Travis hugged Oscar even tighter and ran, his hair blowing wildly in the rising wind.
Desiree watched him from the barn door. Only when she saw him actually enter the house did she take her gaze off the boy. She wiped Oscar’s blood from her hand just as the heavens let loose with the mighty roar of monsoon rain. The rain pelted against the metal roof of the barn, adding a tinny chorus to the blast.
Stall by empty stall, she searched the barn, starting at the open north end of the long structure. The bottom doors at the south end were closed, with the top doors left unlatched for air. Whoever he was, he’d have to climb out that way to escape. If you’re in here and you hurt my dog, I guarantee you won’t go anywhere.
She reached the occupied stalls. With one hand holding her weapon straight up, the other bracing herself against the stalls, she continued her search. What she saw made her stomach turn.
The horses had been attacked, their beautiful coats ruined. Pearl Drop had gouges of hair chopped from her proud mane. Morgan’s Gem and Caro’s Cactus Blossom had paint sprayed all over their bodies. Wyatt’s Arabian Pride was missing the lower half of his tail—thank heaven the thief had left the blooded root. Silver hair lay in a heap on the ground. Jasentha’s Shooting Star had paint on her neck and muzzle and perilously close to her eyes, but they seemed to have escaped injury.
Thank God Travis wasn’t hurt. Was that Oscar’s doing?
Desiree shivered. What kind of person could do this? He could be capable of anything! Desiree reached Onyx’s stall and gasped aloud.
Onyx stood on three legs, his black head drooping, his rear leg lifted from the ground. Beneath the hoof was a puddle of fresh dark blood. The delicate tendon holding hoof to bone had been sliced. Desiree felt her stomach lurch, not at the gore but at the depravity, and the waste of such beauty. There’s no way to fix that. He’ll have to be destroyed.
She continued to watch the horses’ heads from within Onyx’s stall. They would warn of an in-truder—could smell their enemy if he still remained. One of the horses squealed and shied. Was it an intruder that spooked them? Was it the crashing thunder? Or was it the smell of Onyx’s blood?
Whoever had done this, he wasn’t leaving, Desiree thought grimly. There are only two ways out of here. I’ve got one covered, and the posse is coming.
TRAVIS CAME RACING into the house, breathless, with the bleeding dog in his arms. “Dad!” he screamed. “Daddy, help!”
His screams raised his father. Virgil, already changed out of his uniform, rushed to his side, joined by Jasentha and Caro.
“My God, Travis, are you all right?”
“Yeah, but Oscar’s hurt! Ray thinks there’s someone in the barn. She says don’t come out without your gun!”
Virgil immediately opened the cabinet to remove his Colt and strapped it around his waist. He tossed the key into Caro’s outstretched hand.
“Where’s Cat?” Virgil asked as Caro retrieved a rifle and loaded it.
“Upstairs. Ben’s with Rogelio. I’ll call his office. Morgan and Wyatt are still out doing the evening feeding.”
“Damn! I was afraid of that. Have Rogelio send out the hands to search the other barns. I want an armed search,” he emphasized.
“I’ll take care of Oscar,” Jasentha said. “Travis, give me the dog, then run upstairs and get my animal first aid kit. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
Virgil headed for the door. “You stay here, son. Caro, lock up behind me. Windows and doors.”
“Got it.” Caro locked the gun cabinet and placed the key on the fireplace mantel.
“Travis, I’ll be right back.” He kissed his son’s head. “Do what you’re told. Stay inside.”
“Yes, sir.”
Virgil left, Jasentha carried Oscar away to the kitchen, and Caro ran to the other rooms to close the many open windows. Travis started for the stairs, planning to get the first aid kit, then hesitated.
Now’s my chance...
He stared at the key on the mantel. With shaking hands, he grabbed it. Quickly, he unlocked the cabinet, grabbed the 9 mm handgun and a box of ammo and relocked the case. He dropped the gun into one pocket, the bullets into another, then replaced the key, and ran upstairs. He shoved box and gun under his mattress, then hurried into Jasentha’s room for the first aid kit.
