Boji Stones

by Sandra Cox

  A scream of pain erupted from the barn. The cup fell from his hands, sloshing hot coffee down his pants leg.

  * * * * *

  He hit the wheel with a shaky fist as he drove past the well lit rest stop where people were milling about getting in and out of their cars. So the redneck ranch hand thought he could outsmart him did he? He stomped on the gas and the big sedan jumped forward. It had been a long shot anyway. He believed in availing himself of any unexpected opportunities the gods threw in his path.

  Chapter Three

  Maureen floated in the wake of receding pain as Hank lifted her in his arms. She winced as a strand of her hair caught on his wristwatch.

  The barn door creaked and running feet thudded down the corridor. Hank’s arms tightened around her. His heat brought comfort. She relaxed and let the boji stones begin to heal her, taking away her pain and the pain of the horse that had coursed into her body then transferred into the stones.

  “Is she all right?” Jack Wolfe sounded worried.

  “You were told to stay put,” Hank growled.

  She could feel tension running through her foreman’s arms.

  “I heard her scream.”

  “Since you’re here, make yourself useful and open the stall door.”

  Jack complied and the wooden door groaned open.

  Pegasus struggled to his feet and blew into Maureen’s hair. She smiled. The horse would be all right.

  Hank nudged the mare aside and strode out of the stall. “See to your horse.”

  “Is she going to be all right?” Ignoring Hank’s command, Jack shut the stall door.

  As if deliberately misunderstanding, Hank said, “The horse will recover.”

  “Pegasus is a stallion. I meant Miss Sinclair.”

  With Maureen in his arms, Hank whirled around. “You didn’t give a damn what happened to her last night, don’t start worrying about her now.” He turned on his heels and strode toward the door.

  Rapid footsteps sounded behind them.

  “Look, I deserved that. All I could think about was my horse. I would have dealt with the devil himself to save him. It was wrong but I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again. But I’m in her debt and will do whatever it takes to make it right.”

  I wonder if a woman could ever inspire that kind of passion.

  Hank grunted.

  “I bet she has Celtic green eyes to match that long auburn hair draped over your arm,” Jack said as he walked beside Hank.

  “What she has is a temper to go with the hair,” Hank responded.

  The amethyst calms me, she wanted to protest but was too tired to open her gritty eyes let alone talk.

  “Hm,” Jack responded, his tone even, noncommittal.

  In silence, the two men walked out the barn and across the yard to the house. Boot heels clicked on the veranda and the screen door squeaked as it opened.

  Hank hugged her closer to his chest. “Why are you still here?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “You’re like a barnacle,” Hank grumbled.

  Jack chuckled, a rich, warm sound. “I like to think of it as being tenacious. You planning on carrying her up those stairs?”

  “It’s where her bedroom’s at.”

  “Here, let me. You’ve got twenty years on me. Not that you’re not in excellent shape,” Jack hastened to add.

  “You aren’t touching her.”

  “You think I’d try to rape her right in front of you?” Jack said, his voice filled with amusement.

  Hank’s arms tightened then relaxed.

  Maureen felt herself transferred from one pair of hard arms to another. Her eyes fluttered open briefly as she felt him start. He felt the boji stones. She closed her eyes. I’m so damn tired.

  “Green,” Jack said under his breath.

  Her lips curved in a fleeting smile as she nestled against his warm hard chest and heart that pounded erratically. She had the strangest feeling of homecoming.

  She was already sinking into thick velvet layers of oblivion when those strong arms laid her gently on the bed. The clean scent of laundry soap filled her nostrils as her head hit the pillow and she snuggled into her sheets as someone tucked her in. Jack Wolfe? Hank?

  Jack whispered in her ear, “Thank you.”

  Then at last she was alone to sink into a deep healing sleep. She jerked once as the fanatical face of the man who ran her off the road leered at her in her dreams. She rubbed her right foot against the amulet, still on her left leg and fell back into a sleep free of dreams and nightmares.

