Boji Stones

by Sandra Cox

  Jack slid into the saddle, holding the reins loose in one hand, the other resting on his thigh. “I’m waiting to hear about that one myself.”

  Hank patted her for broken bones.

  She winced as his hand touched her shoulder.

  He looked at her bloody shirt and his face grew grim. He turned toward Jack and Maureen read murder in his eyes. She placed a restraining hand on his arm that had a tendency to tremble. “It was the same man who ran me off the road.”

  “What?” two male voices asked simultaneously, one gruff, one bewildered but both filled with rage.

  Jack straightened in his saddle. “Someone sure as hell better tell me what’s going on.”

  Ignoring him, Hank turned to Maureen. “Can you ride, honey?”

  “Of course,” she replied. But knew the blood rushing in and out of her face gave her away.

  Hank looked at her then shook his head. “Sure you can.” He lifted her into the saddle then mounted his roan. She leaned back against his hard warm chest, feeling the fast erratic thump of his heart. Holding her against him with one strong arm, he put a hand on the saddle pommel and twisted around. “What direction did he go, Marnie?”

  “Into the woods, toward the stream.”

  “Damn,” he said softly under his breath. The roan moved forward as he clucked and touched his heels to the gelding’s flank. Jack rode beside them leading Wings, turning constantly to look around him alert for danger.

  As the sun beat down and the grass swished in the soft warm breeze, Maureen swayed with the rhythm of the horse, her eyelids heavy. If Jack was after the amulet, he certainly wasn’t going to do anything about it with Hank here. At least, she hoped not.

  The object of her not-so-complimentary thoughts bit out, “What the hell’s going on?”

  “The night you arrived, Marnie just got out of the hospital. Someone ran her off the road,” Hank said his voice terse.

  Pegasus snorted and sidled as if his rider had jerked the reins. “I knew someone ran her off the road and that she’d been taken to the hospital.”

  Unclenching his fist, Jack loosened his grip on the reins. “I thought it was a drunk driver. I didn’t know that someone was after the amulet.” He threw down the statement, a shot in the dark.

  Neither Hank nor Maureen confirmed or denied what he had said.

  Jack twisted in the saddle toward Maureen. “And how do I fit into the equation?”

  Maureen shrugged, too tired to try to make sense out of it.

  Hank responded for both of them. “Your timing. You showed up the night she was run off the road and were with her when she was attacked today.”

  “I wasn’t with her.”

  “What?” Hank’s head whipped around, his voice sharp-edged.

  “Makes me look even more guilty doesn’t it? Like I hung back just long enough for someone else to steal the amulet. Am I supposed to be the inside man then?”

  The silence stretched as Hank studied him. “I’m a pretty good judge of character. My gut tells me you’re all right.“ Then added, “But like I said before my gut’s not at issue, Marnie’s safety is so I’ll be watching you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Maureen decided to add her two cents. “You could always leave you know.”

  Jack heaved a frustrated sigh. “Even if you two aren’t willing to admit it, you need help and I have a debt to pay. If you don’t trust me fine but I’m not going anywhere ’til this little matter is cleared up.”

  Hank looked at Maureen, his mouth tight.

  She nodded. Keep your friends close. Keep your enemies closer.

  God she was tired. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and let her mind drift into a thick blanket of oblivion.

  Hank watched her for a moment then turned toward Jack. “Ever done any hunting?”

  “Years ago when I was a kid. But if you are asking do I know how to shoot, I can handle a gun.”

  “Good, when we get back and get Marnie settled in, I’m taking you with me on a polecat hunt.”

  His face blank, Jack replied, “You’d rather leave Maureen alone than leave her alone with me.”

  “That pretty much sums it up, North Carolina. Besides, she’ll have Wolf and we’ll lock the house up right and tight.”

  Jack’s hand resting on his thigh balled into a fist. “I’m not sure I agree with your logic. The dog’s been injured, how much good would he be? “

  Hank studied the professor over Marnie’s head. “He’ll stop anyone trying to get to Marnie even if it kills him.” His eyes narrow, he taunted softly, “Afraid we’ll catch whoever did this?”

