Dangerous Legacy (7 page)

“Okay. Sit. I have to use the radio.” Realizing he was making polite conversation with a dog, Flint chuckled. He was getting as bad as Maggie.

“Samson, this is Crawford. I have the dog and I’m bringing him in.”

“Good,” the other warden replied. “Want me to go back and tell Maggie or will you do it?”

Truth to tell, Flint wished he could pass Wolfie off on his fellow warden and not go back to Maggie’s at all, but the injured animal came first. “I’ll do it. Thanks for your help.”

“Don’t mention it. And I mean that literally—don’t mention it.” He was laughing when Flint signed off.

Reaching down, Flint scratched behind the dog’s ears and down his broad back until Wolfie dropped to the ground in apparent ecstasy. As Flint switched to a tummy rub, he checked the injured paw. Pressure stopped the bleeding, but as soon as he let go it resumed.

“I need to put your bandage back on, boy,” Flint said softly. “Here we go. That’s it. Good boy.”

The strip of cloth was barely long enough for the job, but it stuck to itself pretty well now that it was wet. Wondering how he’d keep it there while they rode back to Maggie, Flint thought of his gloves. The cuff of one of them might just do the trick, assuming he could keep the dog from pulling it off and having it for supper.

He eyed his patient. “Too bad you’re so big. I could tuck something like a hurt rabbit inside my jacket.”

Picturing himself trying that with all hundred and some pounds of Wolfie, he chuckled. “Let’s try a calf carry instead. I’ll be the cowboy.”

Flint swung astride the ATV, lifted Wolfie and slung him across the seat in front of him, head on one side, tail on the other, the way a wrangler would transport a weak calf. The dog wasn’t happy being treated that way.

“No. Stay,” Flint ordered. To his surprise, Wolfie quit wiggling, sighed and started to relax, even allowing his rescuer to slip a glove over the bandage on his sore paw. That made carrying him easier but was not a good sign overall because it might mean he was showing fatigue from blood loss.

It wasn’t until they were on their way that Flint remembered that in his haste to get medical treatment for his patient he’d forgotten to notify Maggie. His cell phone was zipped inside a jacket pocket and right now it was all he could do to keep the dog balanced as well as steer.

“She’ll have to wait,” he told himself, accelerating slowly. “We’ll be there in no time.”

The weary dog looked up at him with such expressive eyes Flint continued to reassure him with a friendly tone. “I promise, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

Wolfie’s broad black nose twitched. His head lifted a little more. His lips curled back and quivered as he began to stare into the darkening depths of the forest.

Flint felt the dog’s growl rather than heard it over the roar of the engine. Since there was no way he could drive and use a cell phone, there was certainly no way he could safely draw a gun. Therefore, he could either run for it or make a stand right here and take the chance the poor dog would survive the delay.

A shot echoed. That simplified his decision.
Run.

He hunched low over the front of the small vehicle, using his upper torso to help hold Wolfie in place, then gave the ATV more gas. A lot more gas. Whoever or whatever was lurking in ambush would never be able to overtake them on foot. All Flint had to do was keep from hitting a tree or dropping a wheel into a hidden depression and sending them both flying, and they’d survive.

Beneath his chest, he began to sense a lack of tension. “Hang in there, Wolfie,” he said. “Don’t give up on me now. We’re almost home.” The dog didn’t move. Didn’t struggle anymore.

Flint held his own breath.
No, not now. Not when we’re so close to Maggie.

He broke from the forest into a clearing. The sanctuary compound lay just ahead.

They’d made it.

Or had they?

SEVEN

T
he roaring rumble of the small engine drew Maggie out onto the front porch. When Mark tried to follow, she stopped him. “Stay in the house where it’s warm, honey. I’ll be right back.”

“But, Mama—”

“No. I said stay in there.”

His muffled reply as she shut the door sounded close enough to “Yes, ma’am” to be acceptable.

