Native Cowboy

by Rita Herron

  Then he took off through the crowd. Suddenly the figure pivoted and looked straight at him.

  Mason’s heart raced as he looked into the vacant eyes of Morningside.

  For God’s sake. He had been there. Had set that bomb and was walking away as if nothing had happened.

  Mason pulled his gun, maneuvered through the group of churchgoers, increasing his pace as Morningside veered into the alley.

  Mason broke into a jog, then turned down the alley, but the man had disappeared. Adrenaline kicked in. He couldn’t have gotten too far.

  He glanced left then right, then thought he detected movement down the street. More run-down buildings stood like festering sores in the deserted alley, another reminder that Cara’s clinic wasn’t in the best part of town. But he bypassed them, then thought he spotted Morningside ahead.

  Running now, he crossed the intersection, racing down the street. The man disappeared around the corner, then Mason chased him through a low-income housing project. Clothes flapped on a clothesline, and he shoved sheets aside as he sprinted through the yard. A dog barked nearby, another one running into the alley.

  “Whoa, guys,” he said, holding up his hand to calm them.

  The larger one, a Doberman, bared his teeth and growled and the other, a shepherd mix, lunged at him. “Hey, guys, I’m not going to hurt you,” Mason murmured.

  A chuffy guy with baggy clothes and eyes that looked glassy from drugs stepped into the yard.

  “I’m a detective,” Mason said. “Call off your dogs.”

  “Huh?”

  Frustration made Mason curse. “Call them off or I’ll raid your place and throw you in jail.”

  The guy threw up his hand in submission, then whistled, and the dogs trotted to him and plopped down at his feet.

  Mason took off running, but by the time he made it past the housing development, Morningside had disappeared.

  He leaned over with his hands on his knees and heaved a breath. Dammit to hell.

  The man had escaped.

  And after Cara’s challenge, he would come after her. The only question was when and where he would strike?

  * * *

  CARA MADE SURE her patients were calm enough to drive home, then warned them that the attack was personal against her, to be on guard until the Navel Fetish killer was caught.

  “Call me if you start having contractions or any problems,” she said. Both women had two months before they were due, so hopefully their pregnancies hadn’t been jeopardized by the day’s trauma.

  Mason looked stark and fierce against the fading sunset as he appeared from the alley and headed toward her. His face was set in stone, sweat beading on his brow. He’d obviously been chasing Morningside, but his bleak expression indicated that he’d lost him.

  He was still furious at her, as well.

  But she didn’t intend to back down. She wanted this craziness to end so she and her patients could be safe again.

  Cara turned to Sherese. “Thanks for all your help, now go home, sweetie.”

  Sherese shook her head. “I have to get those files so I can finish making those phone calls tonight.”

  Sherese had already done so much that Cara was tempted to relieve her of the task, but in light of the bombing, the women had to be warned.

  “I’ll email you the list from my home computer,” Cara said. “It’ll be a while before it’s safe to go back inside.”

  “What about our patients?” Sherese asked.

  “For now, cancel your appointments,” Mason cut in as he came to an abrupt stop in front of her.

  “Mason, I can’t do that. This is a medical clinic. Babies won’t stop being born just because there’s trouble.”

  “Then refer the ones who need immediate care to the hospital,” he said emphatically. “You’re not coming back here until this maniac is caught.”

  Cara reluctantly agreed. One of the firefighters walked toward them and introduced himself as Ben Filmore.

  “We found evidence of arson,” Filmore said. “There were pieces of steel piping and traces of black powder at the point of origin.”

  “I found both substances at the cabin where we tracked Morningside,” Mason said. “Special Agent Whitehead stayed back to wait on a crime unit to process the scene and gather the evidence.”

  Cara folded her arms across her middle. That evidence definitely pointed to Morningside as the bomber. She had only met the man once and tried to remember what he looked like. He was part Comanche like Mason, but his features weren’t as prominent. When she’d seen him, he had scraggly brown hair and a beard and a dozen scars on his arms and face. That had been shortly after he returned from Afghanistan where he’d been a prisoner of war for three months. No telling what brutalities he’d suffered.