  “Quite the countrary.” Pure steel threaded Jack’s voice and his eyes were cold as agates. “Though it surprises me, you’d trust me with a gun in my hands.”

  “You’ll be in front of me all the way, North Carolina.”

  * * * * *

  He trembled with impotent rage and with the disease. Twice now the amulet had been within his grasp and both times it had eluded him. He could feel the skin on his face tighten and had no doubt that the fury in his head shone out of his eyes. He clenched his shaking hands. He could not, would not fail again.

  Chapter Five

  The men returned disgruntled and soaked to the skin. No sooner had they dropped Maureen off, picked up the guns and headed back out when a late summer storm blew up. They persevered but any tracks that the attacker might have made were washed away. After several hours of fruitless searching, they turned the horses toward home.

  In dry clothes, their hair still damp, they sat with Maureen at the kitchen table having a powwow over cups of steaming black coffee.

  Maureen sat with her legs stretched out under the table, Wolf’s large warm head resting on her bare feet. She studied Jack over her white mug, the damp vapors tickling her nose and the fragrant aroma teasing her senses. His thick black hair pulled back in a ponytail accentuated his high narrow cheekbones and chocolate brown eyes that held the unfocused look of a scholar. Her glance traveled down his bare arms and over the tee shirt that strained across his hard chest. Those dreamy eyes were at odds with his hard bronzed body. He raised his eyes and caught her checking him out.

  She raised her brows and shrugged, fighting back a blush. “Pretty good abs for a scholar.”

  He took a sip of coffee his expression rueful. “Self-defense. Not everyone appreciates me nosing around in their business.”

  She tucked in her chin and looked him in the eye. “I can appreciate that.”

  He grinned then sobered. “How’s the arm?”

  Her fingers splayed, she raised it over her head and barely winced. “Almost as good as new.”

  Jack shook his head, his eyes bright, his expression awed. “It’s nothing short of a miracle. Lift up your sleeve.”

  She pushed up the arm of the green scoop-necked top she’d changed into. The only sign of the bullet’s entry and exit was a small pink, scar-like area the size of an old smallpox vaccination.

  He leaned halfway over the table and gently thumbed the pink spot.

  Her skin quivered. She cleared her throat, embarrassed and hoped he hadn’t noticed. “It will soon fade.”

  He moved his hand to the amulet and touched the smooth female stone, his expression curious. His eyes widened and he popped back against his chair as if he were seated on a coiled spring. “Wow.”

  Feeling her tension mount, Maureen stroked the amulet. As always, it calmed her. “I beg you. Please never talk about this to anyone.”

  Hank put in. “Mr. Wolf, I’m not beggin’ you but I’m telling you. If I hear you talking about Marnie or the amulet, let alone write it up in one of your fancy books, I’ll come looking for you and what’s left of you won’t inspire a lot of confidence.” Hank held Jack’s gaze for several seconds then as if satisfied slouched back in his hard-back chair, picked up his coffee and sipped.

  “As I said before, I will never write anything without your express approval and if and when I do it will be
in the form of a legend or an adventure yarn.” He grinned and cocked his chin. “It’d make a hell of a piece of fiction.”

  Hank thumped his coffee mug on the table and leaned forward. “Just remember what I said.”

  If Jack was intimidated, he gave no sign. His fingers spread open on the table he looked at Hank equal to equal. “Mr. McHenry, I’ve seen that arsenal you carry in your truck bed and I’ve no doubts you know how to use it.”

  “With or without the arsenal Ms. Sinclair’s secret is safe with me.”

  “Just so we understand each other.”

  “We do.” He turned his head toward Marnie. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, if I’m going to help keep you safe I need to know what’s going on.”

  He leaned his elbows on the table, watching her. “Where were you going the day you got run off the road and how many people knew where you were headed?”

  “I was going to speak at a new horse-rescue group that is being formed in Madison.”

