Hunted Love Box Set: Big Game, Bounty, Captured (2 page)

Two weeks before a highly anticipated sixty-day leave, the word had come down through Jakob Barger's chain of command. Due to the nature of his mission, the only reason he'd been notified at all was because his Uncle Frank was listed as his next of kin. Fortunately, he was already wrapping things up, so Command had allowed a compassionate leave immediately so he could attend his uncle's funeral.

When Kate Holt's call came in, he'd been sitting there, trying to figure out what the hell to do with the old man's horses and dogs. The rest could wait, but the animals had to be settled before he had to head back to the sand box. Unless, of course, he decided not to go back.

Too damn many options for a soldier who rarely slept more than two hours at a stretch. Miss Holt's call offered the perfect opportunity to get out into the wilderness and get his head straight. A few days or a week with no one but his dogs and horses would be a welcome break from all the pressures of the decisions he needed to make.

When he returned her call, he intended to offer to do the hunt himself, and if she refused, that would be that. He'd find a different way to deal. 

An hour passed without a reply from her. The hell with it. He'd just load up and hit the road. She could hardly turn away a free hunter sitting in her driveway. Not with a lion eating her horses.

***

Her feet knew every particle of dust along the trail to the main barn, so Kate didn’t bother with a flashlight. As she approached, the yearlings stood impatiently at the gate, waiting for their goodnight scratches. With every muzzle patted, she continued into the barn and worked her way down the aisle, stopping at each stall to check on the occupants. Most of the horses stood watching eagerly for her, and she quickly visited all twelve stalls on that side of the barn.

On the other side of the barn, the stalls were occupied with project horses, including the blood bay who hated her. Most of them belonged to other people, just visiting her for training, but even they had come to anticipate her evening visits. The blood bay eyed her suspiciously as Kate made her way up the aisle toward him. Finally, she told his neighbor goodnight and moved toward him.

The blood bay followed his usual pattern and retreated to the far side of his stall when she stopped at his door. Kate leaned there for a minute. “You know, one of these days, you’re going to get over this silliness. I’m going to come down here one night, and you’ll stand instead of running to the far corner.”

The horse flicked his ears and made no further reply, just glared silently.

Kate sighed and left his treat on the top rail of his stall door, then moved to the next horse. From the corner of her eye, she watched the bay stretch and gingerly lip the treat up. That was real progress. When she first started, he always left them.

With all the horses tucked in for the night, she went back up to the house. Before her dad died, he always met her on the back porch to sit and discuss the day’s work, and make plans for the following day. Now, crossing that porch without stopping to talk with him was painful. In the eight months since his death, the back porch was a constant reminder of her loss.

Chaser’s death brought a fresh wave of grief to pull her under the black waters of depression again. Her dad had loved that horse, almost more than life. The big Paint was the only surviving foal of her mother’s mare, and training Chaser and working with him seemed to make her dad feel closer to his beloved wife after her death.

The decision to turn him free to roam about the ranch at will had been a hard one. A serious leg injury had ended the horse’s impressive competition career. Without his work, the big animal turned aggressive and hard to handle, dangerous to anyone who came near. After one of the hands was severely injured just moving Chaser to another paddock, it seemed the horse would have to be put down. He’d become too big of a threat to be handled.

Kate had come up with the idea to just turn him loose. They already had several small herds of brood mares ranging wild over the several thousand acres of land they owned, and even on the leased government range land. Each herd had its own stallion to breed the mares, and every fall, the hands went out and caught the mares up, administered vaccinations and parasite control, culled out any unfit to continue living wild, and separated the weanling aged foals out. Over the coming winter, the foals would begin to become acquainted with humans.

That year, when a herd came in without a stallion, Chaser was allowed to take over the harem. It had been the perfect solution, and it was the first time her father took Kate seriously on anything related to the ranch operations. Afterward, she became less Daddy’s Little Angel and more his protégé, in serious training with the full expectation she would take over running the ranch when the time arrived. And so she had.

Chaser’s death seemed like the end of an era. Even though she had taken over operating the ranch for the most part a few years ago, her father had always been there for backup. When he died, of course that changed and she had no one to fall back on. But as long as Chaser roamed, she had a connection with him, no matter how tenuous. Now it was gone, and she was truly on her own.

She sighed, and forced herself to open the porch door. The momma hound pushed her way past Kate’s legs, anxious to get back her pups after going out to stretch her legs and relieve herself while Kate tucked the horses in. Hearing their mother, the pups set up a cacophony of baby howls, forcing a smile to Kate’s lips. Very soon they would be ready to learn to be ranch dogs.

