Soul of the Wildcat

by Devyn Quinn

  She blinked, but her eyes were slow to focus in the gloom. A figure loomed in front of her, vaguely familiar.

  She fumbled for the penlight he’d left in her care. “J-Jesse!?” she stammered, attempting to pull her wits together and stuff them back into her skull.

  He knelt beside her. “It’s me.” His long hair whipped around his face and shoulders, tugged by the wind’s violent gusts. “Sorry I was gone so long. I got lost a couple of times.”

  A corner of her mouth turned up. “Some Indian you are. Thought you guys were born trackers.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, well, contrary to popular belief, not all Indians are country boys in tune with the land of their ancestors. I was born in the city and I need a map to get around just like anyone else.” Another soft laugh. “It would also help if I had night vision. Most of where I’m going is a guess.”

  Stiff and achy, Dakoda clambered to her knees. Every joint and muscle in her body sang out in protest. She gritted her teeth against the pain and forced herself to ignore it. “Did you find somewhere we could hole up?”

  Jesse knelt, slipping a shoulder under her arm so he could help her rise. “Actually, I did. I think you’ll be pretty happy, too.”

  Leaning against his solid frame, a flicker of hope sparked in her head. “A cave?” she asked, envisioning a nice snug hole to crawl in and curl up.

  “Better.” His voice carried a tone of achievement.

  “Better would be me at home, in my own bed,” she groused.

  He pounced on that one the way a cat would a tasty morsel. “Better would be me, at your house, in your bed,” he hinted.

  Dakoda lifted her chin. “Is that all you think about, getting in my pants?”

  A soft laugh wafted through the wind, caressing her ears. “All the time,” he chuckled.

  She flashed the tiny penlight in his face. “Can we just go, you damn horny toad?”

  “Cougar,” he corrected through a grin. “Horny cougar.”

  Urging her forward, Jesse led her through a thick area of trees and other weedy brambles. Dakoda’s bum ankle ached with every step, but she forced herself to concentrate on walking. Jesse already had enough on his hands without worrying about a cripple.

  Somehow, they pressed forward. Nothing was familiar. Nothing recognizable. Every tree and bush looked like the last, stretching on endlessly. These mountains truly were the middle of nowhere.

  Despair rose. It seemed like they’d walk forever on a trail that would go on and on until they just collapsed and died from exhaustion.

  “Are you sure this is the right way?” she grunted between painful steps.

  Jesse nodded. “It’s here, I know,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  He all of the sudden came to a halt. Lifting his arms, he pointed toward a tangled mass. “There.”

  Dakoda’s gaze followed the direction he indicated. “Am I seeing…?” she started to ask. Eyes snapping open, exhaustion drained away as familiar lines were illuminated through bright flashes of lightning.

  He nodded. “It’s a plane. One of the wings has snapped off and the belly’s tore up a little, but otherwise it’s intact.” He caught her ice-tinged hand, squeezing her fingers with his larger, warmer ones.

  She smoothed her tangled hair away from her face. The wreckage was the best thing she’d ever seen in her entire life. Tears pricked at her eyes. She blinked them away. Now wasn’t the time to get all sentimental. “Crashed, no doubt.”

  “No doubt,” he agreed. “Bad for them. Good for us.” He tugged her forward. “And wait until you see what’s inside.”

  They headed for the plane, taking care to pick their way through the rubble of downed trees and other scattered debris. The last thing Dakoda needed was another broken ankle.

  After plummeting out of the sky, the plane had clearly skidded across the tops of the trees. The force of the impact had completely torn off one wing and bent the other. The cockpit was smashed, something the pilot couldn’t possibly have survived. It had come to a rest on the ground upright, minus its landing gear.

  Jesse wrenched open the side hatch. “I couldn’t believe it when I found this,” he huffed, pulling himself up into the opening. “It’s like manna from heaven.” He bent and held out a hand for Dakoda. “Coming?”

  She nodded and gave him her hand. “Gladly.” Jesse hefted her inside. She dug in her pocket, flicking on the penlight he’d left with her, shining it into the black, yawning void.