  * * * * *

  Maureen woke feeling great. She stretched, finger-combed her hair and headed for the bathroom. After she’d showered, she threw on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top, slipped into scuffed tennies and moved her amulet from her leg to her arm. Better. And ran down the stairs.

  She stopped at the foot of the stairs, put her nose in the air and sniffed, much like Captain the old barn cat. Bacon, eggs and above all coffee. Being a vegetarian, she didn’t eat bacon but periodically enjoyed its aroma.

  Almost running, she burst into the bright yellow cheery kitchen. She loved the eclectic blend of modern appliances and old-fashioned white cabinets and the way the yellow and white checkered curtains fluttered at the open window when a warm breeze blew. “Bless you, Hank,” she said then skidded to a halt, her tennies squeaking on the wood floor. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Jack Wolfe stood over the stove pulling crisp strips of bacon from the skillet. He turned. His eyes widened and a smile lit his bronzed, tight-skinned features. He shook his head as he stared at her. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.” His warm gaze traveled over her as if disbelieving what he saw. “You look great, rested and healthy.” His glance dropped to her arm and his brow wrinkled. “Your right arm was a mass of bruises.” His gaze trailed up her shoulder to her face. He tipped his head studying her and said, “And you had circles under your eyes the size of small plates.”

  She felt her features freeze while currents of tension stirred beneath the amulet. He was too damn interested, too curious. “I’m a fast healer.”

  “I can see that.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like a bug under a microscope. You’re just so fascinating. Let’s start over shall we?”

  His smile almost threw her heart into overdrive. As it was, she could feel it notch up a beat or two.

  “Good morning. How do you feel?”

  Okay two can play this game. “Like I could eat a rasher of bacon—if I wasn’t a vegetarian—a dozen eggs and a gallon of coffee. You never answered my question. What are you doing here?”

  He ignored the question. “As trim as that body is, there’s no place for quite that much food. Sit down and I’ll feed you. Are you a vegan or will you eat the eggs?”

  “I’ll eat the eggs. I have no problems with chickens earning their keep.”

  He finished the bacon and moved to the counter to pour a cup of coffee then strolled over and handed it to her.

  She watched his easy fluid movements. “You seem very much at home in my kitchen.”

  “Since I’ve been fixing breakfast for the past couple of days, I’ve learned my way around.”

  Maureen’s jaw dropped. She snapped it shut with a click of her teeth. “What do you mean a couple of days?”

  “You’ve slept round the clock and then some.”

  She plopped down and stuck her elbows on the old butcher block table, her hands wrapped around the hot mug, her hair falling forward on her face. She closed her eyes and inhaled the fragrance of fresh brewed coffee. Nirvana. She sipped. Yup, nirvana.

  She looked at her new cook.

  “It’s Thursday morning.”

  “I’ve been sleeping since Tuesday?” Her eyes widened.

  “Yes and I must say you look one hundred percent better. It’s almost miraculous.”

  She eyed him uneasily, the dissipating tension starti
ng to roll under the amulet again. The man was like a dog with a bone.

  He turned back to the counter and popped wheat bread into the toaster.

  She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

  Before he could say anything, Hank came tromping in. He went to the sink and washed his hands. “Marnie, you’re awake. You look great, honey.”

  “What’s he doing here?” She jerked a thumb in Jack’s direction.

  Hank grabbed a cup of coffee, pulled out a chair and sat down next to her. “Paying his debt.”

  “So we don’t take cash anymore?”

  Hank took a large swallow of the steaming dark liquid and sighed with a look of pure pleasure on his face.

  “He’s already written out a pretty sizeable check. Since we saved the love of his life, he figures he owes us more than just a monetary return.”

  “I can speak for myself,” Jack said in a mild voice and put two plates down in front of them.

  Hank rubbed his hands. “This looks great.”

