the hospital, so she decided to start the search in his barn.

  The door was open a crack, which surprised her. Surely, after all that had happened, the door would stay securely closed. Maybe security was making rounds. Night lights lit the interior, providing enough light to see but not much else.

  “Tate,” she called in a quiet voice, not wanting to excite the horses. She crossed the open, brick-floored area. Stormy’s stall was on the opposite side of the barn.

  She stood in front of his door. “Hi, big boy. How’re you feeling?”

  Stormy pawed the padded floor.

  “What’s wrong?” She pushed her hand through the space between the bars, wishing she had a cube of sugar or an apple. He didn’t move. Meredith opened the door and entered. “Come here.” He still didn’t move.

  “What are you doing here?” a voice asked.

  Meredith jumped, her heart racing. The deep James Earl Jones sounding voice belonged to Doc, but the tone held a hard sinister edge.

  “I said, what are you doing here?”

  She flinched. “Doc, you scared me.” She licked her lips. “I . . . I was looking for Tate.”

  “He’s not here.”

  There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just Doc. “Does he run loose at night?”

  Doc remained hidden in the shadow. “That damn mutt does whatever he pleases. Elliott’s ruined him.”

  Meredith gave a nervous laugh. “I heard Mary MacKlenna was responsible for that.”

  “Would have ruined Stormy, too, if I hadn’t taken over the vet job.” His heavy voice fueled her fear.

  Stormy snorted loudly and fixed an intense stare.

  “How’s his leg?”

  “Healing. It’s late. You shouldn’t be here.”

  She fisted her hands and took a step forward. Her foot rammed into something hard on the floor. She glanced down and recognized a vet’s bag. Her heart went to her throat. “Something’s wrong with him. That’s why you’re here.” She patted Stormy’s head. “Is he sick, or is it his leg?”

  Doc stepped out of the shadowed corner, holding Stormy’s halter with one hand. His other hand was hidden behind his back.

  Adrenalin pumped faster through her veins in a pulse-raising moment. Her ability to sense danger was as well-defined as any other member of the human race. In the dark, in the quiet, danger was palpable. But why? Doc wouldn’t hurt her.

  “What’s behind your back?” she asked.

  He stepped closer, releasing his hold of the halter. “You shouldn’t have come in here.”

  “I’ll leave, then.” She took a step backwards. “You can get back to doing whatever you were doing.”

  He grabbed her in a headlock, rattlesnake fast.

  “You’re hurting my neck.” The pinched nerve was going to start bothering her again. She twisted her body to get away from him. “Stop. You’re hurting me.”

  He squeezed his arm around her throat.

  She elbowed him in the gut, a linebacker-sized gut, solid as steel. Her punch was as ineffectual as a shout in a frenzied crowd.

  This can’t be happening. If she didn’t stop him, he would kill her. He would kill her baby. The pain grew branding-iron-hot. She couldn’t breathe. She clawed at his arm, trying to break his hold before he choked off all her breath. The dim room grew darker. Lightheaded, she fought with the same reserve that saw her through the last six miles of a marathon. She slammed her heel into the top of his foot.

  “Bitch. Steel boots. Horses have tried harder.”

  His breath smelled of beer and garlic. She gagged. You’ve got to fight. Don’t give up. She kicked and clawed. This was a man used to controlling thousand pound horses. He held up his hand. Her eyes widened. He had a syringe with his thumb on the plunger. Beads of sweat coated her upper lip. Hope diminished with her brea
th. Let go of me. Tears filled her eyes. Her heart pounded jack-hammer-fast with enough force to bruise her.

  “This will hurt that son of a bitch more than killing his damn horses.”

  “Why?” she asked in a barely audible voice.

  “They cheated me. They got millions. I got nothing but horses shoving me against walls. Had more broken bones than a jockey. I should’ve had a share. I deserved it. They’ll suffer for what they did to me.” He pressed the needle against her neck.

  “They’ll catch you,” she said, her knees jellying.

  “I’m too smart for them.”

  Her heart rasped with her breath. Flashes of her life appeared before her eyes. Years flew by in a second. All of the people who had been important to her emerged for a brief moment. Mother, father, grandparents, Elliott, and the baby in her womb, all intermingled with grapes and bottles of wine.

