A Temporary Arrangement

by Roxanne Rustand

Now he could hear footsteps. The sound of someone stumbling. A liarsh curse.

  "Dammit all, watch where you're going!"

  "If you hadn't shot that guy, we wouldn't be runnin', you fool. You and your damn wolf hunt."

  "Hey—shut up. Look.'*

  The beam of their flashlight swung past him. Stopped. And zeroed in on Keifer's face with blinding intensity.

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  One of them uttered a vicious curse. "It's the guy's kid, dammit. I've seen them together in town."

  "What the hell is he doing out here?"

  "That doesn't matter. What matters is he saw us, you fool. He IDs us, and we're looking at jail time, plus Federal and state fines."

  The two men fell silent.

  Keifer's heartbeat thundered in his ears. They'd shot someone? Dad?

  Cold sweat trickled down his back. With the light in his eyes, he couldn't see what they looked like, but he knew he'd never forget the harsh rasp of their voices. Low, mean, careless.

  Stifling a cry, expecting the blast of a gun at any second, he twisted around and clawed at the underbrush, desperate to escape.

  He stumbled, fell again, rammed into the bristly needles of a pine. Then he found his footing and ran, dodging tree limbs and vines. Behind him he heard the sounds of pursuit—heavy footsteps gaining on him with every stride.

  Snapping branches.

  Swearing.

  He swallowed back a hysterical cry when something grabbed at his arms and steadied him. "Keifer! Oh, thank God. Are you okay?"

  "No! Run!" The words tumbled out on a wheezy breath. "Come on!" He jerked back, trying to pull free. "Men—someone's chasing me. Guns."

  Abby stiffened, then grabbed his hand. 'This way," she directed. "Hurry!"

  Somehow she found a path and they ran until Keifer's lungs were burning and each harsh breath clawed at his throat. He tripped and fell against her, and then she fell, too. They hit the damp earth in a tangle of legs and arms, both gasping for breath.

  "Come on," she whispered. "We've got to keep moving!"

  A high-powered flashlight snapped on. And once again, the blinding light made him flinch.

  "Not so fast." The voice was low, menacing, with a hint of satisfaction. "You two have gone as far as you're gonna go."

  ways next to his body—one hand on the barrel, one hand terribly close to the trigger. "You're farther than you oughta be, lady." He elbowed his companion and their eyes met.

  The guy with the flashlight shot a quick, nervous look toward Abby. "I dunno, Dean.

  "You tell me how you want to spend the next twenty years," Dean snarled. "Me? It ain't gonna be prison for me."

  He raised the rifle to his shoulder.

  Something rustled in the underbrush behind Abby and Keifer. A split second later, Belle burst out, snarling and barking. Her sights fixed on Dean, she circled him, snapping at his legs as he tried to kick at her and take aim.

  And then something else appeared out of the dense cover of trees behind them.

  "Lonny—look out!" The gun swung wildly as a figure plowed into Dean's back. The rifle fired, fell out of Dean's grasp.

  They heard an agonized scream, the keening wail rising about Belle's furious barking.

  "Go!" Abby gave Keifer a hard push and—thank the Lord—the boy had sense enough to run. She wavered, ready to follow him...

  The flashlight had fallen into the weeds, its beam directed skyward. In the dim apron of light on the ground, she saw the rifle. One of the men was writhing on the ground, doubled over and whimpering.

  A few feet away, nearly hidden in the shadows, the

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  other two were locked together. She heard a sharp thud as one took a hit to the chin. A blow to his belly sent the same guy staggering. Belle darted in and tried to bite an ankle.

  Abby hesitated, then lunged for the gun and quickly backed away with its barrel pointed at the two who were fighting. One of them took a blow to the jaw and fell backward.

  Growling, Belle stood guard a few feet away from him, her teeth bared.

  And then the only man standing slowly turned to look in her direction. Ethan.

  "Don't shoot me," he said wearily. "It's already been a hell of a night."

  Relief and joy rushed through her. "Keifer! It's all right!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "Keifer! Your dad's here!"

