Turning for Trouble: Book 7 of Cat Detective Familiar Legacy mystery series

by Susan Y. Tanner

  “Why would you help me?”

  For a moment, Malone just looked at her then she sighed. “Because I can. Because you need it.” It wasn’t a complete answer but it was all she could offer. “After we clean up, we’ll make a trip into town for a few things. Maybe I can talk to the county sheriff while we’re there, see what he can get started to make sure you have legal protection.”

  WELL, we learned nothing there except the fact that young Joss is not an accomplished liar which, all things considered, is at least a good thing to know. Panic can make the mildest of souls a hazard to themselves and others, but I don’t believe – at this point – that I need to keep an eye on her for anything except risk of flight. I am, however, confident that menace follows her.

  It would take a particularly nasty person to strike a young lady in the face and young is the appropriate descriptor. Young and vulnerable though she bears a quiet dignity that others, far greater than her in age, would do well to emulate.

  So now I must put my mind to the task of defense from some unknown threat that could come from any direction. While I await the pleasure of lunch, I shall reconnoiter the house once more with an eye to protecting the two females that fate has entrusted to my care.

  I find the rooms in this house an interesting design but not the most defensible. Most are unexpectedly connecting so that – although there is a central hallway as well – it is almost possible to make a full circle of the house room to room.

  Hmmm, a curtain is lifted ever so slightly by a breeze in the far bedroom. The open window is low enough to the ground that an intruder could easily gain silent access. Fortunately, I haven’t sensed anything sinister here. It’s plain the house, though vacant, has had caretakers. One was careless, no doubt. However, should some nefarious person seek entry, far better they be compelled to break a glass or force a lock, either of which would be sufficiently noisy to give warning of the act.

  As I step into the room, I freeze. Our stow-away stands at one side of the window. The disreputable looking bag, which doubtless contains all she can now claim as her own, sits on the bed behind her. It’s not difficult to deduce that she contemplates flight.

  WHEN TROUBLE CAME to get her – and there was no doubt in Malone’s mind that that was exactly his intent – Malone followed much more promptly than she might have prior to this morning’s disconcerting cell phone call and the unexpected arrival of Joss into her orderly though fast-paced existence.

  As Trouble led her down the hall it occurred to her, that as satisfying as her career was to her and as exciting the world of rodeo might seem to others, she’d gotten comfortable with being alone, responsible only for the horses – her own and those entrusted to her by others – and herself. It was work, hard work, but it was gratifying labor. Sure, there was heartache but also quiet pleasures and breathtaking successes.

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, she’d had thrust upon her a girl patently too young to be on her own and a black cat with a reputation for turning up where danger lurked. As convinced as Avery was of Trouble’s abilities, Malone retained a certain skepticism but wasn’t foolish enough to discount the possibilities. She’d lived close to horses for too many years not to realize there were depths to animals that some people never discerned.

  When Trouble led her straight to the farthest bedroom, she took in the scene at a glance. Joss had one leg swung over the window sill, the duffle bag balanced in front of her.

  “Wait!”

  Joss glanced at Malone then flung the bag out the window. She ducked her head and pulled her other leg through the opening. Malone hesitated long enough to wonder if she could run down the hall and out of the house faster than she could dive through the window after the girl. She dove.

  Scrambling to her feet, she sprinted after Joss, knowing she’d have aches and pains come morning from her landing. Joss was fast, even hampered by the duffle bag which banged against her with every stride. They neared the end of the long dirt drive. Out of breath and desperate to stop the girl, Malone lunged and caught the shoulder strap of the duffle bag.

  Joss stumbled and turned toward her, eyes frantic. “Let me go! They’ll send me back! If you go to the law, here or anywhere, they’ll send me back.”

  Jerking free, Joss staggered backward. Tears slipped from her eyes and Malone’s heart broke for her. “I won’t,” Malone whispered, stricken by the girl’s fear. “I promise. I won’t. Not a word.”

  Joss sank to her knees there in the grass and Malone went with her, wrapping her arms around too thin shoulders. The girl wept and Malone asked no more questions. She simply held her through the storm.

  When Malone finally coaxed Joss back inside, Trouble followed Malone through the house to her room. He leaped upon the bed, watching her with a steady emerald green gaze.

  Malone looked back at him. “Thank you.” She felt foolish for saying it but ...

  Trouble stretched and circled slowly before he lay down. He swished his tail just a bit then curled it around him and closed his eyes.

  And I am dismissed, Malone thought.

  LUNCH WAS ADEQUATE, I suppose, but a trip into town will be just the thing as I’m hopeful we’ll return with fare that is more than just adequate! But, of course, Ms. Rodeo must first ensure that her Jaz continues safe and happy in her surroundings as appears to be the case. I wonder if she noticed that Joss appears at ease in the presence of the very large equine. I deduce this wasn’t our runaway’s first close-up encounter with that species.

  As I settle upon the rather comfortable back seat of the truck, I debate if the time required for the drive will allow for a bit of a nap. But, no, I hear from the front seat that we need only the local feed store and small grocer in a nearby community. Jaz must have fresh hay and stall bedding for a night or two and we, of course, must have an adequate supply of provisions.