  It can’t all end. Not now. Not like this.

  The needle punctured her skin.

  Please, help me.

  Stormy reared, screaming a loud roar of rage. The other stallions snorted and stomped, creating the thunderous sound of a stampeding herd. The walls shook. Stormy’s hoof caught the side of Doc’s head. He fell, pulling her with him. The needle dropped from his hand and scraped the side of her neck. Warm liquid dripped to her shoulder. She pushed away from his arm, rolled onto her side, and slowly pulled to her knees. Breathing took effort. She willed herself to her feet, but she couldn’t breathe and fell backwards. Everything blurred. She could see nothing. Hear nothing. Feel nothing.

  Then she could see everything clearly.

  She floated out of her physical body, finding she no longer had chest-caving pain or raw-knuckled fear. Doc lay motionless on the straw. Blood gushed from his head. His silver hair turned crimson. Stormy stood calmly as she patted his nose. His big brown eyes no longer reflected her image.

  She glanced up and smiled. “You’re here.”

  “I was sent to protect ye’,” Cullen Montgomery said, sitting atop Stormy’s back.

  “You failed.”

  “Nay, lass, I didn’t.”

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  MacKlenna Farm Stallion Complex Conference Room – February 13

  ELLIOTT SAT IN a leather, swivel chair at the large, oval-shaped table in the conference room. His stomach churned with frustration. From the signals David had sent him, he knew Meredith was in bed entertaining Tate and Tabor. He should be with her, or at least, send her another text that he’d be there soon. But when he was in meetings with the board of directors, he didn’t check or send messages. The members received his full attention. Tonight, though, the brain-draining meeting had siphoned off about seventy-five percent of his full attention. The members rehashed the same points for the fourth time.

  He went back many years with the men and women seated at the table. They were fair and honest. However, none had ever been in the position they now found themselves. Some grimaced with lowered chins; others had stiff postures and rushed speech. They were embarrassed and frustrated, and he didn’t blame them. They were all gun-drawn serious about finding a solution and refused to believe there might not be one.

  David signaled the time. The meeting had to end, but there was little shifting in that direction. Elliott had uneasiness about Meredith. He signaled David to go check on her. Before David could leave the room, a security guard opened the door and stuck his head around the door jam.

  “I just heard a stallion scream,” the guard said in a panic-laced voice.

  Ten people jumped to their feet.

  Bone-melting fear raced through Elliott’s veins. “What barn?”

  “I can’t tell,” the guard said.

  “Notify Jake and Doc.” Elliott’s heart quickened as he left the room. “Get the paramedic on call, too.” Lyles had put him back in a walking boot hours earlier and told him no fast walking. “Could be a fire,” Elliott said, limping toward the exit.

  Manning grabbed his coat and followed Elliott out of the conference room. “There’s no alarm.”

  “If a fire was intentionally set, they could have cut the circuit. Damn it. If we lose another horse, there won’t be anything left for the bankruptcy court to liquidate,” Elliott said.

  David already had the door open. He handed Elliott a cane. “Use this.” He waved it away, but David shoved it into his hand.

  Elliott accepted it with a growl. He pushed through the door and took a big whiff of cold air. No smoke. He breathed relief, but fear remained lodged in his throat. He cut across the crisp snow. Security guards driving converted golf carts painted MacKlenna Farm green drove up, and a half dozen guards spilled out.

  “Spread out,” Elliott ordered. “Check each barn. I’m going in Number One. David and Jim, come with me.” When they reached the door, they found it ajar. “This shouldn’t be open.”

  David withdrew his sidearm. “You two stay here.”

  “The light switch is on the right side.” Elliott leaned on the cane, glancing around. Lights had come on in all the barns. The kitchen light was on in the house. He couldn’t see Kit’s bedroom from where he stood. Are you awake, Meredith? His nerve endings bristled, warning him, but of what he didn’t know. If Meredith would come to the door, the iron-grip intensity in his gut would slacken.

  Kevin drove up in his truck and came to a screeching stop. He barely turned off the engine before he jumped out. “Nobody’s at the security gate. What’s going on?”

  “A stallion screamed.”