  Jack pulled at his lower lip, his expression thoughtful. “Who knew you were speaking?”

  “Hank of course. And Mr. Smith, the president of the club.”

  He eased forward in his chair, his expression intent. “You said this is a new rescue?”

  “Yes.”

  “And have you heard from Mr. Smith since the accident?”

  “To be quite honest, I haven’t given it a thought. I probably should call and explain what happened.”

  She thought she heard him mutter under his breath, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t already know.”

  She leaned forward. “Excuse me?”

  “Do you know anything about this Mr. Smith?”

  She shrugged. “He saves horses. That’s all I needed to know.”

  “And he knew what time you’d be leaving?”

  She nodded.

  “And what route you’d take.”

  An arrested expression crossed her features. “He asked where I was coming from then told me about a short cut.” Her eyes widened in horror. “If it is him, I told him exactly where I live.”

  Hank reached over and patted her shoulder. “Don’t buy trouble girl.” But in spite of his words, his face was troubled.

  “And you told him what time you were leaving?” Jack persisted.

  Her breath caught in her throat and she pressed on her chest to push it out. “Yes.”

  He leaned toward her. “There was no reason for you to disbelieve him. Besides, I could be barking up the wrong tree.” Jack’s smile held kindness, concern lit his eyes.

  His gaze held hers and she found herself leaning toward him, mesmerized, thoughts of the attack fading.

  Her movement caused his glance to drop and his eyes darken. His expression changed, became speculative, as he looked at her chest and then her amulet.

  Any woman would recognize that look. He’s wondering if the amulet enhances sex.

  She put her hand against her chest and realized her top was gaping open. Hot color traveled up her neck and flooded her face as she straightened.

  Their glances collided. For a moment she saw devilment shining out of those hot brown eyes and his expression held a look as old as time. One that made her quiver and her insides melt before he blinked, raised an eyebrow and gave her an innocent look of mild inquiry.

  Devil. Wolf in scholar’s clothes. But she grinned in spite of herself.

  He grinned back.

  Silent communication passed between them.

  She cleared her throat and lifted her chin, gathering her dignity about her like a cloak, making a valiant effort to ignore her trembling insides. I’m an adult. I breed horses. And I know lust when it hits me right between the eyes. “Are you having fantasies about my amulet, Dr. Wolfe?”

  Jack bit down on his lip and grabbed his coffee his shoulders shaking. He took a sip and began to cough.

  Hank absently reached over and slapped him on the back with enough force to knock Jack forward and send his coffee arcing through the air to fall back in a magnificent cascade of brown liquid over his hand and onto the table.

  Maureen grabbed a handful of napkins, threw a couple to Jack and began to dab at the table, the soft white paper soaking up the brown liquid in seconds.

  Oblivious to the byplay, Hank stroked his chin, his expression thoughtful. “Our varmint knows you breed horses. But I’m thinking somehow he’s heard about your ability to heal.” He jerked his thumb at Jack. “Hell, North Carolina here, has even heard of it. I don’t like it, Marnie. I don’t like it at all. Two people have made the connection. Who’s going to make it next?”

  She came back to the here and now with a jolt. How could she be thinking about sex at a time like this?

  As Jack wiped the napkin over his hand, he jerked his chin in the direction of the amulet. “Do you always wear that in full view?”

  “I never take it off.”

  He rubbed his temple with his fingertips, his brow furrowed, his expression meditative. “You can hide a necklace or pendant, even put a ring on a chain and stuff it inside your shirt. But there’s no hiding an amulet. I wonder if that’s what the gods had in mind.”

  Reaching over, he picked up her hand and studied it. “You don’t wear any other jewelry not even rings.”

  Maureen felt a jolt run up her arm and charge her body, much like the one she’d received from the amulet. Her mind blank, her nerves racing like NASCAR entrants, she pulled at her earlobe. “Just these amethyst studs.”

  Hank cleared his throat. “You got a reason for fondling her fingers there boy?”

  Jack dropped her hand almost absently. “Camouflage.”

