Walker Pride (14 page)

Eric rolled his shoulders back and tried to ease the pinch between them. The conversation he’d had with his father yesterday over his uncle’s gambling addiction pressed its way into his mind as his house came into view. They all sought to lose if Elias Morgan took over the property. He wondered how his cousins Jake, Todd, Pearl, and Audrey felt about their father’s
betrayal.
Poor Bethany was so disconnected to all of it he wondered why she’d even stayed the few days she had. But then he realized she and Susan were kindred souls. They were both looking for something new and they’d found that in the strangest of places—his grandfather’s funeral.

Regardless of what happened to his home, this was a turning point for his family. Eric vowed at that moment, to himself, that he’d take care of Bethany. It was obvious her father wasn’t going to make her part of the family. A wave of disappointment washed over him when he realized that her brothers and sisters didn’t seem to be making advances there either.

He still had a good mind to talk to Elias Morgan, with or without Smith and Wesson. However, he’d give it a few days and let his father and his lawyers continue to work on it a bit. Then he’d move in.

Eric knew he could build a house somewhere else. Georgia was big enough. Hell, if things worked out, he could move in with Susan—though the thought of city life left a vile taste in his mouth. But there were options. The one thing he wasn’t going to let happen was the dismantling of his family.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed to him that his father was looking worn down and weak. His brothers seemed to be on edge and he’d be damned if they ever moved his mother from the cemetery in which she rested. The Walkers were not going to be torn apart just because Byron was an idiot.

As Eric pulled up to his house, he had a sense of rejuvenation. The Walkers weren’t going down without a fight.

Eric stepped out of the truck just as Dane ran around the side of the house from the barn.

“Whisky River,” was all he said on a raspy breath from running.

Nothing more needed to be said. Eric ran toward the barn as quickly as he could with a panicked jolt running through his chest.

When they arrived, Whiskey River was lying still, on his side. His breathing was labored.

“What happened to him?” Eric knelt down next to him, brushing his coat with his hand.

“I don’t know. I came out here looking for you and I found him this way. He looks really sick.”

“No, shit!” Eric ran his hand over the horse’s body looking for traces of a bite or a cut. “Get on the phone. Call Dr. Parks. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

Dane nodded and ran for the office.

Eric sat down next to Whisky River’s head and ran his hand down his nose. “C’mon, ole man. Hold on there. We’ll get you fixed.”

He pressed his head to the horse’s and a tear fell from his eye. Nothing had been as precious to him over the years as the horse, which lay next to him, struggling to breathe. How sad was he to have only had a relationship with a horse? But that’s what it was. They’d built his business together, he and his trusty horse. He couldn’t lose him now.

Eric was aware of the other horses in the barn. There was restlessness among them. Something had set them off, he thought. Was it more than Whiskey River falling sick?

He gave the horse another pat and stood to survey the stalls. Each horse was there, but they neighed and moved between their walls as if they had something to say.

There was a huge responsibility to him to keep the other horses calm and safe. They were his business.

Dane ran out of the office. “He’s on his way.”

“Check out that mare on the end. Raven Wing. Make sure she’s calm.”

Dane gave him a nod and ran toward the horse, which reared up on her hind legs just as Dane reached her. Her front hooves caught him on the jaw knocking him back into the wall of the barn.

Eric ran toward the horse, grabbing a rope off the wall as he passed. The horse spun circles in her stall as Eric approached. Her eyes were wild and a moment later she too collapsed onto her side.

“What the hell?” Eric moved in, dropped the rope, and touched the horse. She too labored at her breathing.

The groan behind him reminded him that his brother was hurt. He turned to see Dane on his hands and knees, blood pouring from his chin.

“Christ, you need a doctor.”

“You think?” Dane stayed on all fours as if he too couldn’t move. “Damn horse. I don’t think she broke my jaw, but I’m going to need stitches,” he said as he turned to sit on the ground.

Dane pulled his outer shirt off and pressed it to his jaw.

“You’re going to have one hell of a black eye too.”

“What happened to them? This isn’t normal.”

Eric continued to pet the mare as she fought to breathe. “I don’t know. I don’t see any bite marks or cuts.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and called Ben. They needed help and Dane needed a hospital.

Within ten minutes, Ben and Russell had both arrived. Russell, the brother with the queasiest of stomachs, helped Dane to his truck and headed toward the hospital.

Ben moved through the stalls and checked the other horses. “They all seem fine.”

“Whiskey River?”

“He’s fighting,” Ben said as Dr. Parks’s truck pulled through the large door to the barn.

Eric moved toward him swiftly. “I have two horses down. No bite marks, no earlier signs of sickness.”

Dr. Parks nodded. “Were they together?”

“No. The mare on the end is a boarded horse. Her owner usually works her out every day.”

“What symptoms?” he asked as he knelt down next to Whiskey River with his medical bag.

“This is how he was when I got here. Dane found him like this. Raven Wing was agitated and then she completely freaked out. She kicked Dane in the face and then she collapsed.”

Dr. Parks looked up at him. “Dane? Is he okay?”

“Russell just took him into town to get stitches. He’s going to look nasty for a few weeks.”

With a nod, Dr. Parks went about his assessment. Eric stood and looked around the barn. The horses seemed to have settled down. Ben sat with Raven Wing, but the look on his face when he made eye contact with Eric, wasn’t promising.

What had gotten to his horses? It was obvious his lack of focus toward his animals and his business had caused this in some way.

Regret buried into his gut. He was responsible for this.