  “And what do you think?” she asked, scooping up fluffy scrambled eggs.

  “That he cooks a helluva lot better than you do.”

  “I don’t cook.” She glared at her old friend.

  “My point exactly.”

  A plate in one hand, coffee in the other, Jack sat down across from Hank.

  Maureen ignored him. “You think this is a good time to be bringing someone on board?”

  Hank lifted his mug his expression sober. “I think it’s the best.”

  A look passed between them. He’d said it all his life. Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer. She nodded her understanding, though not sure she agreed with it.

  She planted her elbows on the table, wrapped her hands around the mug and took a sip of coffee and tried again. “Don’t you have a family and job you need to get back to, Mr. Wolfe?”

  “I’m not married.”

  “Oh.” To her intense disgust she felt herself blush.

  She lifted her chin and raised her eyebrows. “And your job?”

  To her surprise, he laughed, a rich warm sound that invited you to join in and share his enjoyment of life.

  “I’m an itinerant, Ms. Sinclair.”

  She blinked. “Oh.”

  “So what does an itinerant do?” Hank asked around a mouthful of bacon.

  Jack grinned. “I can’t answer for all the itinerants of the world but I write and teach an occasional college course.”

  Maureen looked at him over her coffee mug.“And what do you write?”

  “Myths and legends.”

  Hank choked. Jack reached over and slapped him on the back.

  She snapped her fingers. Wolfe. “Dr. Jack Wolfe, author of Indigo Feather. You specialize in Native American folklore and legends.” Maureen’s stomach muscles contracted. Shit. If he specialized in legends, he had to know about the amulet. And if by some minor miracle he didn’t he would be finding out damn quick.

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Don’t be.” Her eyes narrowed and her forehead wrinkled in concentration.

  Jack gave her a lopsided smile. “Thinking not-so-nice thoughts are you?”

  She ignored that. “I should have recognized you from your picture on your book jacket. “ She tilted her head, studying him. “Your hair was shorter.”

  He grinned. “You don’t have to be polite. That picture is three years old.”

  She looked over at Hank, whose face resembled a storm cloud about to burst then back at Jack. “So what are you doing here, Dr. Wolfe?”

  “Jack, please.”

  She tapped her fingers on the table, waiting.

  “Pegasus. I came because of Pegasus.”

  Sidetracked, she asked, “How is he doing?”

  “Great.”

  She stared bemused. The man’s whole face lit up.

  “In fact when I’m done mucking stalls I’d like to give him a little exercise, care to come with me?”

  “Let’s table that for now. How did you hear about me?”

  “Since we haven’t had much opportunity to chat, I’d be interested in knowing the answer to that myself.” Hank wiped his mouth and threw his napkin on the table.

  Jack moved his coffee cup around in a circle, watching the golden brown liquid swirl. “When I was researching myths surrounding stones I came across an obscure but intriguing legend concerning five amulets each one containing sacred stones. One amulet for power, one for knowledge, one for wealth, one for creativity and beauty,” he looked directly at Maureen, “and one for healing.” His gaze slid to her left arm. “It’s an ancient Celtic copper amulet with an amethyst at its center and a boji stone on each side, one male stone, one female stone. It is said that like copper, boji stones are natural healers. If the myth is to be believed they have been in existence for many centuries, long before they were discovered in Kansas in 1974. The person who wears the amulet works as a conduit. Pain and sickness are transferred from the patient to the healer with a laying on of hands. From there it travels into the amulet itself.” He splayed his feet and leaned his chair back on two legs.

  “Anyway, when Pegasus was diagnosed with inoperable cancer I remembered the legend and started sending out feelers. I’m a big believer in no matter how farfetched a myth or legend somewhere in it is a grain of truth. I got a lot of wacky responses but I was desperate.” He grinned ruefully. “A fellow instructor at WCU where I work when I’m not out chasing legends got an email from someone, who knew someone, who knew someone else, who knew you. You weren’t connected with the legend but you were getting a reputation as a healer and someone mentioned a bracelet you wore on your forearm. Kind of a trademark. I did my homework and hoped for the best. That even if you had nothing to do with the legend that you could still heal him.”