  She turned to Ethan. "I've got to go find him. He could get lost out there—" And then her gaze fell to the bloodied sleeve of Ethan's shirt. "Oh, no."

  "It's nothing. Do you have a phone?"

  "No...I lost it," she said, panicking. "I was running, trying to find Keifer.. .and somewhere—"

  "It's okay. I didn't even bother to bring mine, because half the time there's no reception out here. I can hold these two if you can go back and call 911."

  "But your arm—"

  "Just a graze. No big deal." He smiled wryly as he took the rifle from her and trained it on the two on the ground. "It could have been, if these two bozos had

  been better shots. Don't bother getting up," he added mildly, nudging the boot of the one he'd decked.

  Just then Keifer appeared and rushed toward his dad, pulling to a halt when he saw the bloody shirt.

  "It's okay, son. I'll be fine. Just stay back, all right?"

  Abby grabbed the flashlight and pointed the beam at the guy who'd hit the ground first. He'd crawled into an upright position on the ground, his arms still doubled over his midsection. His face was ashen. "We need to get help.. .but I ought to take a look at this one first."

  Ethan frowned. "Don't get too close. You, there, where are you hurt?"

  "M-my side."

  "Abby's a nurse. If you make a single move, if you so much as start to touch her, I swear I'll pull this trigger and I'll say it was self-defense. And just to keep things easy, your buddy will be next."

  The man's gaze turned sullen.

  "I'm not taking any chances on you thinking about a hostage situation. If that isn't clear, then you can just sit there and bleed to death. It doesn't matter to me either way. You are," Ethan added in a dead calm voice, "no better than pond slime to me."

  The man nodded and stayed still while Abby gently examined his side, then backed away. "No exit wound. This guy has quite a spare tire, and it looks like the bullet lodged in his fatty tissue. Could've nicked some bowel, but that's just a guess. We do need to get him to the ER."

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  Abby took Keifer with her and managed to find the trail leading back to the house. In twenty minutes, the yard was filled with the flashing lights of two patrol cars and an ambulance.

  The EMTs loaded Lonny Buford into the ambulance. Dean Rowley spewed curses and threats as he recounted his injuries at Ethan's hands, but he was cuffed and shoved into the back seat of a cruiser.

  Ethan refused to ride in the ambulance, so Abby called ahead and then dropped Keifer at Erin's house for the night. She took Ethan to the ER herself.

  Marcia Larson, one of the nurses on duty, came in to clean the wound and take his vitals. "Sounds like you had an exciting night," she said. "Dr. Edwards is on duty tonight, but she's in with one of those other fellows right now. What did you all do, square off at the OK Corral?"

  Ethan grinned back at her. "Not exactly."

  "One of them shot at Ethan, probably afraid he'd be able to identify them. They've been trying to kill the wolves that have a den near the lake. Then one of them accidentally shot his buddy in the midst of a fight."

  "Sheesh!"

  Ethan shook his head in disgust. "I expect they were afraid of facing federal and state penalties for poaching."

  "So they escalated to attempted murder T Marcia shuddered. "Of course, I wouldn't put anything past those boys. Just look at where they come from... trouble as far back as anyone remembers."

  From down the hall came the sound of raised

  voices. Someone crying out. The screech of furniture
being shoved across the floor.

  Sheriff Johnson's voice rose above the melee and in a moment all was silent.

  "Oh, God, did that boy die?" Abby whispered.

  Marcia snorted. "No. All the relatives showed up, for both of them. Lonny's dad is a mean one. Dean's arguing with his father and his auntie Gwen, who's none too pleased."

  Abby blinked. "Gwen?"

  "Her maiden name was Rowley. She and her brother used to run field trial dogs together when they were younger, then they started some sort of boarding and dog breeding business. I heard it turned into a regular puppy mill before it was shut down last year. An awful place. Her brother ran the place, though. Not her."

  Abby's thoughts raced back to Gwen's interest in Belle, and her mention of all the dogs she'd owned. And then to the problems Abby had experienced here at the hospital.

