Fear Familiar Bundle (99 page)

Beneath the snowy mound of white, a small shape struggled. Growls and hisses filled the room, and sharp claws tore ineffectually at the tight weave of the sheet.

Moving carefully, William bundled up the cat and held him, struggling, to his chest.

Mary couldn't help the tears. "It's Familiar. I saw him."

"I know," William said.

"What happened?" she asked. "Is he…mad?"

"There's been no rabies here or in Britain for years. The laws for bringing an animal into this country are very strict." He shifted the cat, trying to find a gentler hold on the thrashing animal. "I don't know how Eleanor and Peter got him in here, though."

"Surely he's had his shots. Peter's a veterinarian."

"Aye, he is." William held the cat as gently as he could, but he had a terrible feeling. He looked down at his leg, at the blood still seeping from the wounds.

"What should we do?" Mary asked. If she were in Edinburgh, she'd know how to get some help for the cat. She hadn't a clue in Kelso. Was there help available?

"Get dressed. We're going to Dr. Faulkner's clinic right away."

"At this hour of the night?" Relief made her almost giddy. There was help at hand.

"At this moment," William said, "Familiar's life may depend on it."

Dawn was breaking when the gray-haired veterinarian came into the lobby where Mary and William waited.

"He's calm now," Dr. Albert Faulkner said. "I've never seen an animal so distraught, so violent. It's a puzzling case, and we won't know anything until the tests come back."

"Is he…?" Mary had to fight back the swell of emotion that almost overwhelmed her. "Is he going to live?"

Dr. Faulkner ran a hand through his hair and resettled his glasses on his nose. "Since I don't know what happened to him, I can't make any promises. But he is stabilized now. He's a strong, healthy cat."

William reached over to grasp Mary's hand. "Dr. Faulkner is the best. He'll do everything possible for Familiar."

Dr. Faulkner picked up Familiar's chart and scanned it as he spoke. "I can remember when your father wouldn't allow you to have a cat, William. Where did Familiar come from?"

William hesitated. "He belongs to my cousin. I'm caring for him for a few weeks."

"I see." Dr. Faulkner took a seat beside Mary. "Then you don't know his medical history."

"No," William said. "But my cousin's husband is a veterinarian, so I'm sure he's had all of his vaccinations, and the best of care."

"I see." Dr. Faulkner's tone was speculative, but he didn't press the issue.

"Can I check on him?" Mary asked. "Just a peek."

"He's asleep, and he's resting heavily," Dr. Faulkner cautioned her. "It might be a good idea for you to see him. And I want to talk to William."

Mary made her way to the examining room where Familiar had been placed in a large kennel. He was on his side, as still as death.

Mary unlatched the door and reached in to stroke his black hide. Familiar's normally sleek fur felt rough and dry, but his body was cool. When they'd captured him in the sheet, he'd been burning hot. William had been afraid he was going to convulse from the fever.

"How is the black boy?" she asked softly, stroking his head.

One green eye opened and gave her an unfocused look.

"Familiar?" Mary bent down so that she was very close. As her fingers stroked his fur, she heard a ragged purr. "Oh, Familiar," she said, wanting to pull the cat into her arms but afraid to disturb him. There were no broken bones— that much she knew for certain. But had there been internal injuries from the fever?

"Meow." Familiar lifted his head and looked around the room.

"Everything's going to be fine," Mary said as she stroked his head. "Just fine."

E
ASY FOR YOU
to say, Miss Pixie. My head is throbbing like a jackhammer is ripping into it. And where am I? The last thing I remember is strolling up to the turret room to see if I could catch a glimpse of old Slaytor MacEachern. I was comfortably curled beside the door, listening. And then— wham!

I've never had anything like that happen. It was almost as if I'd lost control of my own body— and my mind. I had this incredible impulse to bite and claw, to lash out at anyone who came near me. It's a good thing my beautiful Clotilde didn't see me in such a state. She would have been terrified. And the strangest thing is, I knew I was acting wild, but it didn't seem like it was really me.

I remembered the feel of cold marble beneath my paws, and the smell of the mountains in Tennessee. It was so incredibly sharp, like a very concentrated smell. My body began to burn, and I had to pant. The fire was crackling in Mary's room— very loud. I could smell the oak burn and hear the fibers snap. My sense of smell and hearing were so intensified. And I knew I had to hide.