  Enough to make him bomb her clinic where innocent women and children could have been killed? If only he’d gotten psychiatric help like Isabella had begged him to do.

  “When can we get back inside?” Cara asked him.

  “Not for a while, ma’am. Even the parts of the clinic that weren’t destroyed by the fire have smoke and water damage.”

  Disappointment and frustration filled Cara. All she wanted to do was help people but this man was endangering them.

  “I’ll ask the sheriff to post a couple of men here round the clock,” Filmore said. “We’ll confiscate all your drugs and equipment that can be salvaged and put it all into storage.”

  “Thanks. We can’t have looters trying to steal the equipment or medication.” Although worry nagged at her. How would she rebuild? Even with insurance, it would take time and would be costly to replace laboratory equipment and supplies. They’d had so many donations to get them started, done fund-raising...

  They would have to do it all over again. But she wouldn’t let this man win and shut her down.

  Sherese hugged her goodbye and hurried to her car, and Cara sighed with fatigue.

  “Come on, Cara,” Mason said. “I’m driving you home. You look beat.”

  A weariness settled over Cara. “I hate to leave the clinic like this.”

  “The sheriff will make sure it’s secure,” he said. “You need to rest. Isn’t that what you’d tell your patients in this situation?”

  Cara glared at him, but she could hardly argue with that. “Fine.”

  Although how could she rest knowing Morningside was still out there? That he might come after her tonight?

  That he might be stalking another victim to make her pay for challenging him in front of the press?

  * * *

  MASON STOPPED BY the dining hall on the BBL to pick up dinner plates for them. Ms. Ellen packed pieces of her special coconut cream pie for dessert while Cara spoke to Jordan and Kim to make sure the boys who’d been with Mason when he’d discovered Nellie Thompson’s body weren’t traumatized.

  “Doc Winchester okay?” Ms. Ellen asked. “I saw her on the TV and she looked exhausted.”

  “That’s why I wanted dinner for her. Then I’m going to make sure she rests tonight.”

  “You call me if she go into labor,” Ms. Ellen said. “I ain’t no doctor but I delivered a young’un or two myself.”

  Mason smiled at the kind woman. Johnny Long had brought her to the BBL and everyone adored her. She was also the best cook he’d ever met.

  He patted her shoulder. “Thanks, that’s a relief. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to deliver the baby myself.”

  Ms. Ellen laughed and Brody approached. “I saw the news about the fire in town. Thank God no one was hurt.”

  “Yeah, it could have been worse,” Mason said. Except Cara’s quick courage and dedication had saved everyone inside. She was always taking care of everyone else.

  But who took care of her?

  He would tonight.

  “That was a pretty bold move challenging Morningside,” Brody said.

  “Don’t remind me,” Mason growled.

  “My security team will be on guard tonight,” Brod
y said. “I’ll also have one nearby Cara’s place.”

  “I’m staying there until this guy is caught,” Mason assured him. “He’ll have to kill me to get to her and that baby.”

  Brody gave him an understanding look, and Mason thanked him then walked over to Cara. “You ready?”

  She rubbed at her lower back. “Yes.”

  A silence fell between them as they drove to her cabin. When they arrived, Mason insisted she stay in the car until he searched the rooms. But it was clear, so she came in and he set their plates at the table.

  “Eat,” he said, his temper still fuming at the fact that she’d practically invited Morningside to come after her.

  His cell phone buzzed, and he checked the number. “It’s Agent Whitehead. I’d better get it.”

  Cara nodded, then sat down to eat.

  He stepped onto the porch and scanned the property as he connected the call. “Blackpaw.”

  “It’s Agent Whitehead,” she said. “The crime unit collected everything at the cabin and are processing it now. How are things there?”

  “We’re back at Cara’s.” He explained the fire chief’s findings.

