Wanted: Sharpshooter
Page 7
CHAPTER 7
My insides froze even though this time I knew instantly what made that eerie sound. I shouldn't be terrified. But I was.
Max held the shotgun as if it was an extension of him, and I had no idea how it had gotten in his hand. It hadn't been there moments before. “He’s still nearby.”
"Damn." I don't swear much but that one word said it all. Frustration. Anger. Fear.
Max's body was tense, a spring ready to be let loose but his next words told me his mind was working just fine, calm and rational. "Carlos is right, there's something different about this particular cougar. Don't know what, but I do know that big cats roam over a large area and tend not to stay long in any one place." We waited with breath bated for another cry. It didn’t come and he relaxed somewhat. Max's body was still tense but his head moved back and forth like clockwork, watching. “Could be that he’s just making his presence known before leaving. Like saying goodbye.”
“If you're trying to comfort me, it's not working.”
“Maybe if he realizes he can't get the horses he'll move on. No reason to stay if he can't get at them. Maybe he's just letting the world know how frustrated he is before he goes somewhere else."
"I'm still not comforted."
"Hey, don't sweat it, if he doesn't leave tonight, I'll shoot him tomorrow. And, just in case you're still concerned, here's a thought to make you feel better." He hunkered down beside me. "If that cat had been serious about killing a horse when you were on the trail earlier today, you'd be missing a horse now. So it wasn't serious then and might not be serious now."
I wrapped my arms around my middle to still the turmoil inside as I tried to think what his words meant. "What about tomorrow? Will it be safe to ride? Do the horses have to stay inside?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
"Or the cougar will kill one of them?"
"You have to go on the assumption that it'll take down any horse it can get at."
"How long before they can be outside again?"
"As long as it takes. When we haven't heard it for a few days or found any sign in the forest around the stable, then maybe they can go outside. No trail rides, but they can exercise in the fenced area for a while. But no going beyond the cleared area around Green Forest Stable."
I turned that over in my mind. "The horses need exercise. I normally take two at a time, riding one and leading another. We go for miles along the forest trails, some days we put in twenty miles. Then I return and take another pair out, then another and another until I've exercised them all."
"Not tomorrow you don't."
"Trail riding is essential. It's what most of the horses are here for. Green Forest Stables specializes in distance training. Hours of forest riding are an important part of that training."
“If the cougar is waiting in a tree on one of those trails when you come along, there won't be any warning. It'll take down the last animal, the one you'll be leading. You won't know anything until it's too late." He examined me. "I'd guess a dead horse isn't good for business.”
I rocked back and forth, wishing my courses in equine studies had prepared me for cougars. But they hadn't. "Can you find it? Kill it? Or chase it away?" Yesterday I hadn't known Maxwell Abrams existed, now he was the single most important person in my life.
He leaned against the wall and stuck long legs in front of him. His jeans were worn, comfortable and well-fitting. I couldn't see them clearly in the dark but I remembered from earlier, as I remembered the planes of his face and the solid, no-nonsense set of his shoulders. That he was former military and was precisely what we needed now. That his shirt was faded blue. And his boots were new.
Purchased yesterday just for this job? Unable to make them out in the dark, I examined them in memory. Not fancy cowboy boots, he'd instead chosen sturdy, brown, unadorned work boots, the kind someone would purchase who had no need to brag. Max Abrams, former Army Ranger, was the real deal and I was once again glad to have him on my side. Glad he'd come along just when he was needed. Glad I'd managed not to chase him away.
He'd only worked for the stable one day and was already our main weapon against a dangerous cougar. It suddenly occurred to me that I knew nothing about this weapon. I should know this man who overnight became so important to Green Forest Stables. Surely, doing so was a proper boss-like thing to do.
So I started a conversation. "Carlos said you were local. But he said 'sort of' local. I grew up here but I don't believe we've met."
"Kind of late for an interview, isn't it?"
"Just curious. How can someone be sort of local? Either you are or you aren't."
"I spent my summers here when I was a kid. With my aunt and uncle. They owned the lumber yard."
A memory surfaced. "You're the kid who swept the floor." When my dad and I bought lumber for the fence for my first horse, I'd seen him. Same set of the jaw and sweep of long legs, but in a younger, unfinished person.
"That would have been me."
"I always wondered who you were."
"I took off as soon as I finished high school."
"You joined the Army."
"I thought I was made for it. I thought I'd spend the rest of my career in the Rangers. Then one morning I woke up and for no reason I've ever figured out, I decided I wanted to make my own decisions instead of having someone else make them for me. So I didn't re-up and then I came here and started looking for a job. The rest is history."
"Why here?"
"I like the woods, always did. When I was a kid, I couldn't wait for school to end so I could come here. You've got to admit, the forest is great when cougars aren't scaring the hell of out everyone. I came here to figure out what to do with the rest of my life."
"You don't plan on staying?"
He shrugged, the rise and fall of his shoulders barely visible in the coming dawn. I could see the movement. Moments earlier, I couldn't have, which meant day was approaching. "Don't know."
"I'm glad you're here." Honesty made me add, "Very glad. In fact, I don't know what we'd do without you."
Another shrug. The danger beyond the fence didn't mean the same to him that it did to me. It was just another day's work to a former Army Ranger. "If I wasn't around, you'd call the Game Warden."
"It's summer. Tourist time. The Warden is so busy he'd get around to us in a month or so."
"Then I'll just have to take care of any puma that comes around myself."