  “Why?”

  “We don’t know,” Jim said.

  “Why don’t you go inside?”

  “Damn it, Kevin. Be quiet.”

  The lights came on inside the barn. Elliott waited with barely contained patience. A minute passed, then another. He’d give David thirty more seconds.

  David shouted, “Elliott.”

  He hurried through the door. “Where are you?”

  “Stormy’s stall. Meredith’s down. Doc’s dead. Call 911.” David’s tone sounded in-the-trenches intense.

  Blood-spiking fear enveloped Elliott. “You said she was in bed,” Elliott said, hobbling toward the stall.

  “She was.”

  Elliott held back his own scream. Getting to her any faster was impossible. In five years, he’d never wanted full use of his leg as much as he wanted it at that moment.

  Kevin hurried ahead, making the 911 call as he ran. “Get the bus to Barn One now.”

  Manning wrapped his arm around Elliott’s shoulders. “Lean in to me. We’ll go together.”

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  MacKlenna Farm Stallion Barn – February 13

  FROM ABOVE, Meredith had watched the golf carts full of security personnel gather outside the barns. She had watched Elliott pace as he waited for David to finish the search. She had tried to tell Elliott that she loved him, but he couldn’t hear her.

  Now, Kevin knelt next to her body. “Meredith, can you hear me?” He felt for a pulse. “She has a pulse, but she’s not breathing.” He tilted her head and lifted her chin to keep her airway open, pinching her nose and placing his mouth over hers.

  Elliott limped into the stall and fell to his knees. “My God, what happened?”

  “She has a puncture wound on her neck. Doc may have injected her,” David said.

  “With what?”

  “Don’t know,” David said.

  Elliott sat beside Meredith and held her hand. “I’ll do that, Kevin.”

  “No,” Kevin said, pausing between breaths to let the air flow out. Her chest didn’t rise and fall. He retilted her head and tried again. “Check her pulse.”

  Elliott did. “Thready.”

  “Ambulance?” Kevin said before giving her more breaths.

  “I see the lights,” David said. “It’s here. What do you need?”

  “Bag her, now.”

  “Get Stormy out of here,” Elliott said.

  A groom rushed in and led the horse away. Cullen Montgomery
stood beside Meredith, watching.

  “Breathe, Meredith,” Kevin said. “I won’t let you die. Breathe.”

  You’re too late, Kevin. Doc killed me, Meredith said.

  The ghost pointed toward her lifeless body. Ye’ need to go back.

  “Breathe, my wee sweetheart.” Elliott lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “Don’t give up. Breathe.”

  It’s not yer time, the ghost said.

  If not now, then soon. I have cancer, Meredith said.

  Elliott’s waiting. So is yer son, the ghost said. Go now.

  Meredith slipped back into her body. Elliott and Kevin faded into the distance. Their voices quieted. Then she heard nothing more.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  MacKlenna Farm Stallion Barn – February 13

  “THERE’S A SYRINGE over there,” Elliott said, pointing.

  David picked it up. “It’s empty.”

  “Look in the vet bag. Find out what he used,” Elliott said.

  David grabbed a bottle out of the bag and read the label. “Pentobarbital.”

  Elliott and Kevin locked eyes. “Keep breathing for her,” Elliott said.

  “Looks like Stormy kicked Doc in the head. The horse probably saved her life,” David said.

  The ambulance drove into the barn and cut the engine.

  “In here,” David said, waving from inside Stormy’s stall.

  A paramedic entered. “What’s the situation, Kevin?”

  “One dead. One injected with Pentobarbital. We need to bag her,” Kevin said between breathing for Meredith.

  The paramedic ran back to the ambulance and returned with a bag-value-mask. “Do you want me to do it?”

  Kevin shook his head. The paramedic gave him a pair of gloves. Kevin inserted the airway, the tube, and placed the mask over her nose. “Check her pulse.”

  The paramedic took her vitals. “Keep her breathing.”

  Kevin began ventilation. “Let’s get her out of here.”

  Elliott remained at her side, chin and lips trembling, never letting go of her cold hand.

  The paramedic and David got Meredith onto the gurney and into the ambulance while Kevin continued to intubate her.