  “So Morningside built the bomb at the cabin,” Agent Whitehead said. “Then he tossed it in the clinic and ran.”

  “He was in the crowd watching the pandemonium,” Mason said through gritted teeth.

  “That fits the profile,” she said. “But there’s something that’s bothering me about all this.”

  Mason tensed. “What?”

  “It’s about Cara’s comment. She challenged him to come after her, the source of his rage. It’s true that Morningside blames her for his wife’s decision to leave him, but ultimately he’s furious at his wife.”

  The hair on the back of Mason’s neck bristled. “So you think he may go after his wife?”

  “It’s possible,” Agent Whitehead said. “We know he’s unstable. We have to cover all bases.”

  “You’re right,” Mason said. “But I’m not leaving Cara.”

  “I understand,” Agent Whitehead said. “I’m on my way to the ex-wife’s. I’ll stay with her tonight in case he shows there.”

  “Good, you can relieve Liam Runninghorse so he can help search the res.” Mason disconnected, then went back inside to check on Cara. She had eaten half of her dinner, but her eyelids looked heavy.

  She looked so sweet and vulnerable that he didn’t have the heart to fuss at her. “Go get some rest, Cara.” He took her arm and helped her up. She gave him a grateful smile, but fatigue lined her face as she walked into the bedroom.

  The memory of her lying naked in his arms the night before returned to taunt him. Desire bolted through him. He wanted to strip his clothes, crawl into bed with her and hold her again until she fell asleep against him.

  But he couldn’t allow himself that luxury. Tonight he wasn’t Cara’s lover or the baby’s father.

  He was a cop tracking down a sadistic killer.

  And that meant staying alert so he could protect Cara and his son.

  * * *

  ONE LAST NAME ON his list before he went after the good doctor.

  He slid his fingers over the knife at his waist, then studied the tiny house where she lived. He’d been watching her for days now, knew her routine.

  She never saw her little boy because she slept during the day so she could work all night. She let her parents raise the baby so she could come and go as she wanted.

  He picked the lock on the back door, slipped into her house, tiptoed through the living room and made his way to her bedroom. Careful not to touch anything, he stretched out on her plush white comforter to wait for her.

  She had his people’s blood in her child’s veins.

  Yet she had defied their upbringing.

  And now she had to pay for her mistake.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cara didn’t think she could sleep, but she faded the moment her head hit the pillow. Hours later, she stirred to a dim streak of light poking through the storm clouds outside. She rolled over, disappointed that Mason hadn’t joined her.

  The memory of him in her bed made her ache for him.

  She pushed herself up, slipped on her robe, and walked to the den. But Mason wasn’t in the room. She glanced through the window and saw him on her porch drinking coffee, his body tense, his jaw set.

  She opened the door and stepped outside. “Have you been out here all night?”

  He shook his head. “Just stepped out to have some coffee.”

  “You didn’t sleep?” Cara asked.

  “Don’t worry about me, Cara. I’ll sleep when Morningside is caught.”

  Cara’s phone jangled, and she rushed to answer it in case it was an emergency. But it was Kim. “Cara, a bunch of boys are complaining of a rash. We think it’s poison ivy. Would you mind taking a look?”

  “Let me throw on some clothes and I’ll be right over.”

  Mason had followed her inside. “What was that about?”

  “Nothing serious, just a group of the campers with poison ivy. I told Kim I’d meet her at the main house clinic.”

  Mason nodded, then went back outside to stand watch. She made a cup of tea, then dressed while she drank it, and ate a piece of toast.

  Mason followed her to the BBL main house and waited outside while she examined the boys.

  Five campers were hunched on the cots with red blotches on their faces and arms, their eyes puffy as they twitched and clawed at the patches of irritated skin.

  “You poor guys,” she said softly. “We’re going to make you feel better soon.”

  Mason knocked on the door and poked his head inside. “Cara?”

  The gruff tone of his voice indicated something was wrong.

  “Excuse me, boys, I’ll be right back.”