  I do feel vindicated that Ms. Rodeo recognized my superior capacities so quickly. Rarely do humans respond to my commands within the first day of our acquaintance. I do sense, however, that she may not be crediting my abilities with the significance they deserve. Hopefully, there will be no need for her to learn the true and far-reaching extent of my talents. But we shall see. Here I am and here I shall stay until convinced there’s no danger to this extremely independent barrel racer.

  I hear her comment to Joss upon the girl’s apparent comfort with equine and I settle into my nap, pleased at such an observant nature. My job is always much easier when the human in my care is aware and perceptive.

  “HAVE YOU BROKEN ANY LAWS?” Despite Joss’ reticence, Malone was working on a need-to-know basis. Some questions had to be asked and answered. Non-negotiable.

  “No, ma’am.” The lack of hesitation and calm in Joss’ response was reassuring.

  “Where is your family?”

  “I don’t have any.” Before Malone could challenge her on that, Joss added softly, “Not anymore.” And Malone left that heartache alone.

  “Is anyone going to be looking for you?”

  For a while, Malone thought she wouldn’t answer, but she finally admitted, “Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t think so but, if they do, I’ll kill or be killed but I won’t go with them.”

  Malone felt a chill down her spine. Them, again. Plural. That had an ugly sound to it. She sighed, not happy with the complicated turn her life had taken. Nothing to do about it now, because she wouldn’t put the girl out on the street.

  Time to turn the subject. “You’ve spent time around horses?”

  “Once upon a time. Not so much this past year.”

  “How well do you ride?”

  “Better than most, not as well as some.”

  “Barrels?”

  Joss shook her head. “Brush track racing. I jockeyed for trainers. But not on race day.”

  Malone heard the slightest edge of resentment in the last part. There remained a lot of discrimination against female athletes in every sport and racing was no exception. Barriers were being broken but slo
wly.

  “Well, here’s what I can offer you for now. Food in your stomach, but you’ll be expected to help cook and clean up after. A roof over your head, most often in the living quarters of my horse trailer as I’m on the road a lot. A little cash in your pocket.” She named a by-the-day figure she could afford and seemed fair when coupled with room and board.

  “In return for?”

  Malone glanced over to find herself being watched with more than a trace of suspicion.

  “Maybe exercising horses since you’ve got the skill but I’ll have to watch you first,” she cautioned. “Grooming, cleaning stalls, all the things I have to do each and every day. I’m only in LaGrange for a day or two then I’m headed back to Oklahoma City for a last run before the circuit finals in Montgomery. I’ve got horses to pick up along the way – more than I usually try to take on in the same trip – but I’ve ridden them to success this year and I’m being paid well to run them in the finals. I can use the help. It’s up to you.”

  “I feel safer here. Maybe I could just stay in the house until you get back. Take care of it and all. You wouldn’t have to pay me anything. I could get a job in town.”

  “Well, my plan right now is to put that property on the market.” But even as Malone said the words, she felt something deep inside tugging her in a different direction. Regardless, she wasn’t about to leave a young teen there alone. “You don’t have a way to get to and from town. Besides it wouldn’t be long until someone figured out you were there and called the authorities.”

  Joss huffed and the sound of teen frustration brought a smile to Malone’s lips though this certainly wasn’t a matter for much levity.

  Malone pulled into a parking place in front of the feed store and turned to look at Joss. “I’ll keep you as safe as I can, as safe as I keep the horses in my care, but the more information I have about who or what might come looking for you, the better I can do at that.”

  Joss met her look steadily and said, “I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

  Malone wasn’t sure if Joss meant she’d think about the job or owning up to what she faced but Malone held her peace. She had a strong-willed girl on her hands. She ought to know. It felt a bit like looking into a mirror from her own distant past. Except she’d been running to, not running from.

  They made a quick trip into the feed store and Joss proved she was no stranger to ranch work. Without hesitation, she jumped lightly into the back of the truck to catch and land a couple bags of feed followed by bags of stall shavings and bales of hay. All were tossed to her by a young man who looked like he wanted to flirt. Though Joss kept as much of her hair stuffed under that well-worn ball cap as she could, Malone noted it did nothing to hide the fact that she was very much a girl and a pretty one at that. Regardless, the young man’s efforts to catch her attention got no encouragement from Joss.

  After gathering horse supplies, they shifted gears and walked into a rather quaint market which had all they needed and then some.

  Not until they were settled into the truck with their few bags of food did Malone check the phone she tended to keep on silent and see she had a missed call. Reluctantly, she hit play to listen to the message. Tyge’s voice, his tone of despair, caught her like a throat punch. “Malone? Babe?” There was a long pause and for a moment she thought he’d broken the connection with just that. “I’m so damned sorry about this mess. Let me hear from you. Please, Malone.”

  The sound of weariness at the end affected her even more than the initial desperation. Good God in heaven, what had Tyge done this time? And what did it have to do with her?

  With Joss’ curious gaze fixed on her, Malone hit redial but the call went straight to voice mail. She didn’t leave a message. What could she say?