  One look told her the plane wasn’t for passengers. No, this big old baby was stripped down and outfitted for hauling cargo. A series of storage bays lined the walls, leaving the middle aisle reserved for the main portion of the shipment. Square bales wrapped in black tarp and duct tape were stacked one atop the other. There must have been a hundred, maybe more.

  Dakoda’s eyes widened. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Jesse grinned. “Yep. Marijuana.” He looked around. “I’d say some drug dealer somewhere is a very unhappy man.”

  Dakoda flashed the penlight around. “How long do you think it’s been here?”

  Jesse cocked a thumb toward the front of the plane. “Judging by the look of the bodies still strapped in the seats, they’ve been here quite awhile. Didn’t take long for all the little beasties in the forest to make a good meal of the remains.”

  Dakoda shivered, grimacing at the thought. “I don’t think I want to see.” A thought occurred. “I don’t suppose the radio works?”

  He shook his head. “That’s the first thing I checked. It’s smashed.”

  “Just our luck, which really seems to suck lately.” She shined the thin beam around. “I’m surprised they haven’t found the wreckage.”

  “Even if they have, there’s nothing they can use here.” Jesse kicked a bale. “Unless you’re a drug dealer or jonesing for a doobie, it’s all pretty worthless.”

  Dakoda sighed. “Guess you’re right there.” Struggling out of the borrowed overcoat, she lay it aside. Taking a seat atop the bales, she stretched out her legs. “Well, at least we’ve got a roof over our heads.”

  “That’s a plus,” Jesse agreed.

  She looked around. “What’s in the storage?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. Haven’t had time to look.”

  She handed over the penlight. “Might as well.”

  Jesse set to rummaging through the bays, which doubled as seating for the plane’s passengers. He flipped up one flat top, shining the light inside. “Oh, this is good.”

  Dakoda heard the sound of broken glass shifting. “What is it?”

  Jesse dug some more. “Booze,” he said, pawing through a carton stuffed with straw. “Most of the bottles are broken, but…Ah!” He pulled out an undamaged bottle. “Pay dirt. Looks like our smugglers dealt in more than weed.”

  Feeling a twinge at the back of her throat, Dakoda licked her dry, chapped lips. “Heaven be praised. I could use a drink about now. What is it?”

  Jesse handed the bottle over. “Looks like Mexican tequila, worm and all.”

  Dakoda scrunched up her nose. “Tequila ain’t my favorite thing,” she said, cracking the seal and catching a whiff of the distinctive scent. “In this case, I’ll make an exception.” Putting the rim to her lips, she tipped back her head and took a healthy swallow. The tequila burned all the way down her throat, lighting a fire in her belly. Warmth began to seep into her chilled system. Various aches and pains throughout her body settled down into a dull throb.

  “Hey, take it easy,” he warned. “You’re drinking on an empty stomach. Too much and you’ll pass out cold.”

  Dakoda handed over the bottle, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Don’t remind me that I haven’t eaten much today. I’m so damn hungry the worm in that bottle is starting to look good.”

  Jesse took a quick swig. “Let me see what else I can find.”

  He dug through some more bins. “More damn alcohol,” he groused, slamming the lids shut. “Don
’t drug smugglers have to eat?”

  Dakoda pointed to another row of bins on the opposite wall. “How about those?” She started to rise, but trying to put pressure on her ankle sat her back down. She winced, a breath of air escaping through her teeth in a hiss. “Damn, I think getting off it was the worst thing I could have done.”

  “Just stay put and I’ll do the looking,” he said, waving her back down.

  He switched sides, digging through more bins. He lifted a couple of thick heavy-looking parcels out of one. “Well, here’s the parachutes they obviously didn’t get to use.”

  “A lot of good those will do,” she groused.

  He set them aside. “More good than you think, actually. They’ll make quite a snug bed for us tonight.”

  Dakoda sipped a little more tequila. More warmth spread through her, delivering a contented glow. “Good idea,” she nodded. “Looks like that Indian sense is beginning to kick in.”

