A Cowboy to Trust, page 14
His Apache mother had given each of her sons an Apache name when they were born. Even though it wasn’t on his birth certificate, she’d called him Cougar. He remembered how she had extolled his cougar medicine, and how she made him realize how important it was. Even though he’d only been six years old when she died, her passionate remarks had made a lasting impression on him.
The past unfolded gently before him as he stood there. His mother had always called him Cougar because Jim was a white man’s name, she’d told him teasingly. In her eyes and heart, he was like the cougar, and he knew he would learn how to become one because the cougar was the guardian spirit that had come into this life with him. Jim recalled the special ceremony his mother’s people had had for him when he was five years old. Since she was Chiricahua, they’d traveled back to that reservation and her people had honored him. The old, crippled medicine man had given him a leather thong with a small beaded pouch attached to it. Inside the pouch was his “medicine.”
To this day, Jim wore that medicine bag around his neck. The beading had long ago fallen off and he’d had to change the leather thong yearly. Whether it was crazy or not, Jim had worn that medicine bag from the day it had been placed on him during that ceremony. The medicine man had told him that the fur of a cougar was in the bag, that it was his protector, teacher and guardian. Sighing, Jim looked down at the rapidly melting midday snow. Maybe that was why that mountain lion never charged him when he came upon him that fateful day so long ago. The cat had simply looked at him through wise, yellow eyes and waited. It was as if he knew Jim had to kill him, so he stood there, magnificent and proud, awaiting his fate.
Suddenly Jim felt as if the claw he wore next to his small medicine bag was burning in his chest. Without thinking, Jim rubbed that area of his chest. He wondered if this jaguar sensed his cougar medicine. He knew that the great cats were related to one another. Was that why she chose not to charge him? His Anglo side said that was foolish, but his Apache blood said that he was correct in this assumption. The jaguar saw him as one of them. She would not kill one of her own kind. And then a crazy smile tugged at a corner of Jim’s mouth. Rachel must have jaguar medicine, for it was this cat that had saved her from a fiery death at the accident that occurred less than a mile down the road. It was this cat that had leaped into the middle of the highway to stop her.
With a shake of his head, he knew life was more mystical than practical at times. He recalled the dream Rachel had had of the jaguar turning into a warrior woman. Gazing up at the animal, he smiled. There was no question he was being given a second chance. This time he wasn’t going to kill. He was going to trap her and have her taken to an area where no Anglo’s rifle could rip into her beautiful gold-and-black fur.
Remembering Rachel, he glanced at his watch. To his surprise, fifteen minutes had already flown by! Jim wished he could slow down time and remain here, just watching the jaguar, who had finished her meal and was licking one paw with her long, pink tongue.
* * *
Rachel had just reached the snow-covered meadow when to her horror she saw two cowboys emerge from the other end of it. Halting her horse, she realized it was Bo and Chet Cunningham and they had spotted her. Hands tightening on the reins, Rachel was torn by indecision. Should she try and outrun them? Her horse danced nervously beneath her, which wasn’t like the animal at all. When she saw the rifles they carried on their saddles and the grim looks on their unshaven faces, she felt leery and decided to stand her ground. When the two men saw her, they spurred their mounts forward, the horses slipping and sliding as they thundered across the small meadow.
“Who the hell are you?” Bo demanded, jerking hard on the reins when he reached her. His horse grunted, opened its mouth to escape the pain of the bit and slid down on its hindquarters momentarily.
Rachel’s horse leaped sideways. Steadying the animal, she glared at Bo. The larger of the two brothers, he looked formidable in his black Stetson, sheepskin coat and red bandanna. Danger prickled at Rachel and she put a hand on her horse’s neck to keep her calm.
“I’m Rachel Donovan. Your brother—”
“A Donovan!” Chet snarled, pulling up on the other side of her horse.
Suddenly Rachel and her lightweight Arabian were trapped by two beefy thirteen-hundred-pound quarter horses. Bo’s eyes turned merciless. “What the hell you doin’ on our property, bitch?” he growled. His hand shot out.
