Mary Beth wanted to know more about the mysterious girl, but she sensed that Jacob might take any approach as a threat, and the way he handled his knife on the ranch made it clear that any threat would be quickly dispatched. So she kept her distance, trying to figure out Jacob on the ranch and Kip from her table at the café.
Aside from Jacob’s cold work demeanor, the ranch days were pretty much what she’d hoped they’d be. She never saw Buck, although she kept an eye out for him at all times. But the horses and cows kept her busy.
The ranch horses—sturdy, efficient, trained animals—did indeed need a lot of maintenance, and Mary Beth enjoyed working on them. But she was itching to see the mustangs Bill had told her about. Finally, one Thursday after they’d spent the morning on the ranch horses, Jacob saddled up Jezebel and pointed the horses away from the normal trail to the pastures.
“Where are we going?” she finally asked after about two miles had melted behind them.
“Mustangs,” he replied without looking back.
Undeterred by the gruff reply, she kept going. “Bill said you were quite the businessman.” She marveled as they rode past a young Lakota riding bareback. It almost looked like he was guarding the place.
“We aren’t ignorant savages, you know,” he scoffed, a trace of irritated emotion creeping past the cold exterior.
She glared at the side of his face, but he didn’t see it. “Never even crossed my mind.”
The mustang—a spectacular young stallion named Tahalo—had all the classic symptoms of bowed tendons, but it wasn’t advanced. “Okay. No biggie,” Mary Beth soothed the jittery animal while she looked at the immaculate barn. “I’ll inject dextrose, an irritant solution, compounded with lidocaine. That will stimulate the healing process to kick back on.”
“A solution? Bill used to pin-fire them.”
“I think we’ve moved beyond hot metal spikes, don’t you?” she snipped. “If this doesn’t work, I can split the tendons, but that’s major surgery, and he’s not far gone. This should work, as long as you wrap him properly and slowly reintroduce him to exercise. It may be a year before he can do barrels again.” She couldn’t help herself. Trying not to smirk, she added, “You can still stud him. He won’t have any problems.”
Jacob actually blushed but was saved by another young man walking past the stall, his long hair gathered into a loose tail that flowed halfway down his back and a nose that looked like he’d stolen it directly from an eagle.
“Wačhínmayaya hwo?” he asked Jacob, his eyes barely flitting to Mary Beth.
It seemed like half of these Lakota guys never even looked at her. Mary Beth hadn’t decided if it was because she was a woman vet or if she was white, but either way, it was starting to get on her nerves. And every guy she’d seen around here looked like he was barely 18. Invisible and ancient, she grumbled silently. And dumb. It was really starting to grate when they all talked about her in Lakota, no matter how beautiful the language was.
“Hiyá, Dave, tanyán naúnžinpe ló,” Jacob replied, and with a tilt of his head, the young man was gone.
Mary Beth shot Jacob a sharp look, her hands on her hips.
“I hire the young ones for the horses,” he said simply in response. “Tommy started out here. That was Dave. One of the best. He helps run the local rodeo.”
“You train the new guys on the mustangs instead of the cows?” she asked incredulously.
“Horses are a part of the tribe.” He began to caress the stallion’s nose with long, even strokes. Mary Beth watched his careful hands running over the fur with a steady, even pressure as he continued, “Cattle aren’t. I only take on the ones who are capable of understanding the old ways.”
That snapped her attention away from his powerful hands. She bent over to ready the syringe and decided to ask what the old ways were, but as she stood, she saw that Jacob had Tahalo in a near trance.
“We need to tie him so I can do the injections,” she said quietly, afraid to break the daze Jacob had cast.
“No, we don’t,” he replied. “Just be calm.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded as he began to whisper in Lakota in the horse’s ear.
Hesitantly, Mary Beth knelt beside the animal. Horses didn’t like this because it hurt. She couldn’t blame them—who did like needles under tendons?—but not having the horse tied was an invitation to being squished by a one-ton animal in pain.