It was so primal, so ancient, the survival of the cat, the hunter. The king. I couldn't help myself. Moving from shadow to shadow I made it under Mary's bed, and I knew they were both there.

Hunkered down under the bed, I remember thinking that it was my time. The rest is a blur.

The next thing I knew, I was wrapped in a bed sheet and being held down. A totally humiliating experience, let me assure you.

But the real question is, what happened to me? How did I go from Familiar the Lovable to Familiar the Hunter?

I'll figure it out, that's for certain, but right now, I think I'll give up thinking for a little while and allow myself to yield to the luxury of Mary's hand stroking my temples. She has such a wonderful touch. And she's so upset. She's even crying. The child has a heart as tender as a flower. I'd better make a little effort to purr so that she knows I'm okay.

"J
UST REST
, Familiar," Mary whispered. She wiped the tears from her cheeks. She was so relieved to see the cat awake— and giving it his best attempt to purr. There was no trace of the wild, furious animal from the night before.

When Familiar's eyes closed again, Mary latched the kennel door and went back to the waiting room. William and Albert Faulkner were discussing possibilities.

"I'd say chemical," the vet was saying. "Check the house and see if you can find out what he might have gotten into."

"There's nothing." William's voice was insistent. "Erick and I discussed the use of pesticides months ago. Like every large farm, we have to use something, but we're extremely careful."

"What about rat bait at the barn?" Albert Faulkner asked.

"I've thought of that. It isn't possible." William was sitting on the edge of his chair, his expression adamant. "Whatever Familiar got into, it wasn't a poison."

"He's awake," Mary said, deliberately interrupting the conversation. She could tell that William was worried and frustrated. "He's even purring."

"An excellent sign," Dr. Faulkner said with his first smile of the morning. "Now, you two look worse than the cat. You'd better go home and get some sleep."

"And you, too, Dr. Faulkner." Mary liked the vet. He'd been so careful with Familiar, and extremely thorough.

"Aye, I'll catch a few hours. I'm due over at Chancey's barn to check on a horse for her."

"Give her my regards," Mary said quickly. "And tell her I'll be ready for another ride soon."

Albert Faulkner shook his head, but he was grinning. "You're a spunky lass. Gossip runs through this area faster than the wind. I heard you took a spill just yesterday. And ready to go again. It must be the love of horses that you share with William and the MacEachern clan."

"She is a rare treasure," William agreed as he put his arm around Mary's shoulders. "We'll call about Familiar later in the day."

"He seems to be making a rapid recovery, but I'll watch him for a bit more. Go on with the two of you. And, William, check the barn for poison."

"You're right," William agreed. "I will check very thoroughly."

He opened the door for Mary, and they walked out into the new day.

"Dr. Faulkner thinks Familiar was poisoned," William said as he assisted Mary into the car.

She waited until he'd gotten behind the wheel before she answered. "So I heard. Is it possible?"

"Anything is possible. But we don't use rat bait. Or at least, we shouldn't be using it. Erick and I both agree that it's dangerous. But I'll ask the grooms and everyone else." William's shoulders ached from the stress of the night.

"I'm sure Dr. Faulkner will find out what happened to Familiar." Mary placed her hand on William's neck and gently massaged the tense muscles. "The important thing is that he's going to be okay. But I think we should call Eleanor and Peter."

"I agree." William sighed. "It would break Eleanor's heart if anything happened to that cat."

"He's going to be fine." Mary continued the massage until she felt William's neck begin to loosen up. "We're all going to be fine, William. All of us."

I
T WAS LATE
afternoon and, over Sophie's protests, Mary had dressed for a riding lesson.

"Shalimar is perfectly fine." She took a breath. "If I'm ever going to learn to handle the mare, I need to do it now. If I wait too long, I'm afraid that I'll become scared of her."

"But she hasn't been ridden!"

Mary's smile was secretive. "Ah, but she has. Kevin rode her this morning. We're going to double team her."

Sophie's concerns lessened and she sighed. "Mary, you are the most stubborn person I've ever known."