Giving a small cry of surprise, Rachel felt his fingers tangle in her long, thick hair. Her scalp radiated with pain as he gave her a yank, nearly unseating her from the saddle. She pulled back on the reins so her mare wouldn’t leap forward.
“Oww!” she cried, “Let me go!”
Breathing savagely, Bo wrapped his fingers a little tighter in her hair. “You bossy bitch. What the hell you doin’ on Cunningham property? You’re not welcomed over here.”
She could smell whiskey on his breath as he leaned over, his face inches from hers. Hanging at an angle, with only her legs keeping her aboard her nervous horse, Rachel tried to think. As the pain in her scalp intensified, the feral quality in Bo’s eyes sent a sheet of fear through her.
“Let’s get ’er down,” Chet snapped. “Let’s teach her a lesson she won’t forget, Bo. A little rape oughta keep her in line, wouldn’t ya say?”
Rachel cried out in terror. Without thinking, she raised her hand to slap Bo’s away. Knocking her arm away, Bo cursed and balled his right hand into a fist. Before she could protect herself, she saw his fist swing forward. Suddenly the side of her head exploded in stars, light and pain.
She was falling. Semiconscious, she felt the horse bolt from beneath her. Landing on her back, she hit the ground hard, and her breath was torn from her. She saw Chet leap from his horse, his face twisted into a savage grin of confidence as he approached her. She struggled to sit up but he straddled her with his long, powerful legs, slamming her back down into the red mud and snow. She felt his hands like vises on her wrists, pulling them above her head. Screaming and kicking out, she tried to buck him off her body, but he had her securely pinned. Grinning triumphantly at her, he placed his hand on the open throat of her shirt and gave a savage yank. The material ripped with a sickening sound.
“No!” Rachel shrieked. “Get off me!” She managed to get one hand free and she struck at Chet. She heard Bo laugh as the blow landed on the side of Chet’s head.
“Ride ’er strong, brother. Hold on, I’ll dismount and come and help you.”
Panic turned to overwhelming terror. Sobbing, Rachel fought on, pummeling Chet’s face repeatedly until he lifted his arms to protect himself.
At the same time, she heard Bo give a warning scream.
“Look out! A cougar! There’s that cougar comin’!”
As Chet slammed Rachel down to the ground again, her head snapped back. Blood flowed from her nose and as she tried to move, she felt darkness claiming her. Chet dragged himself off her and ran for his horse, which danced nervously next to where she lay in the snow.
Bo cursed and jerked his horse around as the large cat hurtled toward them.
“Son of a bitch!” he yelled to Chet, and he made a grab for his rifle. His horse shied sideways once it caught sight of the charging cat coming directly at him.
Chet gave a cry as he remounted, his horse bucking violently beneath him as he clung to the saddle horn. The animal was wild with fear and trying to run.
Rachel rolled onto her stomach, dazed. The jaguar was charging directly down upon them. For a moment, she thought she was seeing things, but there was no way she could deny the reality of the huge cat’s remarkable agility and speed, the massive power in her thick, short body as she made ground-covering strides right at them.
Snow and mud flew in sheets around the cat as she ran. Then suddenly the jaguar growled, and Rachel cried out as the sound reverberated through her entire being.
“Kill it!” Chet screeched, trying to stop his horse. He yanked savagely on one rein, causing his horse to begin to circle. “Kill it!” he howled again.
Bo pulled his horse to a standstill and made a grab for his rifle. But before he could clear the weapon from the scabbard, the jaguar leaped directly at him.
Rachel saw the cat’s thick back legs flex as she leaped, saw the primal intent in her gold eyes rimmed in black. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Rachel heard herself gasp and she raised her arms to protect herself from Bo’s horse, which was dancing sideways next to her in order to escape the charge. Mud and snow flew everywhere, pelting Rachel as she watched the cat arch gracefully through the air directly at Bo, her huge claws bared like knives pulled from sheaths.
Bo gave a cry of surprise as the jaguar landed on the side of his horse. His mount reared and went over backward, carrying rider and cat with him. As Rachel rolled out of the way and jumped to her feet, she heard another shout. It was Jim’s voice!