  With a shrug at Joss as if the call were of no consequence, Malone turned the key in the ignition. But inside, she was trembling with all too familiar anxiety. And she had never, ever wanted to feel this way again. Vowed she never would.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  M alone turned into her grandparents’ drive and wondered if she would ever consider this place anything but theirs. She saw and recognized Cade’s truck pulled to one side and stifled whatever feeling stirred somewhere deep within her. She sensed Joss’ quick tension and said, “Friend, not foe,” before she stepped out of the truck and started pulling bags out of the back seat. The friend part wasn’t quite accurate, but whatever Cade was to her, he was not her enemy.

  Anything Joss might be thinking, feeling, she hid it well as she helped Malone with the bags. And, with her own nerves on edge from Joss’ precipitous entrance to her life and Tyge’s ominous phone message and now Cade’s unexpected appearance, all Malone wanted to do was get a grip so she didn’t fall apart. Not here and not now. Not in front of Cade.

  ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, the trip into town was productive as well as enlightening as to the character of the woman I am here to protect. Nosing through the market bags during our return trip, I found not one package of dry cat food nor a single tin filled with typically smelly ingredients while carrying the inappropriate labeling of feast or cuisine in regard to feline nourishment. It is clear she understands that my tastes are far more sophisticated than that.

  As we descend from the heights of this rather massive truck, I hear the tiny hum of dismay as she casts another glance at the truck I recognize as belonging to Mr. Silver Eyes. I agree with her that he is not foe so I’m not alarmed at his presence. I am, however, curious that he isn’t waiting in the truck. I feel confident he wouldn’t be the type to enter her home uninvited even should he find the front door unsecured which it was not. I turn from watching her unlock the aforementioned door and saunter in the direction of the barn and paddock.

  Saunter. Rather a nice word. It conveys my supreme confidence in my assessment of the situation as well as my absolute certainty that I can manage any troublesome circumstance that might arise. At the other end of the spectrum, I am equally capable of lethal speed and use of force when and if I find either a necessity.

  I spy the object of my search with both arms propped against a fence rail watching Jaz graze. I’d gotten attuned to equine nuances during my sojourn at Summer Valley Ranch. This rather large specimen is comfortable with the human’s presence though attentive to the canine sitting quietly at his side. I can tell this primarily by the periodic twitching of the ears in that direction as if to gauge any untoward movement.

  Those ears prick forward and, though the noble steed’s head does not lift, the grazing ceases as the dog stands at my approach.

  Without turning, the man murmurs a quiet, “Whoa, Townsend.”

  And, what, I ask myself, is a name like Townsend to bestow on a canine? Gleaming – though oddly patterned – black and white fur and a fit physique aside, this is a dog. And, generally speaking, I do not much care for dogs. They bark at inopportune moments and oft times must be put in their place with a quick swipe of an extended claw - or two.

  This one, I am pleased to note, heeds the softly spoken command of his master but my final judgement of character remains on hold.

  CADE WAITED for Malone to come to him. He’d heard her truck pull in, truck doors opening and closing. She couldn’t have missed the presence of his own pick-up parked at one side of the drive.

  He sensed the black cat before he saw him, watched as the lithesome feline leapt to a fat, corner post. Large green eyes stared back at him without blinking. The highly-vaunted Trouble, no doubt. That green stare shifted from his only when Townsend’s tail began to whip in greeting as Malone walked up.

  “Hi.”

  One husky word from her and years blinked out of existence. He saw them squared off as they’d been so long ago, experienced once again his frustration, saw the mix of anger and hurt on her face. He couldn’t count the times he’d regretted those moments, the heated, cutting words that had sent them spinning in opposite directions.

  “I was wrong.” It wasn’t exactly what he’d intended t
o say but once the words were spoken, he wasn’t sorry.

  “Yes.” For a moment, he thought she would stop there, with that single acknowledgement of his fault, his failure. Then she added, softly, “And I wasn’t old enough or wise enough to know what I didn’t know.” She broke their eye contact and turned to look out across the paddock. “But I suspect you didn’t drive all this way to tell me that.”

  “No, but I should have. I’m proud of you, Malone. Of who you are and what you’ve made of yourself. Your success.” He wasn’t just talking about the fact that she’d managed to make a truly good living in an industry that was as demanding, as competitive, and as heartbreaking as any athletic sport on national television. She’d done it with grace and style. And she’d done it alone, succeeding despite her ex-boyfriend.

  “Thank you.”

  Her profile was to him, her attention fixed on the horse in the paddock. He couldn’t tell if his words mattered to her at all. Wasn’t sure how he felt about saying them but didn’t regret that he had. It was past time they made peace with each other.

  A brisk wind sent a scrap of paper toward the mare. She snorted and shied away from it in play, prancing halfway around the pen for good measure before settling again to graze on the last grass of summer.

  Malone’s lips curved in a faint smile that faded when she turned back to Cade. “So why are you here, Cade?”

  He tilted his head toward the black cat sitting motionless and watchful on the corner post. “To find out what that cat knows and make sure you’re in no danger.”

  “As you can see, I’m fine. You can head back out with a clear conscience.”

  He ignored the suggestion. “How long are you staying in LaGrange?”