Eric brushed his hand over the top of his head and slid his hat back on, low over his brow. He, Ben, and Russell had taken turns staying up with the horses all night and he was exhausted.

This was the life he’d chosen—the animals, the land, the responsibility to others to keep their animals safe. He’d failed.

Raven Wing had succumbed around one in the morning. Her owners had been with her at the end, but Eric still had to face them.

Whiskey River hung on and Eric still wasn’t sure he’d pull through.

The truck was there to collect the fallen horse. In the corner a young girl, Emily, cried. Her parents stood huddled with Dr. Parks as Eric approached them.

“Eric, I’m glad you’re here,” Dr. Parks watched him approach with weary eyes.

Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, Raven Wing’s owners, shifted their hard glances to him as he joined them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, I’m so sorry for your loss. We’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise you,” Eric offered, hoping to give them comfort.

“I think we might have,” Dr. Parks said. “I drew blood from both horses last night. They weren’t bitten by anything and it wasn’t an illness that took down the horses. These horses were poisoned.”

Eric felt his heart stop in his chest. “Someone did this to my animals?”

Dr. Parks nodded. “Do you have surveillance here?”

Eric winced. “No. I’ve never needed it.”

“You should have,” Mrs. Wilson snapped. “You should know who comes and goes from here. Someone killed our daughter’s horse and now she’s heartbroken. You can’t fix that, Mr. Walker.”

Eric turned and looked toward Whiskey River’s stall where his brother sat with the horse. He understood their pain. No, he couldn’t fix that.

Three hours later Eric had talked to the police. The other horses, which he’d boarded, were relocated and Whiskey River clung to life.

Russell walked up behind him as he watched Dr. Parks evaluate Whiskey River.

“Dad just called,” Russell said resting his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “There are three cows down in the west field.”

Eric closed his eyes and let his shoulders drop.

“Elias has gone too far this time.”

“You don’t know it’s him.”

Eric turned toward his brother. Heat seared in his veins. “You’re going to stand there and tell me it’s not him? We’re contesting him getting this land. It’s just like him to do something like this. Just like he turned his own flesh and blood away when she chose to love a man he didn’t approve of.”

“You’re making this all about you. Maybe it’s not.”

He gave Russell a shove. “Get out of my face. I’m going over there and I will knock the first man that tries to stop me on his ass .”

Russell stepped aside as Eric hurried toward his truck.

Dirt kicked up as he sped away from the barn and headed toward the Morgan’s house for the very first time in his entire life.

A mere ten miles from his front door, he crested the hill and the grand house came into view.

Son-of-a-bitch
he thought as he looked at the house. Someone who could afford such a place needed more space? He needed to destroy the very existence of the Walkers?

The speedometer on the old truck bounced between 75 and 80. Eric simply couldn’t get there fast enough.

At the turn, Eric skidded his truck through the arched, iron gateway. Some people were full of themselves. How was it that his mother had come from this family? It was no surprise that she had left.

The circle drive in front of the house was filled with cars. It was no surprise to find his uncle’s car there, but to find his father’s—that threw him into a state that he couldn’t even wrap his head around.

Eric slammed on his brakes and stopped just inches from his uncle’s back bumper. He could have cared less about destroying the man’s car, but it would have been a shame to put a dent in the truck.

A woman ran from the side of the house. “You could kill someone driving like that. Who do you think you are?”

He had no idea who the woman who stood perhaps just inches over five feet with the short wispy hair was, but she was familiar enough to him. There was a resemblance to his mother in her and that ached in his chest. Whoever she was, he was probably related to her.

“I’m Eric Walker and I’m looking for Elias Morgan, and I’m not leaving until I talk to him.”

Her eyes opened wide and she stopped a mere foot from him. The anger seemed to defuse in her eyes—eyes that matched his mother’s.

“Eric,” she said softly.

“Where is he? I have little patience to sit here and have discussions with total strangers.”

Her mouth dropped open. “He’s busy right now.”

Eric looked around at all the cars. “I see that. You know what, I’ll find him my damn self.”

He pushed past her. His long legs took him closer to the house as she turned to jog after him. “Eric, wait. You can’t go in there. Eric!” She shouted just as a man opened the front door and stepped out.

“What’s going on?”

The woman caught up to him. She panted for breath. “He’s looking for grandpa,” she said and that had Eric tightening his jaw.

So she was a cousin. What a way to meet kin.

“You’re not going anywhere,” the man said as he moved toward Eric. “Why don’t you get back into that piece of crap truck of yours and go home.”

Anger boiled inside of Eric, but the words to argue wouldn’t surface. He simply couldn’t take his eyes off the man in front of him.

They stood eye to eye. All six foot, four inches of them were the same—the same build, the same eyes, and obviously the same fever to be in charge of the situation.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to Elias.”

The man’s eyes narrowed on him. “You’ll have to go through me.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Eric grit his teeth and fisted his hands at his side.

The man smiled. “Like I said, you’re not going in unless you go through me.”

The anger that had balled up inside Eric released into his veins. He pushed into the man with all intent to push past him, only to find the man’s shoulder forcing itself into his shoulder. A moment later the man’s hands were on his chest pushing him back.

“I’m trying to save you from yourself. Go home.”

Eric shook his head and charged toward the man. He could hear the woman behind them squeal and beg them to stop, but it was too late.

The man threw the first punch, which landed right in Eric’s gut. Forcing himself to not hunch over, he brought his right fist up with an uppercut to the man’s jaw, knocking him off balance for only a moment before the man opened a full assault on him.