Pursue Page 2

  There was nothing more to say, no way of putting off what had to be done. She’d never seriously wanted to go in search of her spirit guide, had only participated in a handful of ceremonies because that’s what her grandfather wanted, but this afternoon she’d have given anything to have something she could depend on.

  The whinny repeated, no stronger than it had been the first time. As tears threatened, Niko dismounted and ground-tied Misty. Even though she wasn’t sure Chinook would obey, she pointed at the ground and told her to stay.

  She could only hope the grays wouldn’t startle Misty so much he’d bolt. After assuring herself that her knife was still at her waist, she pushed through the ferns and bushes until she reached the barely trickling creek. She felt the grays’ gazes along her spine but didn’t check behind her. Neither did she question what she was doing. She had no choice. This thing was bigger than her.

  The slope right ahead of her was steep but short, making it necessary for her to watch every step while holding on to bushes to keep from falling. She was questioning her decision to try to leave her dog behind but was afraid Chinook’s presence would frighten the unseen horse. Another whinny, sounding defeated, kept her going. The thick vegetation was confined to the immediate area around the campsite. She was moving into more open territory, fortunately with a gentler slope.

  She stopped and shielded her eyes. There were still plenty of Douglas firs and a handful of alders, but for the most part the thick ferns and prickly bushes had given way to ground cover. She wondered if those who came to the campsite bothered to travel this far or believed they were surrounded by rainforest and didn’t venture beyond the so-called improvements. She entertained the fantasy that she’d stepped into virgin territory, a place no other human had ever seen. However, for all she knew, she wasn’t far from the farmland that dominated much of the county.

  Yet another whinny. Worn out and thin.

  “I’m coming. Call out again. Let me know where you are.”

  Less than five minutes later, Niko found what she’d been looking for without knowing it. The Douglas firs and alders were still present, albeit even fewer in number, the ground nearly level with sunlight reaching the earth and the wind whispering.

  A small, emaciated roan mare stood at the end of a rope attached to her halter. The other end was tangled around a bush. Her head was down, her legs widespread. Niko saw every rib, the scraggly mane, the weed-tangled tail. The mare was so done in Niko expected her to collapse at any moment. If she did, that would be the end of her unless Niko could get her up again, which would take a superhuman effort.

  “Oh, baby, what are you doing here?”

  On the verge of tears, she slowly approached the poor animal. The mare’s mouth was open, her lower lip hanging. Her hooves were overgrown and ragged but that wasn’t what concerned Niko the most. The mare’s eyes were glazed over as if she’d given up. Niko had to force herself to run her fingers over the bony flank. The mare barely reacted.

  “Who did this to you? What are you doing here?”

  Fighting revulsion, she forced herself to continue to examine the trapped animal. Frayed as the end of the rope was, she wondered if the mare had broken free of an earlier tether. As for what she was doing in the wilderness—it made no sense unless they were closer to civilization than she realized. That was possible. After all, there were any number of small farms and ranches tucked into the valleys. None were what she’d call prosperous, mostly people trying to support themselves by raising crops or keeping livestock.

  “There’s hardly any grass here,” Niko pointed out, even though the mare must’ve known that. “Did something frighten you? You panicked and…”

  Second-guessing the mare’s actions wasn’t getting her anywhere. As depleted as the creature was, it would have been a simple matter for the grays or wolf-dog to kill this sad source of protein. Instead the grays had directed Niko here—why? Because they hoped she could accomplish what they couldn’t?

  They saw her as the mare’s rescuer?

  First things first. Nothing was going to happen as long as the mare was anchored to the spot. Anger fought with compassion as she pulled out her knife and sawed through the rope where it was wrapped around a bush. At first the mare didn’t react. Then she slowly lifted her head and whinnied.

  “You’re welcome. Feels good, doesn’t—?”

  A second whinny, a squeal almost not far away silenced her. She’d heard that sound before—from foals.

  “My god.” She crouched so she could see between the mare’s hind legs. A slightly swollen bag dangled. “You’ve given birth.”

  As the mare turned in the direction the new sound had come from, Niko debated severing what was left of the rope to lessen the risk of the mare tripping on it, but she might need it to lead the animal away from here. However, that wasn’t what mattered right now.

  “Speak to me,” she implored the hidden foal. “Where are you, little one?”

  She didn’t need to have asked, since the mare’s uneven movements made it clear she had a goal. The new mother slowly stepped over downed branches and rocks as if she knew not to trust her strength. Much as she wanted to assure the mare that she was here to help, Niko tried to make herself as unobtrusive as possible so not to distract her new charge.

  Here the ground reminded Niko of gentle ocean waves. At least there weren’t any steep slopes which might be more than the mare in her weakened state could handle. The grays might have followed her. She should’ve looked, to be sure, but she didn’t want to take her attention off the mare, who was continuing her single-minded journey. Deer often left their fawns in order to search for food, but that didn’t explain why the mare had, in essence, abandoned her child.

  It didn’t matter. She was returning to him or her now.

  When the mare whinnied again, Niko strained to hear a response, but there was none. Weak as the one sound had been, it was possible the foal had died.