  Ethan and Abby's eyes met. "You went out to Rowley's place last weekend," she said, lowering her voice. "Do you suppose all of this...."

  "He and I go back a lot further than that, but he's not the only one I ever denied reparation."

  "Did he lose cattle?"

  "A couple of bear hounds he'd been training. Claimed they were worth three grand apiece." Ethan shook his head. "There were warnings in the paper that summer, week after week, telling people to avoid

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  running their dogs within certain wolf territories. If he went ahead anyway, he was a fool. He never came up with documentation to prove those dogs even existed. . .and three grand is a might pricey for that kind of dog, anyway."

  Heavy footsteps stopped outside the door. "You weren't happy enough, seeing me go under? Now, you've gotta go after my boy and his friends?"

  Marcia shot a nervous glance at Abby. "This is Burt Rowley."

  Abby stood and turned toward the door, and the blood drained from her face. The man standing there was the one who'd given her a warning during the Fourth of July street dance. The image still had the power to make her stomach pitch.

  Now her revulsion turned to anger. "Those 'boys' shot this man and left him to die, which I'd call attempted murder. Your son held the gun that discharged and hit the Buford boy, not Ethan. And he threatened to shoot me and a ten-year-old child. You'd better have a good lawyer, because that son of yours should be sent away for a long, long time."

  "You don't know what the hell you're talking about," the man snarled. His gaze darted back to Ethan. "You've had it in for me, and I can prove it. So don't think—"

  Sheriff Johnson appeared in the doorway. "We can discuss this later," he said. "I think it's time for you to go."

  As the sheriff escorted him down the hall, Marcia

  heaved a sigh of relief. "Wow. This is almost like a big-city ER tonight—gunshot wounds, threats— what's this place coming to?" She patted Ethan on the shoulder. "I'll go down the hall and see what's keeping Dr. Edwards. I'm sure you look forward to being on your way."

  Still feeling shell-shocked, Abby hovered at the coffeemaker for a moment before turning to the refrigerator and pulling out an ice cold Coke.

  "I can't believe this night is over," s he murmured, holding the frosty can to her cheek. "It started out just fine, and then...disaster." Outside, thunder rumbled through the sky and the wind picked up. "And now we're even getting the storm Keifer was so worried about. Or at least, that's what he claimed at the time. Now I know he was worrying the prowlers might go after you."

  On the way to Erin's house, Keifer had tearfully told them about the man he'd seen lurking around the barns on Saturday night, and was sure it was the same man who'd pointed the rifle at him tonight.

  Ethan tossed his keys on the counter. "Keifer kept telling me he wanted some adventure this summer. I'm just sorry he ended up with one like this."

  "Believe me, once this settles down, he's going to have exciting tales to tell his buddies back home." Abby smiled, wishing she could lighten Ethan's dark mood. "After he's told the story a few times, they'll hear we fended off a battalion of villains armed with Uzis."

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  "Maybe so." A corner of Ethan's mouth lifted, though no humor reached his eyes. "But I'm not so sure his mother is going to be impressed."

  "Crazy things can happen anywhere. None of this was your fault."

  At the hospital Ethan's bloodied shirt had been stowed in a plastic bag, and Marcia had given him a dark green hospital top to wear home. The short sleeves revealed the stark white bandaging on his upper arm. What would have happened if Dean's aim had been just a few inches off?

  Abby tried to mask her emotions with a teasing smile. "You know, you're really going to have to take better care of yourself after your private nurse leaves town. Stay away from farm equipment, guns— maybe you should get a quiet office job."

  "You were amazing tonight, Abby. The way you protected Keifer and stood up to Rowley."

  "Hey, I'm turning into a tough broad in my old age." After so nearly losing him, she wanted to step into his arms and feel his solid warmth, and the reassuring, steady beat of his heart.

  "How's the arm?"

  "It's fine. Abby, I—" He broke off. Closed his eyes. "I guess I'd better turn in. Tomorrow's already here, and I'll need to pick up Keifer first thing in the morning. He'll still be upset over all of this, I'm sure."

  Ethan hesitated. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but he only turned and walked away.