  She blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Start wearing more jewelry.”

  She made an exasperated sound somewhere between a cough and a snort. “I work with animals all day. It wouldn’t be practical.”

  “Get some ring bands that don’t have a mount but a little flash. Make people think you are into that sort of thing. That way they won’t ask so many questions about the amulet.”

  “Dr. Wolfe.”

  “Jack.”

  “Jack.” She strove to hold on to her patience. “I’m a plain, no-nonsense woman, I’m not into jewelry and makeup and girlie girl stuff.”

  He leaned forward in his chair, his gaze intense. “No one with emeralds for eyes and hair the color of a fiery sunset should ever term themselves plain.”

  She could only stare. It was Hank who broke the silence, his expression pained. “Could we get back to the matter at hand here? I’m sure that line works on your Southern belles, North Carolina but you’re dealing with a hardheaded Northern woman who has more sense.”

  “That would have been a fine speech, Hank, if you’d looked a bit less skeptical when you mentioned ‘who has more sense’,” Maureen said, her voice dry.

  He threw up his hands. “We don’t have time for this mating ritual. In case you’ve forgotten, someone’s trying to murder you.” His sharp gaze swung in Jack’s direction. “And I’ve no intention of letting some slow-drawling, slick Southern good ole boy jump your bones.”

  She gasped and puffed up like an angry red hen.

  His expression mild, Jack only said, “This good ole boy is thirty.”

  “And how do we know you’re who you say you are?” Hank was working up a good head of steam.

  “Check me out. Like I told you, I’m a writer and a professor at Western.”

  “So you say.“

  She recognized Hank’s bulldog expression and felt the amulet fight back the tension headache trying to surface.

  “Pull me up on the computer. My mugshot’s out there.”

  She turned to Hank. “Hank, I’ve seen him on the jacket cover of Indigo Feather. He’s who he says he is. Now whether he’s telling the truth about why he’s here, that he has no designs on the amulet and isn’t after a story, that I don’t know.”

  She looked at Jack to gauge his reaction, expecting an angry retort but i
f he’d even heard her he gave no sign. He wore what she was beginning to think of as his scholar’s expression, his eyes unfocused as if he were looking at something no one else could see as he fingered the scar on his hand in an absent gesture. At one time, it must have hurt like the devil.

  He snapped his fingers causing her to jump. “The computer. That’s how we’ll find out who this guy is. I just know enough to find research sites and tap out my findings on a keyboard but I’ve got a buddy who can make them sing in twenty different languages.” He jumped up from the table. “Let’s see those emails.”

  She cleared her throat and strove for the dignity of a woman who finds herself in an embarrassing situation through no fault of her own. “I deleted them.”

  “You what?” He howled as if in pain. His shoulders hunched as if against a blow. His face crunched up, he asked, “Did you empty your trash?”

  “Yes.”

  Wincing, he closed his eyes.

  “Wait.” She hopped up from the table.

  Wolf’s chin hit the floor and he yelped in surprise.

  Jack opened his eyes and tipped his head.

  “The last one. I think I still have the last one.” A huge smile of relief spread across her features and mirrored on Jack’s face.

  “Then let’s go see what we’ve got.” Jack pushed back his chair and Hank did the same.

  They trooped into the den. Maureen glanced at Jack and saw him look around the room. She wondered if he saw what she did. A cozy spot filled from ceiling to floor with books from regency romances to horse breeding. Several lay around open including her latest read Hundred Dollar Bill by Sherry Morris. Family pictures were scattered throughout. A warm breeze blew through the screened-in window rustling the old lace curtains. Her girlhood riding trophies littered the mantel over the stone fireplace. And the beaten-up mahogany desk held a brand-new computer.

  He looked at her and smiled his approval.

  Their eyes locked and held. Her breath clutched somewhere in her stomach. I hope you are who you say you are.

  “Why don’t you bring up your emails?”

  She hesitated, wary.

  He looked her in the eye and spoke quietly. “I know you don’t know me from Adam. But I promise you can trust me.”