  Jesse moved to another set of bins. “Last set.” He opened them up and shined the light inside. “I wish I could say things were looking up for us.”

  Dakoda craned her neck to see. “What is it?”

  Frowning deeply, he reached inside. “Unfortunately it isn’t anything we can eat.” He pulled out a small carton, shining the light across its face: .9MM LUGER AMMUNITION. “Looks like our drug dealers came prepared for trouble.”

  Dakoda closed her eyes in dismay. Through the last few hours she’d been feeling woozy, trying to ignore the growls and rumbling deep in her stomach. Knowing Jesse was probably just as hungry, she hadn’t complained. They’d been denied further meals as punishment for not performing for Kamai. A hungry animal, he’d said, would perform better.

  She pressed a hand against her stomach to stay the growl deep inside her gut. “Any guns there?”

  Jesse pulled out a couple of leather pouches. “I’m going to guess this is the firepower.” He unzipped one of the pouches and took the weapon out. “Just what I thought.” He made a quick check of the magazine and slide with the confidence of one used to handling a firearm. “Loaded and ready for action,” he announced.

  Dakoda cocked a brow. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

  Jesse returned the gun to its pouch. “I can handle myself,” he said. “If it comes to them killing me or me killing them, you can be pretty much assured I will pull the trigger first.”

  She nodded. “In this case, I would have to agree.” In the back of her mind she was sure she could shoot Skeeter Barnett down without hesitation and smile as she did it.

  Jesse did a quick rundown. “So we’ve got our drugs, our booze, and our guns. Pretty much everything you’d expect a smuggler to carry.”

  “Nothing else?” Dakoda asked plaintively.

  He shined the penlight into the bin again. The small beam was losing its bright, cutting edge. The batteries clearly wouldn’t last much longer.

  Jesse showed her the white box marked with a big red plus sign. “And here’s where you believe there is a God after all. What every good drug dealer needs to have on hand. A first-aid kit.”

  Dakoda grinned despite herself. “That’s better than nothing.”

  “Don’t forget, we have something nice and warm to wrap ourselves in,” Jesse reminded. “Just give me a minute and I’ll get us all settled in.”

  15

  Jesse set to work, rearranging the belly of the plane into a campsite. Restacking some of the marijuana bales, he hollowed out a good-sized space in the center of the shipment, leaving a single layer as padding against the bare floor. Ripping open the parachutes, he unfurled the nylon material, spreading it out to form a layer of bedding.

  Hands on his hips, Jesse surveyed his efforts with satisfaction. “Your castle awaits, my lady.”

  Tequila clutched in one hand, Dakoda slid over the waist-high bales and lowered herself into the space. Though half the size of the cell they’d earlier occupied, it was a hell of a lot cozier. Giving a little sigh of relief, she sank down on the bale-padded floor. “Oh, man. This is the first time I’ve felt safe since all this shit began.”

  A particularly strong gust of wind hit the plane, giving the wreckage a good shove. “At least we’re out of the storm,” Jesse said, climbing in with the first-aid kit. “Just a minute and I’ll take a look at your ankle. Still bothering you?”

  “Yeah, in the worst of ways.” Bending a leg, Dakoda clawed at the laces of her boots. The water had swollen them tight and thick, making them difficult to handle. “I’d like to get these off,” she groused. “My foot is killing me.”

  “Let me.” Clenching the penlight between his teeth, Jesse used the tip of his stolen pocketknife to pry the laces apart. Untying them, he eased the boot off Dakoda’s foot, and then her wet sock. His fingers gently probed her ankle, swollen to twice its normal size.

  Stretching and wiggling her cramped toes, Dakoda leaned back against the bales. “Is it broken?”

  Manipulating the area, Jesse shook his head. His touch heated her skin, causing the hair at the nape of her neck to rise with pleasant anticipation. “I didn’t make it to med school, but I don’t think so. You twisted it pretty bad, though. Best thing for it now is to stay off it.” Reaching for the first-aid kit, he snapped it open. “Let’s see here…” He pawed past a roll of sterile gauze for an elastic bandage and adhesive tape. “This ought to stabilize your ankle.” He handed over the light. “Keep it steady so I can see what I’m doing.”