DESIREE CONTINUED her searching sweep of the barn. The rain came down in sheets, pounding different tattoos overhead. She could just hear the frenzied, painful blowing of Onyx behind her. Slowly, she reached the end of the barn—and the empty stall where Travis had been playing with the kittens.
One of the kittens was motionless—the others hidden in the alfalfa bales with the mother. She ignored the fluffy carnage at her feet. Thank God Travis hadn’t seen it! Every nerve ending was fixed on the closed half doors at the south end of the barn. She didn’t see a movement; she felt rather than saw the presence of friend, not foe. There’s only one man who does that to me. The tension left her body as she straightened up, silently acknowledging how strong her feelings for him had become, even if she couldn’t say the words aloud.
“It’s all clear, Virgil. Come on in.”
Virgil, soaking wet from the continuing rain, edged into view. Desiree watched him unlatch one of the bottom doors and join her.
Before he reached her side, he asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, but the animals aren’t.” She gestured to the dead kitten at her feet. He stared.
“You saw no one?”
“No. He must’ve just missed Travis.” She swallowed hard. “He was probably here, inside the barn, when Travis was playing with the kittens. He—he must’ve killed this kitten when Travis ran out to get me.” She gazed at the pouring rain. “This psycho could be hiding anywhere, Virgil! The barns, the cars, anywhere.”
“Caro’s called Rogelio. He and the ranch hands will search the area.”
“Travis?”
At her look of consternation, he added, “Don’t worry. Caro and Jasentha are staying with the kids. Caro’s armed. So are the hands.”
Virgil holstered his gun, hunkered down and lifted the dead kitten. Its neck flopped at an unnatural angle. He carefully placed it on an alfalfa bale. The mother cat came out of hiding and hopped onto the bale to lick at her baby, trying desperately to revive it. Virgil gently stroked the head of the frantic mother until she finally left the lifeless kitten and went back to the others.
“Jasentha’s with Oscar,” he said. “She’ll take care of your dog.”
Desiree nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“What’s the damage to the horses?” Virgil asked.
“They were spray-painted. Some had manes and tails hacked off. But they’ll clean up good as new.”
Virgil started off toward the horses, but Desiree took his arm. “Except for one.”
He stopped.
“Virgil, it’s Onyx....”
“Onyx? What...” He took a step forward. “How bad?”
“Real bad.” She remembered how sick, how shaken, the sight of poor little Oscar had made her. Terrible as the dog’s injuries looked, he would live. Unlike Onyx. “Just—prepare yourself, okay?”
Virgil hurried over to Onyx’s stall. His eyes burned as he took in the lax stance of the sweating, trembling stallion. He touched the horse’s soft muzzle, running his hand down the neck, the back, then the rear leg to pick up the bleeding, damaged hoof.
“How could anyone do this?” Virgil asked in a harsh voice.
Why was more important, Desiree thought to herself. But first things first. She fingered her Colt; she deliberately hadn’t holstered the weapon yet.
“You want me to put him down?” she asked Virgil. Like most riders, she knew that drugs couldn’t be used on horses the way they were on dogs and cats. Equine bodies were too heavy, too massive for barbiturates to work quickly enough. The animal would become drowsy and fall, breaking its legs and suffering terribly, before the drug stopped its heart. Vets “bolted” horse
s, using a small ammunition bolt that fired a single bullet into the brain. But the vet wasn’t here, and this horse was obviously in terrible pain.
“Put him down?” Virgil echoed.
“Yes. No reason you should have do it.” Desiree lifted her gun, a lump in her throat. “With your permission...”
“No one puts this horse down except me, and now is not the time!” Onyx started at the violence of his words, then stumbled on three legs. “Whoa, boy, it’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”
“Virgil, I know how you must feel, but you can’t—”
“Put the gun away, Desiree,” he said, his hands still moving over the horse: “Please.”
The raw vulnerability in his voice disturbed her. First the problems with Travis...now this. Yet somehow, he remained positive, in control.