Fingers pressed to her lips, she watched the ATV speed across the yard and slide to a stop. She ran to meet it. “Is he...?”

“I thought I might have lost him, but he perked up when he heard your voice just now,” Flint said, dismounting and helping her lift the semilimp dog.

Maggie had latched on to Wolfie’s head and shoulders and was relieved when he began trying to lick her face. She would have loved to carry him into the house but knew better than to suggest it while Mark was present.

“Where do you want me to put him?” Flint asked.

“I don’t know. Um, I suppose around back. I can make him a bed of straw and watch him until the vet can drive over.” She eyed the glove. “How badly is he hurt?”

“He’d be better if he hadn’t pulled off his bandage and started the bleeding again.”

“Thanks for the first aid.”

It surprised her to see Flint shaking his head. “Don’t thank me. Somebody else wrapped his paw and tied him to a tree. I suppose they figured you’d be able to locate him easier that way.”

“Who?”

“Beats me. I saw boot tracks in the mud along the creek bank near where he was tied.” Flint sobered. “At least one other person had been out there, maybe more. I’d just decided the area was secure when Wolfie sensed something and started to growl.”

“Did you spot anybody?”

“No. But I trusted the dog’s instincts. Good thing, too. We were heading back when I heard a shot.”

“Were they aiming at you?” Maggie could tell he suspected so but was trying to play down the danger.

“Possibly.” Flint shrugged one shoulder. “I decided we’d better head back here on the double just in case. Better to play it safe.”

“Absolutely.” Maggie had already been anxious. Now she began trembling so badly she had trouble holding up her end of the dog. Thankfully, Flint stepped up to cradle the full weight.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s been a rough day.”

Light from the single bulb on the porch cast long shadows that didn’t extend around the side of the house. Flint pointed with his chin. “I know I outran that shooter, so how about turning on a few more lights? I’ll need to see where I’m going.”

“Yes. Right.” She turned back just as the front door burst open. Before she could catch her little boy, he was down the steps and racing barefoot toward his injured pet.

“Wolfie!”

Maggie screeched, “No!” but it was too late. Mark had reached Flint and the dog.

Flint grinned and lowered the squirming dog to the ground, kneeling beside him while the child buried his face in the long, thick fur and sobbed audibly.

The sight of father and son together tore at Maggie’s heart. Flint had apparently not figured things out yet, but he soon would, particularly once Mark looked at him with those Crawford-green eyes.

What could she do? How could she soften the blow? And how in the world was she going to keep Flint from showing anger in front of the impressionable child?

Standing close by and looking down on them, Maggie wondered if she should try to intervene. Even if she scooped up Mark and hurried him back to the house, Flint was sure to follow with the dog. Would that be so bad? It would not only be safer, but it beat letting her son linger in the yard when he was wearing nothing but pajamas.

It was time to clear the air. Get the drama over with and take the consequences. She’d dreaded this day for years, yet it was now being forced on her.

Silently, she stripped off her own jacket and wrapped it around the child while praying, “Father, give me strength.”

As she turned Mark and lifted him, she pressed his head to her shoulder to temporarily hide his face. “All right,” she said with a noisy sigh. “Let’s all go in the house and keep warm while I phone the vet.”

“The dog, too?” Flint asked.

“Yes. Can you manage him by yourself?”

“Sure. No problem. Now that he’s wide-awake I can always put him down for a minute if he causes too much trouble.”

Trouble?
she mused. Ha! If he thought the dog was the only thing going to cause trouble tonight, he was in for a real shock. Her stomach tied in knots. No matter how many times she had imagined this confrontation or rehearsed it in her mind, she wasn’t ready. Not even close.

The front door stood open. This was her last chance to postpone Flint’s rude awakening. If she shouldered in ahead of him and shooed her son away...

No. That was not only wrong, but it was cowardly. Flint was the one who had left her, not the other way around. His guilt was more than equal to hers. As he was about to find out.