And Kate would continue her lonely existence, with only horses and dogs and gossipy neighbors for company. The prospect hadn’t seemed so bleak even just a few hours ago. Now the future stretched before her in an endless black hole. She wouldn’t have a husband and children, of course. No man wanted a disfigured woman, especially one who couldn’t have babies.

One of the pups squalled in fear, having wondered too far from the blanket to find his way back to the dinner table. Momma dog huffed, but didn’t move from where she was already nursing her other five pups. The pup squalled louder and Kate took pity on him and scooped him up by his scruff and deposited him where he could find his mother again. Whimpering, the pup crawled the two feet and settled in contentedly to nurse with his siblings.

Kate sighed, pushed the depression away forcefully, and continued on into the house. The answering machine on the utility counter flashed a new message. She almost walked on by and left it, but guilt dictated she check.

“Uh, Miss Holt? Jakob Barger here. You asked about my uncle Frank hunting a lion for you. Frank won’t be able to, but if it’s okay with you, I can come track it down for you. Give me a call back as soon as possible. If I leave tonight, I can be at your place in the morning and get started.”

That was it. And of course she had no choice if she wanted to stop that mountain lion from eating her horses. Her hand shook slightly as she hit the caller ID and returned his call. At least one advantage for the modern phone. The thought made her smile and she was a bit unprepared with Jakob Barger answered.

“Miss Holt?”

“Uh, yes. You’re willing to come track the lion down?”

“I am. In fact, I already have my dogs loaded and my horses caught up.”

“Good. We’ll see you in the morning then?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Great, I’m…” she trailed off. Dead air. The bastard had hung up already, not bothering with directions, or to negotiate price. What if he got here and she wasn’t willing to pay his price? Guess he’d have a drive back for nothing then.

Jakob double checked the latches on the truck kennels and shoved the tote into the tight gap between the kennels. The large tote was filled with vacuum sealed packets of dried meat, intended to provide the dogs with protein during the hunt. A second tote filled with chunks of rendered fat, also vacuum sealed, would help with the massive numbers of calories the dogs would burn. Uncle Frank was old school with his dogs, insisting on feeding them as close as possible to what they would eat in the wild. And on the trail, the dogs went to half rations, to ensure they would be driven by hunger to track down their quarry.

The once-familiar tasks of loading for a hunt fit like a comfortable old shoe, even after six years. Trying to figure out what to do with Uncle Frank's estate was about the last thing Jakob wanted to do with his first week back in the States. Having a few beers with the old man would have been a far better use of his time. Too bad it didn't work out that way.

His cellphone buzzed and he nearly ignored it. He didn't want to talk to anyone, least of all his mother. That stupid sense of duty he seemed stuck with dictated he at least see who was calling, and he was glad he did. At the end of the call, he had a hunting job. Looked like he wouldn't have to bluff his way onto the woman's property after all.

Satisfied, he went back to his preparations and started loading tack and feed for the horses into the beat up old four-horse trailer. His own gear followed, everything he needed to spend two weeks or more on the trail in nearly any kind of weather conditions. He would travel as light as possible, with little concession to comfort beyond what he needed to maintain his health and strength.

Weapons were the only thing for himself Jakob didn't skimp on. He'd prefer not to kill the lion, but he also wasn't about to let one eat him. The firearms were all cleaned and ready to go, as always, but he still checked each one as he slid them into the custom made carrier mounted behind the seat. The high-powered rifle and tactical shotgun were wicked looking pieces of armament, and the handguns could have possessed evil intent based on appearances.

The lesson about going fully armed had been a hard one. Most people would assume the firearms were sufficient and stop there. Not Jakob. He added a Bowie knife and a machete to his usual pocket knife and the lock-blade he carried on his belt. The hatchet that usually proved useful about camp also made a brutally effective weapon in the right hands. He had no intention of passing up a perfectly good weapon just because it wasn't what someone expected to be anything other than a tool.

Finally, with everything ready except the horses, he led the four anxious animals from the corral and loaded them into the four-horse trailer. He had a pack animal and two spare saddle horses who could do double duty with light packs. It might seem like overkill, but that many horses would allow him to move as quickly and for as long as he was capable. An idea percolated in the back of his mind, suggesting that if he finished the hunt for the lion quickly, perhaps Miss Holt might allow him to spend a few days on her land, just relaxing.