"It's my nature," Mary agreed. She laughed at her friend's expression. "It's true. I am stubborn. My father used to tell me I was half mule."

At that, Sophie finally smiled. "I can sympathize with him."

"Things are better, Sophie. Last night William was wonderful. He was kind, tender…so loving." She felt the blush begin to creep up her skin but she didn't look away from her friend. "Things are going to be okay. I can feel it in my bones."

"Are you sure?" Sophie touched Mary's shoulder. "I know you love William. But love isn't everything."

"I know." Mary soothed her friend's worries. "Right now, I'm more concerned about our black cat than William. I'm expecting Dr. Faulkner to call, and William has gone down to check on some of the cattle. Erick said there was some problem with a fence."

"I'll come and get you if the vet calls," Sophie assured her. "If you insist on riding when you can hardly hobble down the stairs, just be careful and have a good ride."

"Cheerio." Mary's laughter floated behind her as she walked— as normally as her sore muscles allowed— toward the barn.

Shalimar was none the worse for wear from the accident the day before. Nostrils flaring, she sniffed eagerly at Mary and gave her an easy butt with her head.

"She likes you," Kevin interpreted.

"I like her." Mary rubbed the mare's forehead and gave her the carrot she'd taken from the kitchen.

"Ah, so you're trying to bribe her?" Kevin's dark eyes sparkled.

"I'll try anything not to find myself eating dirt again." Mary felt a real rush of excitement as she mounted Shalimar. As frightened as she'd been, and as much as the fall had hurt, she'd enjoyed riding. With some practice, she knew she could become a good rider. And then she and William could ride together, galloping over the beautiful borderlands.

Under Kevin's firm but gentle instruction, Mary found that she progressed rapidly. She was just learning to sit the gallop when she saw Sophie headed her way.

"Is it Dr. Faulkner?" she asked as she reined in Shalimar.

"It's Peter. Just checking in, but he didn't have any news. I told him what had happened, and he's going to call Dr. Faulkner so they can consult on Familiar's test results."

"Good." Mary had been trying to find Peter and Eleanor all morning, but they hadn't answered the telephone in their Edinburgh hotel. She didn't know Peter at all, but his reputation at research was excellent. Between the two vets, Familiar was in the best hands.

Sophie leaned on the fence while Mary finished her lesson, and the two of them went inside together.

"You really can ride." Sophie didn't bother to hide her surprise. "You're such a petite person, I didn't think you'd ever learn to haul a big horse around."

"I'm learning, and it isn't as hard as I thought." Mary was exhilarated. "By next week, I'll be ready for Chancey again."

"Absolutely not!" Sophie shook her head. "Don't even think about such a thing. I found three gray hairs this morning while I was brushing my hair. You're making me old before my time. At the idea of another ride with that Scottish hellcat, I'll be white-headed."

"Sure those gray hairs aren't from seeing ghosts?" Mary's laughter seemed to fill the courtyard.

"I'm sure." Sophie laughed, too. "It's you. Not even a ghost can be blamed for this."

"Miss Mary?"

At Abby's approach, Mary let her laughter subside. "Yes?"

"Dr. Faulkner called while you were riding. I didn't want to interrupt your lesson, but he said that he's been unable to determine what was wrong with Familiar. Nonetheless, the cat has made a complete recovery, and you may pick him up today. And he said Dr. Curry spoke with him." Abby smiled. "Don't worry, dear. Dr. Faulkner will figure it out. He's saved many an animal around these parts."

"Let's go get Familiar now," Sophie said.

"Right." Mary wanted a chance to talk to the vet in person— and she wanted Familiar home, safe and sound.

She left a note for William, and she and Sophie drove the six miles to the vet's office. Familiar was ready for them, his voice still sounding rough but his meow welcoming.

Dr. Faulkner had gone on a call to Chancey's barn, and the nurse at his clinic said the tests were inconclusive, so far. Not all of the results were in.

"He's fine," Sophie said, picking up the cat. "Let's get him home and let Abby feed him."

"He's a very picky eater," the nurse said. "Doesn't care for his dry food."

"A picky eater? Not Familiar," Mary answered. "That cat eats twenty-four hours a day."