  Holding the penlight for him, Dakoda watched him unroll the elastic, then carefully circle it around her swollen ankle. As he bent closer, his scent assailed her senses, lush and wildly exotic. He smelled of the storm and his own musky heat. Knowing how he tasted, how his hard muscled body felt on top of hers, sent a tremor up her spine.

  No time to be thinking about that, she warned herself. With a roof over her head and a belly full of intoxicating tequila, her mind was beginning to drift toward other things. A curiously familiar numbness was spreading through her body. She was more than a little tipsy. It was easy to imagine making slow, sweet sensuous love to him atop the silken material.

  Pushing the forbidden thoughts away, she cleared her throat and tried to remember what the subject was before she’d veered off track.

  “Looks like you’ve had some medical training,” she commented, noting he took care to make sure the circulation wasn’t cut off. As a junior ranger she’d taken several courses on wilderness survival. She had a rough idea which plants were edible, which were poisonous, and how to stay hydrated when drinkable water wasn’t readily available. Stumbling onto the wreckage was a stroke of luck.

  “Actually, I have,” he said.

  “Oh?” Braced by the stretchy material, her foot instantly felt a hundred percent better. Another swig of tequila helped even more.

  Jesse used a few strips of tape to secure the bandage. “I worked as a lifeguard at the college pool.” He shrugged. “Went through a couple of training courses. For a while I thought I might switch and study to become a paramedic.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “I thought you were studying to be an accountant.”

  “Was is the key word,” he reminded. “I never graduated.”

  She shook her head. “Somehow I don’t see you as a bean counter.”

  “Honestly I don’t either.” A low laugh broke from his lips. “Thanks to my uncle, I had a job on the reservation, working in the casino after I graduated. Nice salary, good benefits. I’d have been set for life.”

  “Do you regret leaving all that behind?” Dakoda asked.

  Jesse thought a moment. “On good days, I like living in these mountains, being wild and free. On bad days—like now—I miss the conveniences of a normal life.”

  Dakoda nodded. “I guess there are advantages to both.”

  Jesse sighed. “Our tribe would have more advantages if the wheels of the federal government didn’t grind so exceedingly slow. I am sure the powers-that-be think we’re just a bunch of crazy Indians out her
e running wild with the big cats.”

  Dakoda stifled a giggle behind her hand. “All the while not knowing you are the big cats.”

  He reached for the bottle of tequila. “And not many of us left at all,” he said, after taking a quick sip. “It’s really an ability that’s dying out. Somehow our tribe held on to the old knowledge, but I don’t know how much longer we’ll have it. The elders are dying off, and the next generation has been seduced by modern technology and beliefs.”

  “I can see where it would be difficult to hang on to such an ability in today’s world. Who could believe such a thing without seeing it with their own eyes?”

  Jesse took another thoughtful sip, grimacing as the strong alcohol hit his stomach. “No one would, and that’s the point. We’ve got to manage to hang on to our fading heritage without letting the outside world know we exist. Can you imagine the media frenzy if something like this got out?”

  Dakoda winced. “I wouldn’t even want to imagine it,” she said.

  “Neither would I.” Jesse patted her foot, then helped her take off her other boot. He sat them up on the edge of the bales. “That’s taken care of. Now let’s see if we can’t do something to take the edge off the pain.” Looking in the first-aid kit again, he dug through some antiseptic wipes and antibiotic cream, finally coming up with a plastic container of plain old aspirin. He shined the light on its label. “It’s expired.” He tossed it back in the box. “No good.”

  Dakoda lifted the tequila bottle. “Guess this will have to do.”

  He watched as she took another stiff drink. “Is it helping?”

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I don’t know, but I don’t care.” Her voice was more than a little slurred.

  “Better slow down,” he cautioned. “Don’t want to wake up with a nasty hangover tomorrow.”

  Hunger was getting the better of her. She finally had to open up and spit it out. “I don’t suppose there’s something to eat in that damn kit,” she asked. “I hate to complain, but I think I’m about to pass out.”