  She patted the youngest boy’s shoulder then waddled to the door. “What’s wrong?”

  “Liam Runninghorse just called. There’s trouble at the reservation.”

  Panic caught in Cara’s throat. “Isabella?”

  “Morningside got the drop on the agent and has Isabella. I have to go.”

  “Wait a minute, and I’ll go with you.”

  “Hell, no,” Mason said. “You’re staying here where you’ll be safe. I’ll call you when we have him in custody.”

  Fear clawed at Cara, and she clutched Mason’s arm. She wanted to beg him not to go, but she knew that would be futile. No one was safe until Morningside was in jail. And she couldn’t stand it if he killed Isabella.

  “Mason, please be careful.” She pulled his hand to her stomach. “Your son needs you.”

  His gaze latched with hers, emotions darkening the hues. But a smile twitched at his mouth, then he kissed her and raced out the door.

  * * *

  MASON FLEW ONTO the reservation, adrenaline pumping through him as he parked near Isabella Morningside’s hogan. Apparently the agent’s instincts had been right. The man had come after his wife.

  By the time he arrived, Runninghorse and Chief Pann were outside stationed behind their vehicles along with Carter Flagstone and Sadie Whitefeather.

  Sadie was tending to Agent Whitehead who was propped against a tree a few feet away. He crossed the grass to her and noted blood on the back of her head. Sadie was cleaning it with gauze.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Agent Whitehead scowled. She was obviously beating herself up over what happened. “I heard a noise and stepped outside to check it out. Bastard hit me from behind with a two by four. I blacked out.”

  “You’re sure he has Isabella in there?”

  She nodded in disgust. “I woke up in the dirt, tied to a post. I heard Isabella crying.”

  Mason frowned. At least the man hadn’t killed the agent.

  Why exactly had he spared her?

  Carter hovered by Sadie, on guard himself, as Liam joined them.

  “So far, we’ve managed to keep this quiet,” Liam said. “But if word leaks, we’ll have
rubberneckers flocking.”

  “If you see anyone, make them stay back,” Mason said. “The last thing we want is to have the press out here or another innocent hurt while we try to arrest Morningside.”

  “So how do you suggest we handle this?” Chief Pann asked.

  Liam propped one hand across the tree as he studied the house. “Should we call in a hostage negotiator?”

  “There’s no time,” Mason said. “He’s part Indian, so am I. Get me a bullhorn and I’ll talk to him.”

  Agent Whitehead pushed Sadie’s hands away and wrangled to her feet while Chief Pann rushed to his SUV.

  “Remember the profile, detective. He was in the army, has PTSD,” Agent Whitehead said. “He’s probably suffering from nightmares, lack of sleep, depression. A sense of hopelessness.” She pulled her gun from inside her jacket. “He may be having flashbacks, even delusions, and be disoriented.”

  “You mean he may not realize what he’s doing or where he is?”

  She shrugged. “In severe cases, the person believes he’s still in the middle of combat, and sees everyone else as the enemy. That may have been the reason he bombed the Winchester Clinic.”

  Mason wanted to have sympathy for the guy, but he had hurt too many people for him to do so. Morningside had to be stopped.

  Chief Pann returned with a bullhorn and ear mics for each of them so they could communicate. Mason settled his mic in his ear, gripped the bullhorn with one hand, then gestured toward the agent and Liam. “Go around the house and look in the windows. See if you can find out what room they’re in. But nobody takes a shot without clearing it with me.” He turned to Carter. “Make sure Sadie stays back and watch out in case any other civilians show up.”

  They all gave nods of agreement, and Carter ushered Sadie behind the chief’s SUV while he inched toward the house.

  “Morningside, it’s Detective Mason Blackpaw. We need to talk.”

  “Get out of here!” Morningside shouted. “This is my land, my house.”

  “That may be true,” Mason said, using a calm voice. “And I understand that you’re having a hard time, Lapu. That the army did something to you and you need help.”

  “What do you know?” Morningside bellowed. “You weren’t there.”