Necessary Evil (3 page)

The arctic cold front was doing its deed in earnest. With the truck's wipers losing the fight against the ice, the Volvo quickly disappeared, then abruptly reappeared out of the storm—at a dead crawl. Kier nearly rear-ended her, swerved, and made a split-second decision to go around the car. Now was his chance—he would lead the way.

To his surprise, the Volvo jumped ahead, moving toward the centerline. It was too late to avoid a collison. Grating fenders sent an ugly feeling through his gut. The Volvo's left rear fender crumpled against the oversize tires of the pickup.

Within seconds, Jessie's fist was pounding on the passenger's side window. He opened the door, and she jumped in.

"I have never had an accident." She said it in a deliberate, clipped way. Her cheeks were red, her dark hair flecked with snow. "Now this."

"I'm Kier Wintripp. Like I said, I was just on my way to Claudie's. It's nice to meet you. And I apologize for the fender."

"Jessie Mayfield." She shook his hand in a businesslike manner.

"I can be of more help if I go just ahead of you," Kier continued. "The truck will pack down the snow, and I know the way."

"I
know
the way." She paused. "Look, you pulled around without any warning," she said more sharply. "I know I sound angry." Another pause.

Kier decided that whatever she was thinking was a welcome distraction from her anger.

"That's probably because I'm pissed," she said, half laughing. He noticed what on a better day would be a terrific smile.

''Don't be. I crashed into your car. You have a right to yell."

"Wait, wait." She shook her head. "I am not yelling."

He knew he should drop it. But he couldn't resist.

"Claudie will understand. Blinding snowstorm. You pulled ahead unexpectedly while I was trying to go around you. To break trail."

"I was trying to get to the middle of this disappearing road, and you neglected to explain that you should go ahead when you stopped me."

"This is no big deal," Kier said. "You're just not used to driving on mountain roads in a snowstorm."

"I'm from New York. It snows every winter."

He stared at her, somewhat amused, somewhat stumped.

She stared back. "My sister calls you the James Herriot of Wintoon County. Says you tame mean dogs just by looking at them. Even tame shrews. So where did that soothing personality go?"

"By
not
looking at them. I just don't challenge dogs."

She opened the door and stepped into the snow.

"Ever try it on people?"

"I treat most anything. If your shrew has a problem, you could call for an appointment."

She shut his door firmly.

"A cougar attacked Dawn. She's bleeding and won't let anyone near her. She's crazy with fear and dilated like she's going to foal."

Nothing about this day would be easy. At the Donahue ranch, Claudie was waiting for them in front of the house in the full blizzard.

She glanced from Jessie to Kier, seemingly unconcerned about the fender of her Volvo. Even in an emergency, she had those mother's-bliss eyes, now slick with tears.

"Where is she?" Kier asked.

"We put her in the paddock near the woods where she wouldn't be bothered. Ever since that new law where nobody can shoot the cougars, they've come around. But usually they stay away from the big animals." Claudie drew a breath, visibly shaken. "I'll bet she's up the pasture a long ways."

"Just let me get a few things."

Kier pulled a big nylon bag from his truck. In seconds, they were in the old barn, Jessie following. They passed eight stalls that opened onto the paddocks, and walked out into the storm. In the far corner of the paddock, the soil was broken and the electric fence ripped apart.

''Normally, I'd chase her on another horse and rope her, but she's about to foal," Claudie said. "I didn't know what to do."

Kier walked quickly to where the mare had tussled with the cat, trying to read what had happened.

"Swollen and slow," he said. "She looked wounded to the cat . . easy prey." Kier shook his head. "In her condition, she won't run far. You two can use the truck." He looked at Jessie. "I assume you don't ride horses."

"Just have that look about me, huh?"

It took Kier a few minutes to saddle a horse in the barn. He then took a second horse and clipped a lead rope onto its halter.

"Why are you bringing Shaman too?" Claudie asked, referring to the haltered horse. "You'll see."

Jessie was both attracted and repelled by this man. In her current frame of mind it was a relief to find anything attractive about any man. Probably the stories she had heard, the healing stuff, influenced her perceptions. He was also handsome and more masculine than a leather tobacco pouch. Now, sitting in his truck she had studied him; the fade of his jeans, and that they were clean; the deep brown of his heavily oiled boots; his leanness—no part of his belly hung over his belt, and his smart-looking khaki shirt.

Now watching him ride in a bulky overcoat, his hat cocked low, leaning into the wind, he looked like a vision from the old West. After a couple of hundred yards, Jessie and Claudie drove up to a barbed-wire fence. They got out and walked to where Kier knelt over tracks in the snow. The flakes were beginning to dance and swirl. Drifts were deepening.

"I doubt she crossed this fence. So she was probably shunted to the far corner," Claudie said.

"Yup." Kier followed the tracks down the fence line. "Damn."

He knelt again at a muddy spot where the snow mixed with soil. There was a cougar track right amongst the mare's hoofprints. A splotch of blood had congealed on the snow.

"He's still after her."

Kier opened a compartment on the truck and removed a large canvas bag, which he handed to Jessie. Grabbing the saddle horn, he vaulted onto the horse and, in one smooth motion, snatched back his medical bag.

"Catch up with me," he said, leaving at a dead run.

Jessie and Claudie didn't have to drive far. Around the next stand of trees, Jessie saw Kier in the distance, standing next to his mount, watching the silver-gray mare against the fence. Coming right to the foot of the mountain, the oak-dotted pasture made a natural funnel defined by the terrain. The cattle scattered in response to the activity, then banded together in the far corner of the pasture, perhaps smelling the blood or the big cat.