Staggering dazedly, Rachel looked toward where Jim was flying down the snow-covered slope at a hard gallop, his face stony with anger. The snarl of the jaguar behind her snagged Rachel’s failing attention. Her knees weakened as she turned. To her horror, she saw the jaguar take one vicious swipe at the downed horse and rider. Bo cried out and the horse screamed, its legs flailing wildly as it tried to avoid another attack by the infuriated jaguar.
Within seconds, the jaguar leaped away, taking off toward the timberline at a dead run. Though Bo was on the ground his horse had managed to get to its feet and run away, back toward the ranch. Chet had gotten his horse under control finally, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t get his rifle out of its sheath.
Bo leaped to his feet with a curse. He glared as Jim slid his horse to a stop and dismounted. “Get that damn cougar before he gets away!” Bo shouted, pointing toward the forest where the cat had disappeared once again.
Ignoring his brother, Jim ran up to Rachel. When he saw the blood flowing down across her lips and chin, the bruise marks along her throat, her shirt torn and hanging open, rage tunneled up through him. He reached out to steady her and she sagged into his arms with a small, helpless cry. Gripping her hard, he eased her to the ground. Breathing raggedly he glanced up at Bo, who was looking down at his left leg, where one of his leather chaps had been ripped away. The meadow looked like a battlefield. Blood was all over the place.
“Are you all right, Rachel?” Jim asked urgently, touching her head and examining her.
“Y-yes....” Rachel whispered faintly.
“What happened? Did the jaguar—”
“No,” she rattled, her voice cracking. “Bo hit me. They saw me, trapped me between their horses. Your brother jerked me by my hair. When he went for my throat to haul me off my horse, I tried to shove his arm away. That’s when Bo hit me.” Blinking, Rachel held Jim’s darkening gaze. “Chet tried to rape me. Bo was coming to help him until the jaguar charged....” Gripping his hand, she rasped, “Jim, that jaguar came out of nowhere. She protected me. I—I...they were going to rape me.... They thought I was alone. They didn’t give me a chance to explain why I was on their property. Bo and Chet just attacked.”
“Don’t move,” Jim rasped.
Rachel watched dazedly as Jim leaped to his feet. The attack of the jaguar had left her shaking. Terror still pounded through her and she didn’t want Jim to leave. In four strides, he approached Bo, grabbing him by the collar of his sheepskin coat.
“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Jim snarled, yanking Bo so hard that his neck snapped back. He saw his brother’s face go stormy.
“Get your hands off me!”
“Not a chance,” Jim breathed savagely. Then he doubled his fist and hit Bo with every ounce of strength he had. Fury pumped through him as he felt Bo’s nose crack beneath the power of his assault. His brother crumpled like a rag doll.
Chet yelled at him to stop, but kept his fractious horse at a distance. “You can’t hit him!” he shrieked.
Jim hunkered over Bo, who sat up, holding his badly bleeding nose. “You stay down or next time it’ll be your jaw,” he warned thickly. Bo remained on the ground.
Straightening up, Jim glared at Chet. “Get the hell out of here,” he ordered.
“But—”
“Now!” Jim thundered, his voice echoing around the small meadow. Jabbing his finger at Chet, he snarled, “You tell Father that this cat is under federal protection. The fish and game department is going to come in and trap it and take it to another area. If either of you think you’re going to kill that jaguar, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen. You got that?”
Chet glared at him, trying to hold his dancing horse in place. “Jaguar? You’re crazy! That was a cougar. We saw it with our own eyes!”
Blinking in confusion, Jim looked over at Rachel. When he saw her sitting in the snow, packing some of it against the right side of her swollen face and bleeding nose, he wanted to kill Bo for hurting her. Leaning down, he grabbed his brother by his black hair. “You sick son of a bitch,” he snarled in his face. “You had no right to do that to Rachel—to any woman!” He saw Bo’s face tighten in pain as he gripped his hair hard. “How does it feel?” Jim rasped. “Hurts, doesn’t it? You ever think about that before you beat up on someone, Bo?”
“Let go of me!”