“Okay,” she muttered to herself, preparing to jump out of the way when the stallion reared. But as the needle sank deep, the horse didn’t move. His muscles barely even twitched as she completed the series of shots that normally sent horses into spasms of panic.
When she stood, Jacob’s eye was trained on her while he continued to stroke the animal’s face. His black-blue eye looked deep into hers as his fingers steadily rubbed the horse’s fur. Mary Beth froze, feeling as paralyzed by his gaze as the horse had been by his touch, and suddenly aware of her frilly green and pink panties.
“Are you done?” his voice was low and quiet, seeming to vibrate not from his mouth but directly out of his chest. She could barely nod as he held her captive with his power. “Then get out of the way.”
The order broke the spell he had her under. She gathered her bag and quickly moved out of the stall.
In an instant, Jacob was beside her. A second later, Tahalo sprang back to life, whinnying and shaking as the pain suddenly hit him.
“What just happened here?” Mary Beth asked. “Are you some sort of horse whisperer or something?”
Dave walked back through leading a colt. “Yuš’ínyeyaya hwo?” he demanded, his eyes laughing.
“Kitányela. Dave, Thahálo awányanka yo,” he said as he picked up Mary Beth’s packs and walked out to Jezebel.
“Okay, can I tell you how much it irritates the hell out of me when you do that?”
“Do what?” he asked, his eye laughing at her.
“When you and all your friends talk about me in Lakota. I’m going to start cussing in Vietnamese every time you do it.”
That pulled him up short. “You cuss in Vietnamese?”
Mary Beth stuck her chest out a bit. “Quite well too.”
He stared at her for a moment, but she didn’t flinch.
“Okay, I’ll bite.” He slung his leg over his horse. “Why does a white woman like you know how to cuss in Vietnamese?”
“It’s complicated,” she easily parried, mounting Jezebel.
Jacob looked out over the grassland they had to wind their way back through. “I’ve got about half an hour.”
“Oh, sure, I tell you and the whole town knows it.”
“I promise. I won’t talk.”
“Not to Tommy?”
“Not even to Tommy.” He sat back in the saddle, patiently waiting.
She knew he wouldn’t. If only because of the mystery that surrounded Kip, she knew he’d keep her secrets just because she asked him. Everything about Jacob Plenty Holes said he was a man of his word. “My cousin, Annie, is Vietnamese. My uncle married a Vietnamese woman during the war and then couldn’t get them out when Saigon fell. He couldn’t find them for a long time, then she showed up at our farm about twenty years ago, after her mom died.”
“Now that I wouldn’t have guessed,” he said, sounding sympathetic.
“She married a neighbor guy from up the road, and they’ve got three kids running around the farm, just like I used to do. She’s my best friend.”
Jacob turned to look her up and down again. “Not that complicated.”
“Try living it,” she snorted. “It was very complicated for a long time. Only took a few years for some people to stop referring to her as Cong.”
Jacob was silent, and Mary Beth realized that perhaps she’d overstepped her bounds. The rumors of his life indicated that, whatever the truth was, his life was far more complicated than hers had ever been.
“Okay,” she said lightly. “Your turn.”
“
My turn what?”
“Quid pro quo. I tell you something no one else in town knows, and you tell me something no one else knows.”
“This isn’t Silence of the Lambs, you know.”
“One thing. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, his face unreadable behind that mask. “You can ask one thing.”
“What happened to your face? You didn’t really get into a brawl, did you?”
“That was two,” he said, his voice short and clipped.
“Well?” she demanded.
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to answer me?”
Slowly, he pivoted his head as he stared at her, his eye hard and dangerous. Mary Beth shrank back from the barely buried rage that churned beneath his calm exterior. “I said you could ask. I didn’t say I’d answer,” he replied before he kicked Mick into a full gallop across the plains.
“Cho de,” she muttered as she raced to keep up with him.