  No! She wouldn’t let herself believe that.

  Chapter Two

  The foal, almost identical in color to its mother but startlingly small, was lying on its side with its head downhill and one bony front leg trapped under it. The hooves looked unfinished, leading Niko to conclude it might have been premature. No wonder it lacked the strength to stand.

  His feet, Niko amended as she knelt beside the fragile creature. The mare had given birth to a colt. And judging by the dried afterbirth near the small body, this was where the birth had taken place.

  She wasn’t a crier. In fact she couldn’t remember the last time she’d shed tears, but they clouded her vision as she knelt and flattened her hands over the small chest. Thank goodness the colt was breathing. She felt the heartbeat and acknowledged the mare only a few feet away. Instead of trying to encourage her offspring to stand, the mare balanced her scrawny weight on wide-spread legs. Her head drooped.

  “Giving birth nearly killed you.” Niko slid her hands under the small body and eased the colt around so its head was slightly higher than the rest of the body. Hopefully the change in position would make it easier for the newborn to breathe. “You’re too depleted for a pregnancy. What idiot let this happen?”

  A thought started to form, but she didn’t try to hold on to it. Only fighting to save two lives mattered.

  “Can you stand?” she asked the little guy. “If I help you, do you think you can support your weight?”

  The colt’s eyes had been closed. When they opened and she saw how long and dark the lashes were, her vow to do everything she could to keep him alive became stronger. She’d believed she was in the wilderness because she needed a day far from the walls of the school that employed her, but it had turned out to be more than that. Maybe something preordained.

  No. She didn’t believe in destiny. She wasn’t even sure she believed in the spirits that formed the basis of her grandfather’s life.

  She started by aiming the colt’s head toward his mother so hopefully the sight, smell and sound of
the mare would give him a reason to try to stand, but he didn’t. When she let go of his head, it flopped back down. Whether he’d been born today or yesterday mattered since the longer he went without colostrum and milk, the lower his chance of survival became.

  “I have to get you out of here. Both of you. Somehow.”

  She supposed she could look for wherever the mare had come from and ask the owner for help, but the more she thought about them, the angrier she became. No way would she place mother and son’s lives in that person’s hands.

  A sobering, almost frightening memory threatened to break free. It had to do with the recent past, a similar situation, guilt and fanged justice. But remembering the details of what had happened would have to wait, because the colt and mare might only have hours to live. She pulled out her cell phone and tried to place a call to her grandfather, because he had a horse trailer, but she was in a no service area.

  Think. Plan. What are your options?

  Not many, she acknowledged as she stood, leaned over, and struggled to lift the colt onto his toothpick legs. His head was at half-mast, same as his dam’s, and when she stopped supporting him, he collapsed. She eased him back down.

  “I can’t carry you, but Misty can. I just need to get him here. That’s it.” She stroked the long, soft ears. “A plan, little one. Hold on, please. I’ll make this happen.” Somehow.

  * * * *

  When she reached the horses again, Misty and Chinook were with her. If the grays were still at the campground, they were where she couldn’t see them. Maybe they considered their job done. Neither mare nor foal had moved. Thank god they were both still alive. She hoisted the baby to his feet, carried him over to his mother and positioned his head under her belly. To her relief the mare didn’t move away. Despite the strain of trying to hold the colt up, she managed to push a little milk out of the teat and rub it over the colt’s muzzle. After several false starts, the foal latched on to the teat. Niko’s legs and arms trembled as she kept the little one in place while awkwardly stroking its throat. The swallowing sensations brought more tears to her eyes. Then the mare shifted her weight, breaking the connection. Niko tried to bring the colt close again, only to have the mare kick at her belly.

  “Sensitive, are you? Maybe that’s all the milk you have in you.”

  She’d positioned her horse so his left side was uphill from the right. Just the same, she was nearly done in by the time she’d lifted the colt onto Misty so the little one straddled the larger horse. She had to keep her hand on the colt to prevent him from sliding off. Misty didn’t approve of what he was being asked to do, which meant Niko didn’t dare let go of the reins.

  When she started guiding Misty back to the campground, the mare simply watched. Niko was afraid she’d have to come back for the mare, but maybe mother instinct had finally kicked in because she started plodding after them.

  Niko had covered most of the way back to the campground when the mare cut loose with a long, low whinny and pushed past Misty and her son. Soon she was out of sight. Hopefully the rope wouldn’t trip her. Where had the mare’s energy come from, when just moments before she’d looked utterly played out? Surely she wasn’t interested in connecting with the grays.

  Where were they?

  The sight of the campground, which had made Niko feel claustrophobic before, now filled her with relief. Who cared that the tables might be decades old and the outhouse full? Those things served as proof that other human beings had been here. She guided Misty onto the road and pushed the colt higher. The mare was just in sight, with her front legs bent so she could drink from the creek. She swallowed and swallowed, trembling as she did.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? You smelled water. You poor thing.”

  Where the hell was the bastard who called him or herself the mare’s owner? Whoever he was, he deserved—what?

  What the grays had done to elk poachers a few months ago?