She put away her Colt, just as Wyatt and Morgan entered the barn. She left Virgil with the horse and hurried to exchange information with them.
“No one’s found anything?” she asked the men.
“Not so far. I doubt they will.” Wyatt gestured outside. “Not in that mess.” The rain was pouring with monsoon fierceness, heavy sheets were all that could be seen. Visibility past that maelstrom was virtually nonexistent.”
“We do know he’s not in any of the buildings,” Morgan added. “We’ve stationed hands in each one, and they’ll be spending the night, as well. Jasentha said to tell you Oscar will be okay.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. Your dog was lucky. The main artery in the tail was nicked. She had to cauterize it to stop the bleeding.”
Poor little pooch! How it must have hurt, and me not there for him. She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “At least he’s alive. Someone broke the neck of one of the kittens. And Virgil’s horse is going to have to be put down.” Desiree turned toward her sister’s husband. “Wyatt, he won’t do it. Won’t let me do it. Maybe you can convince him....”
The two brothers, as dripping wet as Virgil, left her side to see Onyx. Their next words about the culprit weren’t ones Desiree would ever use, but she wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment behind them. It was time—more than time—to catch whoever had done this. But how could they search out a culprit in this weather? Flash flooding, monsoon rain and the heavy lightning endangered pursued and pursuers alike.
“Morg, get me a horse kit,” Virgil ordered. “Wyatt, start cleaning up the other horses.”
“What about Onyx?” Desiree asked.
“Morgan can help me sew him up.”
Morgan rested one hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Virg, this isn’t going to work.”
Virgil shook off the hand. “I’m going to give it a try.”
“Put him down.”
“You gonna help me or not?”
“No, Virgil, I can’t. I’m going to work on the other horses. I can help them.”
“Wyatt?”
“It’s not right, Virg. You can sew it up, but the moment he puts weight on it, it’ll tear apart again. Put Onyx down.”
“The hell I will!” Virgil continued to comfort the horse, his hands soothing. “I’ll sew it up myself if I have to.”
“Desiree, if you’d take that dead kitten on your way out...” Wyatt suggested.
“I thought I’d stay and give Virgil a hand.”
“You aren’t going back to the house?” Morgan asked. “You aren’t going to do Onyx—or Virgi!—any good.”
Desiree bit her lip, her gaze on the horse, her heart with the owner. The others were in good hands. Oscar had been treated. The humans were safe. She reached for the first aid kit Morgan had retrieved. “If you think there’s a chance, Virgil, I’ll help.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Wyatt said sharply. “Put the animal down and be done with it.”
“It’s his horse, not yours,” Desiree retorted. “If he thinks there’s a chance, then maybe there is.”
“Ray, don’t,” Morgan argued. “It’s useless.”
“I make my own decisions. Have one of the hands dispose of the kitten. I’m with Virgil.”
She deliberately took off her gun, hung it on a peg and stepped into the stall with Onyx and his owner. She passed him the horse kit. “Where do you want me, Virg?” For the first time ever, she used the familiar form of his name, the form only close family were allowed to use. It felt right just then.
She missed the look Wyatt and Morgan gave each other, but she didn’t miss the one from Virgil. Gratitude—and something more—came straight from his heart.
I’m going to check out that something more...once I get my life in order, she vowed. When I find who did all this.
“Stand at his head. I’m going to have to tie his rear leg up in a forced-shod position,” Virgil said. “After that, you handle the twitch,” he said, referring to the nose clamp that was used to control a difficult horse much as a nose ring was used to control an unruly bull. “You know how?”
“I know how.” But I’ve never used it on a horse having surgery. Shots and worming, yes. Not this.
Minutes later Onyx was trussed up, and Virgil began cleaning the wound.
“That’s gotta hurt,” Desiree said, shivering in sympathy. “Won’t he shy away from the pain when you start with the sutures?”
“Theoretically, the twitch prevents that by provoking a mild state of shock.”
“For shots, maybe, but...” Her voice trailed off.
“Onyx trusts me. That’s half the battle right there.”