Jacob could hear her cussing behind him. At least he assumed she was cussing. He didn’t recognize what she said, but her tone made it clear that, whatever she’d just called him, it wasn’t flattering.
Up in front of her, where she couldn’t see him, he let his face crack into a smile. Damned if he wasn’t almost having fun. Yeah, he should have tied Tahalo. It was risky bordering on stupid not to. And Jacob never took stupid risks. Calculated risks, yes. His whole life these days was a calculated risk. But stupid?
Why hadn’t he tied the horse?
Probably had something to do with the way the vet—the vet who did not sleep with clients—had looked up at him, her eyes wide with a sense of wonder. She’d been impressed. With him.
In the last three years, he’d scared a few people, intimidated more than a few and made a whole bunch of ladies swoon when he rode around without a shirt.
But this was different. She hadn’t been impressed with his muscles—not just then anyway. It wasn’t what he looked like. It was what he did.
What was more, she’d trusted him. She could have demanded he tie the horse up—threatened to castrate him if he didn’t. But she hadn’t. She’d taken him at his word. No second guessing, no suspicion. Just faith that he knew what he was doing.
He knew he should be worried about this—about her. But right now, he felt good. Today was a good day.
Or at least it was until he broke through the trees that surrounded the barn. When he saw the cop car parked next to a corral, anything good about the day disappeared. The law, such as it was around these parts, didn’t venture out to Buck’s personal fiefdom without a damn good reason.
Jacob scanned the rest of the property. It was late in the afternoon. The rest of the hired hands were already drinking their day’s wages at Ronny’s or headed home to their families. The show wouldn’t start for another hour, maybe. Buck’s mansion was dark. The land seemed quiet.
Except for the cop who got out of his cruiser when he saw Jacob and Mary Beth coming.
“Who’s that?” Mary Beth had spotted him now too. For once though, she didn’t sound full of the normal bravado. If anything, she sounded nervous.
For some unexplained reason, Jacob felt the pull to protect her. Which was ridiculous considering who was waiting for them.
By now, they were within earshot of the cruiser. “Afternoon, Jacob.”
Jacob waited until he and Mary Beth were on the ground before he did the introductions. “Sheriff, this is the new vet, Mary Beth Hofstetter. Doc, this is Sheriff Tim Means from the White Sandy rez.”
“Nice to meet you.” Whatever uncertainty Jacob had heard on horseback was gone, buried beneath her usual take-no-prisoners attitude. She gave Tim’s hand a hell of a firm shake.
“Likewise.” Tim shot Jacob an amused look over Mary Beth’s head—he had a good foot on her. But then he got serious. “We need to talk.”
Damn, but Jacob hated that statement. Tim had been out here several times over the years. It was never a social call. He’d arrested a few cowboys for a few violent crimes, questioned a few others. Tim was a good cop, something that earned him a fair amount of suspicion. Jacob knew the feeling, even if he didn’t entirely trust the man himself.
As always, every time Tim popped up, Jacob’s thoughts turned to Kip. Was she okay or had something happened to her? Had Tim caught wind of a new clue? Or—and this was the worst thought of all—had he come to tell Jacob that he was taking the girl away?
“In private,” Tim added, dismissing Mary Beth.
The effect was immediate. Mary Beth’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Jacob. What, did she think he was going to ask her to stay? Not happening.
“Well. Nice to meet you.” Her acid tone made it clear that she thought it was anything but. At least she hadn’t threatened to castrate him, right?
She shot Jacob a look that could melt metal before taking Jezebel’s reins and leading the horse into the barn.
“I can get her,” Jacob called after her.
“She needs to be rubbed down. You’re busy,” came the short reply, which was closely followed by that phrase again, “Cho de.”
It was an odd feeling, knowing he’d done something to offend her and not being sure what else he could have done. Hell, it was an odd-enough feeling knowing that he’d just offended her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cared if he’d pissed someone off or not.