  That’s what her mind had been dancing around. Because of what had happened to Kendall Taft, Grover Brown and Ram, she knew the grays and the word ‘vengeance’ went hand in hand. The grays had killed Grover and Ram and had mutilated the teenager. Maybe that’s all she’d have to do, point out the damned so-called owners and let the dogs do what they were so terribly good at.

  Was that her role? Could she condemn humans to death or disability?

  Answering the question was for another time. Right now, only keeping mare and colt alive mattered.

  To her relief, this time she was able to connect with her grandfather’s cell phone. Unfortunately, he didn’t answer. Instead of leaving a message, she hung up. The mare had finished drinking and muddy water dribbled from her mouth. She didn’t look any stronger. The colt’s head hung.

  “Mia,” she said almost before her friend finished saying hello, “how soon can you get one of your trucks to Dogwood Campground?”

  “My truck? What do you want it for?”

  As she explained what was happening, Niko tried to imagine what Mia was doing. Mia owned a Christmas tree farm off Highway 101, the main road that ran along the Oregon coast. Since it was early fall, Mia spent much of her time shaping the trees in preparation for sale. Mia had been a one-woman operation until Fish and Wildlife officer Jeff Julian had entered her life. Hopefully Mia had been able to put the reason behind that meeting into perspective and was focusing on their romance. However, Niko wouldn’t be surprised if Mia had nightmares about the day she’d been forced to kill a wounded cow elk.

  “It won’t work,” Mia said.

  “What won’t? Why not?”

  “You know how big my trucks are. Even if I could get one on that excuse for a road and the mare loaded into the bed, I’ll never be able turn it around.”

  Mia was right. She should have thought that through.

  “I have it,” Mia said. “Fish and Game has a small horse trailer. Jeff or maybe Darick should be able to get it up there, disconnect the trailer so they can turn the truck around and—”

  “Can you reach Jeff? Mia, I don’t know how much time this little guy has.”

  “Jeff and not Darick?”

  Jeff was easy to talk to, her best friend’s boyfriend, while Darick Creech was another story—a rather complicated one.

  “You know why I’d rather not involve him. Do it, please.”

  “Of course. And while you’re waiting, I’d love a picture of your rescues.”

  ‘Rescues’ was the right word. At least it would be if she managed to get mother and son to a vet before it was too late.

  Because she was concerned that leaving the colt positioned like he was would put too much pressure on his internal organs, she eased the little guy off Misty’s back. Then she carried him over to the side of the road and stretched him out on some vines. His eyes were open and she made sure they showed as she used her cell phone to take several pictures. She did the same with the mare and sent the images to Mia.

  Time was moving too slowly. Maybe she should start back toward civilization. She could ride Misty, which should make keeping the colt in place easier. She’d hold on to the mare’s rope—if the mare had enough energy for the trip.

  She started when her phone rang.

  “They’re on their way,” Mia announced.

  “They?”

  “Jeff and Darick. I’d give anything to come with them, but I told them not to waste time picking me up. I just got the pictures. Who the hell let the mare get in that condition?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  “Yeah. Well…”

  As concerned as she’d been about her charges, she hadn’t told Mia about the role the grays had played. Now, as she did, she imagined her friend with her hand on her throat and her eyes big and knowing.

  “Shit. Ah shit,” Mia muttered. “It’s going to start again.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “The hell I don’t. You do too.”

  * * * *

  Gun couldn’t take his attention off
the broad-chested, mostly black dog with the woman. He sensed his sister’s disapproval at his interest but that didn’t matter as much as the messages he was getting from Lobo. Gun had never completely accepted the wolf-dog’s place in his world. Yes, Lobo kept them fed. He’d also fathered his sister’s nearly grown puppies and was teaching them how to hunt, but Lobo was another male.

  In contrast, the black-brown dog was female. Unfortunately, not in heat. His sister had no claim on Lobo. Lobo could and probably would try to mate with the newcomer, but Gun wouldn’t let that happen. The newcomer belonged to him. Or would if he had his way.

  A sharp sting on his shoulder had him whirling toward his sister. Smoke’s eyes were narrowed and she’d exposed her fangs.

  “Mating isn’t what we’re here for,” she insisted.

  With an effort, he remained silent. Lobo hadn’t shown himself to the female human, but he was nearby and doubtlessly willing to do whatever his mate ordered him to. Gun didn’t want to fight Lobo today, not with the Force’s commands that resided within him echoing his sister’s reminder. The Force had been silent lately, which had made it possible for them to concentrate on the puppies, but the voice was back, commanding.

  “She wasn’t afraid.” Gun indicated the human. “At least she wasn’t so scared she didn’t understand what we needed her to do.”

  “We may need more from her,” Smoke replied. “She might be the only way we will learn what we need to. What the Force can’t tell us.”

  Gun wasn’t sure what further assistance the human might provide, but didn’t want to argue the point. The Force had directed them to the dying mare and her too-weak-to-stand foal. From the moment he’d seen the two helpless animals, rage had threatened to rob him of caution. Then the Force had again controlled his and his sister’s movements. Otherwise, they would have never approached the human or make sure she found the mare and colt.

  The Force. The reason he was alive and why he and Smoke did what they did.