Kier left his medical bag by a lone oak, then swung out of the saddle and hung from the side of his horse with one foot in the stirrup, his body facing his mount's rear. From what she could tell, Kier was approaching the mare while leading the other horse. The wounded mare tossed her head and began moving away down the fence.

Kier stopped.

As they neared the scene, Jessie could see the lather and blood covering the panicked Dawn. Nostrils flaring, the horse panted wildly, intermittently making a high-pitched, squealing noise. Jessie could even see the newborn colt beginning to emerge, a dark spot that appeared to be the colt's forelegs.

Kier waved at Jessie to stop the truck.

Now Jessie saw the blood on the mare's flanks and a horrible wound on her nose. On her belly a deep, bloody furrow ran between many smaller gashes. Jessie gasped. What looked like greenish viscera protruded from the deeper belly wounds. Blood dripped thickly from more places than she could count.

At the oak tree, the women climbed out of the truck, watching, riveted to the delicate dance before them. Every time Kier's horse stepped toward the mare, the wounded creature would begin moving up the fence.

"It looks bad," Jessie said.

"It's worse than that," Claudie said. "From what I can see, the cat grabbed her nose with his paw, sank his teeth in her neck, raked her flank. I think she's lost a lot of blood."

Jessie suddenly realized why Kier was hanging off his horse: By doing so, he remained almost invisible to the wounded mare. Guiding the two horses to the mare's left side, Kier stopped them along the fence a good thirty feet from her. He steadied the two horses, now skittish at the smell of blood, and kept them tight together.

Still the mare sidestepped away.

Kier moved the two horses again, at least ten feet back, giving Dawn even more room. The mare still tossed her head, but this time she took a few nervous steps toward them. Kier remained stock-still, stuck to the side of his horse. Again the mare came toward them, then stopped. It seemed she would come no closer.

Stepping down from his mount, Kier let his horse drift away, so that he came into full view of the mare. He stood square to her, focusing all his attention on her now. He raised his arm and pointed at her and began chanting loudly in Tilok.

The mare pawed and snorted. She backed away at first. But after a minute, she turned sideways, flicked an ear, then released a breathy squeal of pain. Another contraction came hard. The moment the mare flicked the ear down, Kier's chanting grew softer, and he turned sideways to her as if singing to the horizon—as if he were ignoring her.

As the two horses with Kier calmed down, the mare neighed, rolled her eyes, and stepped closer. Now, she was perhaps twenty feet away. Seconds ticked by. Wearily, she pawed the ground, wobbling as if she might go down. Whinnying sounds followed breathy squeals in time with her contractions.

Kier's chanting grew louder again, and he once again turned squarely and pointed at her, fixing his gaze on her. The mare threw her head and backed up. Still Kier pressed her, even stepping forward, his arm locked, finger aimed. Again she moved away, breathing hard, frightened, pitiful. Finally, her ear cocked and she turned her flank to Kier. He also turned sideways, crooning softly, seeming once again to ignore her altogether.

To Jessie it seemed almost as if Kier were in a trance, unconcerned, unaware of the emergency to his side. Then she noticed his feet; like the minute hand on a clock, they moved in almost undetectable increments. The two horses at his sides just naturally drifted with him. They were almost to the mare when she closed the gap by taking two steps toward them. Kier slipped the lariat off the saddle horn.

"God, this should be on TV," Jessie whispered. "What are the words?"

Claudie shook her head. "Some weird Tilok chant." She shook her head. "As long as it works."

Now Kier moved to the mare, stroking between her eyes. His chant became softer yet as, slowly, he moved to the side of her neck and slipped the lasso over her head. With the rope around her, the mare seemed to calm completely, as if she knew it was futile even to think of running. Gently, Kier tugged her down into the snow so that she lay on her side. In an instant, he was on his knees, stroking her neck and motioning the women forward. Claudie came with the medical bag, while Jessie hung back, knowing instinctively that it would not be good to crowd the injured mare.

With each contraction, Dawn let out an almost human groan. Now a third of the way out of the womb, the glistening wet colt thrashed its forelegs to aid in its own birth. It appeared a spindly, delicate thing as it came through the stretched membranes.

Using large metal hemostats, which looked to Jessie like needle-nose pliers, Kier set about probing the deep ugly wounds on the mare's neck. He pinched off the larger blood vessels, all the while chanting to the horse. Next, he did the same with the fissurelike wound in her belly. Finally, he moved to the colt and helped it slip from the birth canal.

Jessie watched his face while he worked, the calm concentration as his hands constantly moved, touching the mare, stroking her as she released her foal.

At last Kier looked to the women and nodded. Claudie breathed a sigh.

"I need to get back to the kids," she said. Then Jessie felt Claudie's hand on her shoulder.

"You should be more careful about letting that stallion get to the mare in the springtime. This is the wrong season for delivering a foal."

For the trip back to the barn, Kier had the foal on a small pile of straw in the bed of the pickup. The mare, no longer bleeding, would follow her foal at her own pace. The other two horses, now in halters, with their saddles and tack in the truck, would instinctively return to the comfort of their stalls and paddock.

"That stallion's like a lot of men," said Claudie. "Just one thing on his mind."

"I don't know any men like that," Kier said.

He sat next to Jessie, relaxing his legs, aware that her thigh was touching his. He sensed that she was nervous about the contact. Claudie was completely spread out on the passenger side, perhaps oblivious to her sister's situation. Perhaps not. They crossed over Wispit Creek on a small bridge. He took in the pleasant fragrance of Jessie's hair and secretly enjoyed the way she tossed it to keep it out of her eyes. After helping Claudie out of the truck, he offered Jessie a hand.

"You're trying to decide if I'm a human being or a cop?"

"No. I think that's your question."

He walked to the back of the truck to lift out the foal. Its wobbly legs went in every direction as Kier carried him into a hay-covered stall in the barn.