* * *

Pausing at the threshold, Flint eased Wolfie down onto his remaining three good paws. He’d done his duty. He’d found Maggie’s dog and brought him home. The most sensible action now would be to bid her good-night and drive away. But what if she needed more help? Suppose she failed to get hold of the vet she’d mentioned? What then?

He couldn’t leave. Not yet. He straightened and stood tall, watching the dog limp into the main room and plop down on a small rug near the fireplace.

Maggie was fussing over the little boy, making motherly noises about slippers and a robe while the child tried to dodge past her to return to his pet. Flint had shut the door and was about to praise her for being a good mama when he caught his first clear glimpse of the child’s face.

The sight was literally staggering. His spine hit the doorjamb. His jaw hung slack. Words failed him. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. It felt as though he were looking into a mirror over fifteen years ago and seeing his own reflection.

Stunned, mute, he studied Mark. This was Maggie’s boy? How could they look so much alike? They had only once lost control. Why hadn’t she said something to him back then? Had she been so ashamed to have consorted with a Crawford that she’d tried to hide the truth from everybody?

Mark ducked past his mother and raced back to the dog, hitting his knees and gently hugging Wolfie’s neck. Only then did Flint manage to look at Maggie. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her lips were trembling.

She met his questioning gaze and mouthed,
I’m sorry
.

Flint nodded. His jaw clamped shut. There was still no adequate way to express his emotional upheaval short of stammering incoherently and making a worse fool of himself. No wonder so many people had grinned at him after he’d returned to Serenity. They knew something he didn’t. Their amusement at his expense was infuriating.

She took a tentative step closer to him. “I’m so sorry. I know I should have said something when you first came back, but...”

He wanted to shout at her. To berate her for so many omissions. To ask if she’d ever have owned up to the boy’s parentage if he hadn’t shown up again. But before he could decide where and how to begin, Mark called, “Mama! Look.”

Both adults pivoted toward the anxious child. He was cradling the hurt paw in his hands as blood dripped through his tiny fingers.

Maggie was the first to respond. She grabbed the paw and squeezed the edges just enough to slow the bleeding, then cast around, apparently looking for something with which to fashion a temporary bandage.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” Flint demanded.

“Outside with the other animal supplies. There’s a towel in the kitchen.” She indicated a doorway, then looked to her son. “Mark, honey, go wash your hands and bring Mommy a clean towel, okay?”

Instead of obeying, the boy stared at his reddened fingers and whimpered.

Flint strode into the kitchen, pulled several paper towels from a roll, wet one and grabbed a dry dish towel. Operating as if back in combat, he returned to the living room and thrust the towel at Maggie before crouching beside her to wipe the child’s hands.

He then shoved the used paper towels at Maggie, edged her aside, took a firm hold of the dog’s paw and said, “Go call your vet. And tell him to hurry. I’m not staying any longer than I have to.”

Given his uneasiness, Flint figured his best option was to concentrate on the task at hand and put everything else out of his mind. For now at any rate.

He’d almost succeeded when the little sandy-haired boy trained big green eyes on him and said, “Thank you for saving my dog, mister.”

“You’re welcome.”

That would have been the end of Flint’s communication if Mark had not gotten up and wrapped his little arms tightly around Flint’s neck.

Long seconds passed. Flint was astounded when his vision misted. He shifted his hold on the dog enough to free one arm and wrap it gently around his son.

Then he laid his face against Mark’s shoulder, mirroring the child’s stance, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Maggie could hardly function, let alone speak coherently, when the veterinarian’s answering machine picked up her call. She knew she was babbling instead of giving her usual concise report of conditions, but she couldn’t help herself.

A voice came on the line halfway through her first convoluted sentence. “Is this Maggie Morgan?”

“Yes!”

“I can hardly understand you. Calm down. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Wolfie’s hurt. His paw is bleeding something awful.”

“You know how vascular extremities are. Have you applied pressure?”

She glanced over at the tableau on the hearth rug. It was so touching, so tender, she could barely speak until she looked away. “Yes. But every time we let go it starts bleeding again.”

