“Because he’s quick, and he’s small,” Cougar said. “Fate cut us a break. Be grateful.”
“Don’t tell me to be grateful.” Greg pivoted and postured, hands on hips. “You don’t know what we’re dealing with here. But you will if I see any more evidence of emotional or psychological trauma.”
Cougar chuckled. “You wanna sue me for something that didn’t happen? What are you, a lawyer?”
“No, but I have one.”
“Have at it, then. If I harmed this kid, I’ll make sure—”
“He wasn’t hurt,” Celia insisted quietly. “He’s fine, and he doesn’t need to hear this.”
“He can’t hear, remember?” Greg’s challenge swung from Celia to Cougar. “Doctors don’t know why, but I do. It’s because his mother left him to—”
“Greg, please. Let’s not do this now. You know what’s going to happen.” She continued to speak in hushed tones while Mark went right on attending to the kittens. He was protecting himself in ways that she could not, but still she would do what she could. Maybe he didn’t hear, but she believed he could, and when he was ready, he would. Meanwhile, he had keen senses, and she would not have him treated otherwise.
She moved past Greg and caught Mark’s attention. “Let’s go have a look at the mustangs.”
“Hell with the mustangs,” Greg bellowed. “Next thing I know, you’ll have him wandering into the path of a pack of wild horses.”
“They run in herds,” Cougar said.
“Put the cats down, Mark.” Greg grabbed Mark by the elbow and urged him to his feet. “We’re going to Rapid City. We’ll catch the snake show.” His big hand swallowed the child’s small one. “Like I said, I’ve got a lawyer. We’re not done yet, Cecilia. Not by a long shot.”
Cougar stood in the doorway and watched the boy tag along with his father, stretching his leash arm to its limit, dragging his toes in the dirt. He tamped down the urge to go after them, spring the ham-fisted trap and release the kid. Why wasn’t there some kind of law against adults using kids to even a score? Maybe Cougar should make one. He’d gladly enforce it.
Come on, Mark’s father, sue me.
“I’m sorry about that.” Celia’s soft voice drew him back into her company, where his anger began to cool. “I guess you could tell, we aren’t exactly on friendly terms. I try not to say very much when he gets going like that. It’s pointless to try to talk with him.” She touched his arm. “Thank you for understanding.”
“The guy already pissed me off once today, so the understanding part was easy. The hard part is watching Mark. He doesn’t want to go.”
“I know. But Greg has his new court order.” She didn’t sound too happy about it. “And his lawyer.”
“It’s none of my business,” he reminded himself aloud. “Unless he wants it to be. In that case, bring it on.”
“I hope not,” she said with a sigh. “I’m tired of fighting. It’s a distraction from figuring out what’s best for Mark.”
She sure sounded tired, and he felt bad about that, even though he was pretty sure whatever distraction he’d just caused hadn’t been a bad thing. The truth was, he’d headed straight for the barn when he saw the bread delivery truck parked beside her little blue Chevy. He was in the habit of filing away the details of every vehicle he saw, where he saw it and whether it might blow up in his face down the road. After the conversation he’d had with Mark’s father at the store, he’d done the math in his head—ex plus ex—and he’d chosen to butt in. It had taken him all of two minutes to develop a strong dislike for the man and become Celia’s natural ally.
Which might have just added to her difficulties, dumbass. You don’t know what’s going on between these two people. When did you become lifeguard on this beach?
I saved a life yesterday, didn’t I?
You came within an inch of ending one. Two, if you count yours.
“I don’t have to pick out a horse today,” Cougar said. “I can wait for Mark.” Which was just a thought, in case anyone inside his head was listening.
“He loves them all. Whichever you choose, tell him you’ll share. Come look.” Celia gestured toward the far side of the barn. She led, and he followed.
They rounded the corner of the building, clambered up the tall rail fence and peered past a set of corrals. At least a dozen young horses milled about in a small pasture.
“They’ll let you handle it any way you want. Run them all into the pens for a close look, turn out the ones that don’t interest you, let you run your own test on those that do.” She grabbed a piece of her sorrel-colored hair away from the wind and anchored it behind her ear. “It’s fun to watch people make their selection. Sometimes they want the wildest one in the bunch. Other times you just know they’re looking for one that looks like he’s half asleep.”
“I want one that’s almost as smart as I am.” He smiled at her. “But not quite.”
“You said Logan was here? He’s the one you should confer with. Have you read his book?”
“His book?”
“The one about how he trains horses,” Celia said. “I can never remember titles, but it’s the author’s name that’s important, and Logan Wolf Track is the real deal.”
“The real deal, huh?” Cougar smiled. So that’s what a real deal looks like. “I figured he was a good trainer. Didn’t know he’d written a book, though.”
“It’s wonderful.” Celia scrambled back down the fence, and Cougar jumped down after her. “I knew nothing about horses when I started volunteering here, and my friend, Ann, gave me Logan’s book. Ann’s Sally’s sister. She’s a teacher, too. We both teach at…” She waved at something that caught her eye behind his back. “He’s over here!”
Cougar turned to find “the real deal” striding in his direction. Logan had parked in front of the house, and Cougar had promised to be along in a minute. No questions had been asked, no comments exchanged.
“Sally’s waiting for you to fill out some papers, cowboy,” Logan announced. “That’s one woman you don’t wanna keep waiting.”
“Why not? She kept me waiting.”
“That was yesterday. You keep her waiting today, you’ll just be giving her time to think up something the sanctuary needs that nobody but you can provide.” Logan clapped his hand on Cougar’s shoulder. “Because you’re just that special.”
“What’s your specialty?” Cougar asked Celia.
“Well, with a B.S. in education—Sally calls it a B.S. in BS-ing—we’ve found that I’m really good at distinguishing horse manure from boot polish.”
The men looked at each other.
“Shinola?” Celia insisted. “Boot polish?”
Both men grinned. “Long story short, there was a time when she kept Sally waiting,” Logan told Cougar.
Chapter Three
“I’m going with one of the Paints.”
Cougar laid the form on Sally Night Horse’s desk, most of the blanks, including the horse’s ID number, finally filled in. He’d been leaning toward a bay that showed strong Spanish Mustang traits when Celia mentioned her