Moments after latching the trailer doors, he pulled out, glad for the prospect of open road stretched ahead. Of course, he had to run the gauntlet that was Ewingsville first. If there was one single thing about home he had not missed during his deployments, it was the Ewingsville PD. More specifically, Chief Bellamy, who operated the Police Department for the little town where Jakob had grown up.

As a sophomore in high school, Jakob and two other boys had gone along with an idea Chief Bellamy's son came up with. Apparently churches frowned on having their vans hotwired by a bunch of high school boys. Especially when those boys hooked chains to the rear axles and played 'tug o war' with the vans until one ripped the rear-end out of the other. The stunt landed squarely at the feet of Chief Bellamy's son, and resulted in a vendetta against the other three.

Even after so many years, every single time Jakob went into Ewingsville, he could depend on Chief Bellamy or one of his men to pull him over and harass him. Last week, on his way into town after most of six years away, they cuffed him and put him in the cruiser while a K9 went through his rental car. During their 'search', they dumped all his belongings on the side of the road, emptied the four bottles of water in his cooler and crushed up the snack foods he'd bought moments earlier at the gas station. All in the name of searching for illegal drugs, based on his past so-called bad behavior.

If he could reach the highway any other way, he would have gladly avoided Ewingsville altogether, but unfortunately, that was not an option. At least not with the dually and trailer. The light at the entrance to town glowed red in the late evening gloom, and Jakob pushed back against the impulse to floor the truck and keep going. Instead, he got off the gas and let the truck start to slow itself well ahead of time.

True to form, blue lights flashed in his driver's side mirror as a cruiser swung in behind him. They would just have to get him at the light because he sure as fuck was not going to swerve off the road pulling a loaded four horse rig. The last thing he needed was for the stock to get banged up because a small town rent-a-cop had a hate-on for him.

The wait for the officer to approach his window felt endless, but finally the familiar bulk of Chief Bellamy swaggered in Jakob's direction. Fucking wonderful. Getting pulled over wasn't bad enough, of course it had to be the head dick.

Jakob made sure to keep his hands clearly on the steering wheel, ten and two. Last thing he needed was for anyone to mistakenly think he was going for a weapon. Especially in a truck full of them.

Bellamy wheezed to a stop outside the open window. "Well, well, I heard you were back in town. Should have expected it, I guess, what with your uncle passing away like that. Where you headed?"

The impulse to roll his eyes like a sullen teenager struck hard and fast, and Jakob barely managed to not give in. Nothing like prodding at a mean bull to get your ass kicked, and that would have been the same result. "Out of town to cover a hunt for Uncle Frank." The less information he gave the better.

The old cop nodded, sharp gaze missing nothing about the rig. "Uh huh. That what they're calling it these days? Guess I shouldn't be too surprised. Always figured you for the kind to come in and clean out a dead man's house before the heirs can be contacted."

Fury shot through Jakob. One of these days the old bastard would meet his match. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. "What are you talking about? I'm his only heir, and you know that. I'm also his executor, so it's my job to settle his estate."

"Be that as it may, you can't just load up his property and hit the road before it's been settled in probate court. You'll have to head back to his place and unload."

Jakob shook his head and tried really hard to stay quiet. "Look, Chief, I'm not trying to do anything wrong. But the fact is, my name is already on the titles and deeds. There's nothing to settle. I can show you the registration of this rig as proof. I also have the animals' vet clearances to travel. With my name listed as owner. Weapons? Look them up, registered in my name. So if you don't have anything else, I'll be on my way. There's a mountain lion killing horses over in Johnson County, and I've committed to hunting it." The light went green and Jakob put the truck in gear.

Chief Bellamy glared but in the end, he tightened his mouth, took a step back and nodded. Jakob didn't wait for anything more. He lifted one hand in farewell and let the truck roll forward, gradually building speed.

That was pure luck. If Bellamy had decided to search him, with six dogs, four horses, all their gear and two weeks' worth of supplies, not only would it have taken all night and stress the animals, but dumping his supplies would've cost a fortune. He wasn't the same kid they'd intimidated for so long. He'd given them a one-time pass the last time, but he wouldn't stand quiet for them to harass him again, or destroy his property. And now Bellamy knew it.

Now he would have to be doubly careful. Either this encounter would have ended the trouble, or more likely, it had given Bellamy cause to hate him even more. The bastard had pushed as far as he was going to, though.

The truck rolled out of town and headed for the freeway, and Jakob scanned radio stations, looking for something besides pop or country. Figured. Nothing. He clicked the CD player on and the unique sound of Metallica filled the truck.