Tim followed him into the small front room that served as his office. Wasn’t much—four feet wide by six feet long, a narrow desk shoved up against the window, a filing cabinet in one corner, hay and sawdust on the floor. Barely enough room to get the door closed behind Tim, but Jacob sat in his chair and slid over until his back hit the filing cabinet. Tim got the door shut with inches to spare. “Problem?”
“Problem,” Tim agreed. “When was the last time you were on the rez?”
“Can’t recall.” A look of disappointment flitted across Tim’s face, like he expected better of Jacob. Well, he could shove his better. Jacob was busy. “Months, maybe.”
A tense silence stretched between them. “You heard about what happened a few weeks ago?”
“Nope.”
“Mass food poisoning. Church picnic at St. Francis and everyone who had the beef got sicker than a dog.”
The St. Francis Catholic Church and School was on the south side of the rez, a ways away from Faith Ridge. “Anyone die?”
Tim shook his head no. “Got a new lady doctor out there, she figured out what it was and got it nipped in the bud.”
Something wasn’t right. Why would the law be here for a case of bad burger? “So?”
Tim didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he checked out his nails and looked out the window. As if he could make Jacob sweat. “Doesn’t Buck McGillis have the contract on providing beef to the church?”
Jacob switched on the computer and called up the file. “Yeah.” And then, as much as he hated to defend Buck, he added, “But that doesn’t prove anything.”
“This was on the scale that the Bureau of Indian Affairs is getting involved. They’ll have warrants, so be ready for them.”
Now it was Jacob’s turn to let the silence stretch. No love lost between Tim and Buck. Just because Robin Benge had never pressed charges against Buck didn’t mean that Tim didn’t know about it. Tim seemed to know about everything that happened on or near the rez, with the exception of the murder of Fred and Susan Two Elks.
The problem was no one ever pressed charges against Buck. Tim kept hoping he’d get his breakthough, just like Jacob did.
A break like supplying contaminated beef to a church? He checked his records again. “We sent two cows to the butcher. Everything’s in order on our end.”
Tim didn’t say anything. Jacob got the distinct feeling there was something else. “What?”
“What if the problem wasn’t on your end?”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone saw something. Said it was in a field near the White
Sandy, halfway between here and, well…” Tim paused, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “Well, honestly, I don’t know where.”
“This someone didn’t tell you where?”
“Only that he saw some people slaughtering some cattle in the middle of the night, in the middle of a field, in the middle of nowhere. And they were armed.”
Suddenly, Jacob had a good idea who the unnamed witness was. “Was this someone able to identify Buck?”
“No. Just that he’d caught them doing it twice. And that he lost a couple of horses—whatever happened in the fields appears to have contaminated the grass.”
Nobody Bodine—that had to be who Tim was talking about. And if Nobody was actually talking to Tim? Nobody was one step short of a menace to society. True, a menace who was good with horses, but that didn’t change the fact that Nobody was a convicted killer. Tim had been the one to arrest him for that fatal brawl in the bar. If those two were actually working together on something… “How bad was it?”
Tim paused, looking tired. “It hit the kids real hard. We almost lost a few of the little ones.”
Again, Kip—so small, so vulnerable—appeared in his mind’s eye. “When will the BIA be here?”
“They’re still getting their house in order, warrants, just cause—test results.”
“What do you need from me?”
“You know this range better than anybody. Any missing cattle, any sick cattle—any suddenly dead cattle—I need to know.”
Tim first, BIA second. Jacob understood. Justice was a hard thing out here. That much hadn’t changed since the old days of the Wild West. Buck might be able to weasel his way through the legal system—he could buy all the lawyers in the world. But if Tim could deal with things before it got to that point, well, it’d be a victory on its own.
Just outside the window, a movement caught Jacob’s eye. It was Mary Beth, hauling her huge medical saddlebags out to her truck and stopping to rub Mick’s neck. “Hang on,” he said, managing to push past Tim and get the door open.
Masked Cowboy (Men of the White Sandy) Page 5