“You bastard.” Jim shoved him back into the snow. “Now you lay there and don’t you move!” He turned and strode back to Rachel. Leaning down, his hands on her shoulders, he met her tear-filled eyes.
“Hang on,” he whispered unsteadily, “I’m calling for help.”
“Just get Bob Granby. I didn’t make the call yet, Jim....”
Nodding, he went over to his horse and opened one of his saddlebags. His gaze nailed Bo, who was sitting up, nursing his bloody nose and sulking. Pulling out a small first-aid kit, he went back to Rachel.
“Get my homeopathic first-aid kit,” she begged. “I can stop the bleeding and the swelling with it.”
He went to her horse and got the small plastic kit. Kneeling beside her, his hand still shaking with rage, he opened the kit for her. “I’m sorry,” he rasped, meaning it. As she opened one of the vials and poured several white pellets into her hand, he felt a desire to kill Bo and Chet for what they’d done to her. Rachel’s cheek was swollen and he knew she’d have a black eye soon. Worse, her nose looked puffy, too, and he wondered if it was broken. Setting the kit down, he waited until she put the pellets in her mouth.
“Let me see if your nose is broken,” he urged as he placed one hand behind her head. It was so easy, so natural between them. The tension he’d seen in her, the wariness in her eyes fled the moment he touched her. A fierce love for her swept through him. As gently as possible, he examined her fine, thin nose.
“Good,” he whispered huskily, trying to smile down at her. “I don’t think it’s broken.”
Rachel shut her eyes. With Jim close, she felt safe. “Did you see what happened?” she quavered.
“Yeah, I saw all of it,” he told her grimly. Placing a dressing against her nose, he showed her how to hold it in place. “Stay here. I want to make that call to Bob and a second one to the sheriff.”
Eyes widening, Rachel looked up at the grim set of his face. “The sheriff?”
“Damn straight. Bo’s going up on assault charges. He’s not going to hit you and get away with it,” he growled as he rose to his feet.
Rachel closed her eyes once again. Her head, cheek and nose were throbbing. Within minutes, the homeopathic remedy stopped the bleeding and took away most of the pain in her cheekbone area. As she sat there in the wet snow, she began to shiver and realized shock was setting in. Lying down, she closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on taking slow, deep breaths to ward it off. The snort and stomp of nervous horses snagged her consciousness. She heard Jim’s low, taut voice on the walkie-talkie, Chet’s high, nervous voice as he talked to Bo in the background.
What had happened? Chet said a cougar had charged them. Yet Rachel had seen the female jaguar. And how had Jim known she was in trouble? He’d come off that mountain at a dangerous rate of speed. It was all so crazy and confusing, she thought, feeling blackness rim her vision. She hoped the homeopathic remedy would pull her out of the shock soon. It should. All she had to do was lie quietly for a few minutes and let it help her body heal itself from the trauma.
More than anything, Rachel wanted to be home. The violence in Bo’s eyes had scared her as nothing else ever had. She knew that if the jaguar had not charged him, if Jim hadn’t arrived when he did, they would have raped her—simply because she was a Donovan. The thought sickened her. Jim was right—the sheriff must be called. She had no problem laying charges against Bo and Chet. If she had her way, it would be the last time Bo ever cocked his fist at a woman. The last time. Judging from the murderous look in Jim’s eyes, he was ready to beat his older brother to a pulp. Rachel had seen the savagery in Jim’s face, but she knew he wasn’t like his two older brothers. He’d hit Bo just enough to disable him so he couldn’t hurt either of them in the meantime. Unlike his brothers, Jim had shown remarkable restraint.
A fierce love welled up through Rachel as she lay there in the cooling snow. Though she felt very cold and emotionally fragile at the moment, the heat of the sun upon her felt good. No one had ever hurt her like this in her life. The shock had gone deep within her psyche. The last thing Rachel expected was to be physically attacked. Now all she wanted to do was get Bob Granby up here with the humane trap. And then she wanted to go home—and heal. More than anything, Rachel needed Jim right now, his arms around her, making a safe place for her in a world gone suddenly mad.
