The Cougar by Lindsay McKenna

Author:Lindsay McKenna
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2011-06-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

“Dammit all to hell,” Chet shouted as he entered the ranch house. He jerked off his Stetson and slammed the door behind him. Dressed in a sheepskin coat, red muffler and thick, protective leather gloves, he headed toward his father, who had just wheeled into the living room.

Jim was rubbing his hands in the warmth of the huge, open fireplace at one end of the living room when Chet stormed in. His older brother had a glazed look in his eyes, a two-day beard on his cheeks and an agitated expression on his face.

“Pa, that dammed cougar has killed another of our cows up in the north pasture!” Chet growled, throwing his coat and gloves on the leather couch. “Half of her is missing. She was pregnant, too.”

Frank frowned, stopped his wheelchair near the fireplace where Jim was standing. “We’ve lost a cow every two weeks for the last four months this way,” he said, running his long, large-knuckled hands through his thick white hair.

As Jim turned to warm his back, Chet joined them at the fireplace, opening his own cold hands toward the flames. Chet’s eyes were red and Jim could smell liquor on his breath. His brother was drinking like Frank used to drink before contracting diabetes, he realized with concern. Jim sighed. The last three days, since he’d come back from the Donovan wedding party, things had been tense around the house. He was glad his forty-eight hours of duty had begun shortly thereafter, keeping him on call for two days with the ambulance and allowing him to eat and sleep at the fire station down at Sedona. Luckily, things had been quiet, and he’d been able to settle down from the last major confrontation with his father.

“Have you seen the spoor, Chet?” Jim asked.

“Well, shore I have!” he said, wiping his running nose with the back of his flannel sleeve. “Got spoor all over the place. There’s about a foot of snow up there. The tracks are good this time.”

“We need to get a hunting party together,” Frank growled at them. “I’m tired of losing a beef every other week to this cat.”

“Humph, we’re losin’ two of ’em, Pa. That cat’s smart—picks on two for one.”

“You were always good at hunting cougar,” Frank said, looking up at Jim. “Why don’t you drive up there and see what you can find out? Arrange a hunting party?”

Jim was relieved to have something to do outside the house. Usually he rode fence line, did repairs and helped out wherever he could with ranching duties. His father had ten wranglers who did most of the hard work, but Jim always looked for ways to stay out of the house when he was home between his bouts of duty at the fire station.

“Okay. How’s the road back into that north pasture, Chet?”

“Pretty solid,” he answered, rubbing his hands briskly. “The temps was around twenty degrees out there midday. Colder than hell. No snow, but cold. We need the snow for the water or we’re going to have drought again,” he muttered, his brows moving downward.

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