Desiree watched Virgil, hoping against hope. She knew large ranches often administered most medicine and shots on the premises rather than calling a vet. Save for rabies inoculations, it was a legal, acceptable practice. Ranchers often sewed up major gashes, as well. But even the most practiced of equine vets wouldn’t attempt what Virgil was doing now. The problem was that after the torn portion of the tendon was rejoined, the weight of the horse would rip it open again. Full-grown horses rarely tolerated casts or splints. They were too large to balance on three legs like a dog.
Virgil looked competent enough pouring alcohol over his hands and threading a surgical needle, but sewing a torn tendon back together wasn’t exactly the same as suturing a simple cut.
“It wasn’t completely torn through,” Virgil said with a sigh of relief. “If we can keep him still, I might be able to patch him back together. Ready?”
“Ready.” Desiree quietly watched him work as she tugged a bit harder on the metal clamped around delicate nostril tissue. She didn’t want the horse moving at all, nor did she wish to disturb Virgil’s concentration. It wasn’t until he took a breather that she spoke.
“You’ve done this before,” she said as he reached for a gauze square to dab around the injury site. He had a confident presence that imparted calmness to the horse. And to her...
“Yeah, a few times. Rogelio taught me all he knew when I was a kid. I learned more on my own hanging out at the local vet’s.”
“You’re very good. You would have made an excellent vet.”
“Actually, I wanted to be a doctor.”
“You did?” Desiree was totally surprised. Caro had never told her that. She wondered if her sister even knew it.
“Yeah, I even had my own hero. El doctor santo.”
“The blessed doctor,” Desiree translated. “I’ve heard about him. Wasn’t he the Earps’ doctor and Old Tombstone’s coroner?”
“Yep. He set up private practice in Tombstone just a few months after the Earp brothers arrived.”
Desiree knew all that. A mining boom town with all its shootings and stabbings intrigued Dr. George Emery Goodfellow. He came to Tombstone because of the sheer volume of patients. They increased his skills as well as his bank account.
“Considering your name and all, I would’ve thought—”
Virgil continued with his swabbing. “Goodfellow was as respected as the Earps. Even the wounded outlaws insisted on him, he was that good.”
“I imagine he had a lo
t of business.”
“Oh, yeah. He was Tombstone’s best surgeon. He never asked names or questions, nor set a fee. Never had to.”
“And he was your hero.”
“It’s not so strange.” A sad smile played around Virgil’s lips as he worked on the tendon. “The man was not only a surgical genius, he was one hell of a researcher. He was determined to correct false medical information. He even let a Gila monster bite him to prove that the lizard’s poison couldn’t kill a man. He was right.”
“That’s carrying things a bit far.”
“No,” Virgil said firmly, bent over the hoof. “Goodfellow had the courage of his convictions. He was a pioneer in plastic surgery. He performed the first appendectomy in Arizona. He wrote up all his work, too. His gunshot-wound techniques for abdominal surgery are still used all over the world. All life was precious to him.”
“I don’t remember how he died.”
“From neuritis... slow, painful death. No one could prevent it. Sad, really, when he did so much for the medical profession. He was one hell of a man. A real humanitarian.”
“So are you, Virgil.”
He actually lifted his head from his work at that. “I don’t even come close to a man like Goodfellow.”
“Yes, you do! You put others first, just like he did. You took care of your brothers when your parents died. You took care of your son when your wife left you.”
Virgil turned back to his work. “That’s nothing. Family is family.”
“That’s everything.”
When he shrugged, she said, “You could always go back to school, you know.”
Virgil shook his head. “I thought about it...but Travis needs me. I guess Dr. Bodine wasn’t meant to be,” he said with the finality of a man who had accepted his lot in life. “But I learned enough to try to help Onyx here. That’s good enough for me.”
Desiree changed hands and continued her gentle tugging on the twitch. “How’s he doing?”
“So far, so good. When I get hold of the person who did this...”
“Amen to that,” Desiree said. “But first we have to find him.” And as soon as the rain stops, I will.
She's The Sheriff (Superromance Series No 787) Page 20