“I can’t stitch a dog’s pad. It won’t hold. Besides, it needs to heal from the inside out. How did it happen?”

“He jumped through a window.”

“A closed window? Again?”

Realizing she was nodding instead of answering verbally, Maggie gave a delayed “Yes.”

“All right. I’ll be right over. He may have other injuries as well as the foot. In the meantime, keep him quiet and keep putting pressure on the cut you can see.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

As she ended the call, she refocused on Flint. He had parted from Mark and was encouraging the boy to help him comfort Wolfie. Both father and son had their heads bowed. Mark’s open hands rested on the dog’s head while Flint continued to grip the paw.

Maggie heard her son’s “Amen” before he went on to inform Flint that he was the answer to an earlier prayer. “Mama didn’t want to pray for Wolfie, but I did.” Mark beamed at the man. “And you found him.”

“It’s my job to help hurt animals and protect the forest and lakes,” Flint explained.

“That’s what I wanna do when I grow up.”

In other words, they had only just met and already Mark wanted to be exactly like his daddy. Maggie tried to swallow the dry lump in her throat and failed. She coughed. Flint glanced up. Any fondness vanished as soon as he focused on her and asked, “Vet’s on his way?”

“Yes. Greg said he’d be here ASAP.”

“Greg Gogerty? I remember hearing that he was practicing around here. He’s Miss Inez’s grandson, right?”

“Yes. He treats both large and small animals.”

A sardonic chuckle from Flint surprised her until he explained, “I hope he has some hefty assistants. As I recall, Greg was a scrawny little guy.”

She wanted to snap back with
So were you
but refrained. No use antagonizing Flint, particularly since he seemed to be handling his meeting with his son far better than expected. Maggie was intensely grateful. She’d much rather take the brunt of the man’s understandable anger than have it foisted on her innocent child.

“I’m sure Greg can handle Wolfie,” she said. “They know each other. This isn’t the first time that dog has sailed through glass.”

“I sure hope it’s the last,” Flint said. “I’d expect him to be smarter than that.”

“He’s just very protective. I guess he thought the wolves were sneaking up on me.”

“You’re sticking with that story?”

Her brow knitted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look. I didn’t mind searching for your dog while I was off duty. But if you intend to send me on a wild-goose chase, you’re going to have to come up with something more believable than wolves.”

“I
heard
them,” she insisted.

“Uh-huh. Then why didn’t I see a single track?”

Maggie didn’t have a ready answer. She certainly wasn’t going to suggest that perhaps he lacked skill. “How should I know? Wolfie was lost, just like I said, wasn’t he?”

“In a manner of speaking. I told you somebody had already found him. What I don’t understand is why they didn’t bring him back to you then.”

“Maybe they were afraid to let him walk.”

“And maybe he was bait to lure me out there so they could take more potshots at me.”

“That’s crazy!” She threw her hands up in frustration.

“From where I stand, it seems plausible. It was your story and your dog.”

“I’d never purposely hurt any animal, especially not one who’s like a member of my family.”

“Maybe not. But I can see you taking advantage of an accident.”

Astonished, she fisted her hands on her hips. “Why in the world would I do that?”

Instead of answering in so many words, Flint turned to glance at his son and heard Mark whispering to the injured dog. Suddenly Maggie understood. He actually believed she’d abuse one of God’s creatures in order to preserve her secret. How
dare
he?

The realization stunned her. “How can you think so little of me? I thought I knew you, Flint.”

“Me? I trusted you, Maggie.” He lowered his voice and turned his head to keep what followed more private. “I loved you once. There was a time when I’d have decked the first person who’d suggested you weren’t perfect.”

“You sure had a funny way of showing it.”

“Meaning?”

She heard an approaching vehicle and started across the room to answer the door. “I stayed right here in Serenity, waiting and hoping,” she shot back at him. “You knew exactly where to find me.”