  After a few sleepless hours, Abby gave up and went out onto the porch, where she settled on the big old swing and curled her legs beneath her.

  The night air was soft and warm, with just the buzz of cicadas and chirping of crickets to keep her company. Peace stole over her as she reached out a toe to set the swing in motion and then curled into the pillows again.

  The terrifying evening seemed like an impossible nightmare.. .unbelievable, in contrast to the security she now felt.

  The kitchen door creaked and Ethan stepped outside dressed in a pair of jogging shorts. He braced his palms on the porch railing and looked up at the stars. "Beautiful night."

  "Strange, isn't it? After what we've all been through?" She allowed herself the luxury of taking in the long, lean lines of his well-muscled back, the heavier muscling of his shoulders and the indentation of his spine. The white gauze and tape on his upper arm, which covered just a minor wound, thank God. "You, know, Im not sure I'd recognize you if you weren't wearing bandages."

  He chuckled as he rested a hip on the railing.

  She smiled up at him. "So you can't sleep, either?"

  "Adrenaline overload, I guess. I keep seeing images of you and my son in front of that bastard with a gun. And quite frankly, I still have the urge to hunt him down and make sure he never sees daylight again."

  Abby shuddered in agreement. "The sad thing is,

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  those young men are now facing a long list of charges. Yet their dads were the main reason this all started, and won't face any charges at all."

  "And probably won't feel any guilt about it, either."

  Right after she and Ethan had left the hospital, apparently Burt Rowley and his son had ended up in a shoving match that took the sheriff and his deputy ten minutes to settle.

  Burt ended up in jail in the cell next to his son's, charged with assault, disorderly conduct and public intoxication. His continuing argument with his son at the jail revealed a lot more than he might have if he'd been sober.

  "I still can't believe it," Abby murmured. "He thought he could lie about wolves killing his dogs so he could get rich on the state reparations?"

  "Not rich—but make enough to settle his debts and bring his kennel back up to code. He'd lost too much gambling at the casinos and let a lot of things slide. I remember reading in the paper about the terrible conditions in that kennel. When the state was called in for an inspection, they found dogs starving, and a lot of them were dead. Later, there were rumors that Burt abandoned the others to just run loose and d
ie." He shook his head. "But even if he was in financial trouble, I still couldn't have verified a false claim."

  "And all this time he blamed you because he went bankrupt, and he told everyone about the lousy DNR guy who cheated him."

  Belle, who'd been curled up on a blanket at the

  end of the porch, came over to the swing, her nails clicking on the wood-plank flooring. She rested her head on Abby's lap.

  Dean Rowley had admitted his dad had put him up to vandalizing Ethan's place a number of times—including tampering with the auger that broke and sent Ethan to the hospital. He'd been responsible for Belle's disappearance, as well, because the fact that one of his dogs lived with an "enemy" had stuck in Burt's craw.

  "Poor Belle, at least we know where you came from. No wonder you didn't like that nasty guy earlier tonight. Bad memories, right?"

  Her tail wagged slowly.

  Ethan watched them, his back to the moonlit landscape, his face cast in shadow so she couldn't quite make out his expression. "Penny for your thoughts?"

  "I'm just sorry you got mixed up in all of this," he said.

  "But Keifer's safe, and we're okay. I'd say we're pretty lucky." She patted the cushions. "Sit. Since neither of us can sleep, we can at least try to relax."

  He hesitated before dropping next to her onto the seat. After a moment he put his arm around her and pulled her closer, and she nestled into his warmth.

  He smelled of soap, toothpaste and a faint woodsy aftershave. And the solid breadth of his chest made her feel more safe and secure than she'd felt in a long time.

  "This is just about perfect," she murmured, staring out at the silvery moonlit forest.

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  He brushed a kiss against her hair. "Absolutely perfect...and I don't think I ever really appreciated it, until now."

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  "How's his wound?"

  "Superficial, so he'll be fine. Though after what he and his buddy did, I'm not sure he deserves such good luck. Keifer had quite a story to tell us about what happened last night."