  He gave her a smile that lit his face from the inside out and made her feel like the most important person in the universe. “And you did. At great risk to yourself, I might add for which I’m eternally thankful. And the rest as they say is history.”

  Maureen felt queasy. She curled her lip. “How terribly sweet. And the idea of another book out of this never crossed your mind. A bestseller maybe? Movie rights? With your writing skills and your reputation you could be a rich man.”

  His chair came down with a thump and he leaned forward, his expression intent. “It’s true then?”

  “It’s a pretty story, nothing more.”

  Hank pushed his chair back and stood. “Mister, I think you better leave. Looks like we don’t need help after all.”

  Jack rose too. “Listen, the legend fascinates me, I won’t deny it but I’d never print a word without your approval. I meant what I said. I owe you for Pegasus. I’m here as a hired hand not a writer.”

  Hank looked suspicious. “You’re not wired for sound are you?”

  Jack laughed and threw up his hands. “Care to frisk me? Either of you?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Maureen.

  Dammit why did that laugh have to be so infectious?

  Hank looked at her, his eyes worried. “What do you think, Marnie?”

  She looked straight at Jack. “I think you’d better leave.”

  He shoved his hands in his back pockets. “Miss Sinclair, if I walk out that door my conscience will jab at me from here to eternity. I owe you more than you’ll ever know. And I believe in paying my debts. Money is not enough for what you did. It’s pretty obvious you need help out here. You’ve got, what, sixteen horses?”

  He grimaced. “If nothing else you need someone to fill in those chug holes.” His expression grew troubled. “Hank said someone ran you off the road. A hit and run. I trust it was nothing but a drunk driver but if there’s more to it than that, I know how to handle myself in a fight. I’ll leave if you want me to but I’d very much appreciate you giving me the opportunity to help you.”

  She studied him, assessingly.

  He returned her look, his own candid
and calm.

  She could see nothing but concern in his eyes. And the trump card was that he knew about the legend. At least this way they could keep an eye on him. She drew in a deep breath and hoped she wasn’t making the mistake of a lifetime. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. “You can stay but you print one word about me or connect me to your supposed legend and I’ll sue your ass off. When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to get an interview from a turnip. Count on it.”

  “Fair enough.” He stuck out his hand.

  She hesitated for a heartbeat then clasped it. Long slender fingers wrapped around her palm. Jack blinked as he felt the bojis jolt…at least she assumed that was it.

  He looked at her for a long moment. Whatever his thoughts he kept them to himself. Breaking eye contact he turned to Hank and offered his hand. Hank stared at him hard. “You do anything to hurt her and I’ll cut out your heart. Put that in your book.”

  The corners of Jack’s mouth leveled into a straight line but he didn’t withdraw his hand. Hank looked at him a moment then shook it.

  Jack smiled, relieved. “Are we still on for that ride?”

  She shrugged. “Why not.” Starting to walk out the door she stopped and turned around, her hand resting on the door jamb. “Why is that horse so important to you?”

  The planes and ridges in his face tightened and the light in his eyes went out. After a long pause, he said, “He belonged to my daughter. My daughter loved that horse.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “She died over a year ago.”

  * * * * *

  Hands prone to violent tremors held a high-powered telescope pointed toward the ranch. It wouldn’t be easy but even if it meant killing the woman, he had to get that amulet. He had no choice. The disease was crippling him.

  Chapter Four

  Way to go, Marnie, you chump.

  Maureen continued to berate herself as she backed Destrie a dappled gray stallion out of the teasing stall. Destrie was snorting and prancing as the mare in the adjoining stall laid back her ears and bared her teeth. Leading him away she walked down the center aisle covered with rubber mats and deep layers of bedding.