Avenger (Doms of Mountain Bend Book 2) Read online

  She shook her head, sending her waist-length braid swinging. “He’ll be here any minute. His wife…”

  “Shit, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Don’t swear.”

  “Don’t screw him,” he shot back then swore under his breath when she blanched. “Sorry,” he mumbled, shamefaced.

  That rich married asshole was the only person who could push him to the point of showing such disrespect to his mother. Wiyaka was full-blooded Indian, half Sioux, half Hopi, and even though they’d left the reservation several years ago, she had continued to raise him in the ways of their people, including to respect his elders.

  “You’re such a good boy, Dakota. I don’t deserve you. If only I could give you the life you deserve.” Her youthful face reflected the aching sadness he often heard in her voice.

  “All I need is you.” He never asked who the white man was who had fathered him, never cared enough to know. She’d mentioned a few men who “helped” her get jobs and a place to live when she’d set out on her own but had never offered more than that. Heavy footsteps clomping down the hall of their run-down apartment building propelled him toward the door. “I’ll return when he’s gone.”

  Dakota didn’t look back as he stormed out and took the emergency exit to the stairs that led down to the rear alley, but some sixth sense urged him not to go far. They lived in a poor part of Phoenix, but it wasn’t the gangs or riffraff that scared him. That slimy bastard who thought his money allowed him special privileges, like using a desperate young mother for rough sex and as a punching bag, worried the hell out of him.

  He walked down to the street, paused then slid down the wall to sit and watch for Vincent to leave his building, and his mother. Night had fallen but not the temperature, and he was sweating in the arid heat, or maybe because he couldn’t rid himself of the itch between his shoulders telling him all was not right.

  An hour later, he stood just as Vincent dashed by without noticing him and jumped into his fancy car parked down the block. Alarmed at the older man’s ashen face, Dakota ran inside and took the stairs two at a time. When he barged into their apartment, the metallic smell of blood almost sent him to his knees.

  Panic and fear unlike anything he’d ever experienced wrenched a cry from his stricken throat. “Mom!” Moving much slower, he went down the short hall and opened her bedroom door, his blood turning to ice in his veins at the red splatter that met his eyes before he saw his mother sprawled in a pool of blood on the bed. So much blood…

  Dakota jerked awake with a gasp, running a shaky hand over his damp brow as he tried to calm his racing heart, the oath he’d made that night playing in his head. Nothing and no one will stop me from seeking to avenge my mother’s death. “Fuck.” Swinging his legs out from the twisted sheets, he got out of bed and grabbed his jeans from the foot, remembering that vow as clearly as if he’d made it yesterday. He yanked them on without bothering to get a pair of underwear and stormed out of the house. Pausing on the porch, he struggled to take a deep breath of cool midnight air but failed to get past the tight constriction of his throat to fill his lungs. Knowing there was only one thing that could help him shake the dregs of the nightmare of his mother’s murder, he strode toward the horse stable.

  He lifted a hand to Scotty, the cowhand on night duty, riding the perimeter of the barns, to let him know everything was fine. Any of the employees on the ranch he co-owned with his closest friends, Shawn and Clayton, who had been with them longer than a few months, had seen him hit the stables wearing nothing but jeans in the dead of night.

  Entering the ten-stalled barn, his body taut with rage, muscles quivering from holding himself in check, he strode straight to Phantom’s stall. “Yeah, you’re as ready as I am, aren’t you, boy?” Grabbing a handful of the dark-dapple-gray Morgan’s black mane, he swung up on his back and rode him outside. As soon as they cleared the stable yard, he nudged the stallion with his knees and bent low over his neck, relishing the fast takeoff and massive, bunching muscles under him.

  Visions of his mother’s blood-soaked body stretched out on her bed swam in his head as the ground sped by under Phantom’s pounding hooves. The full moon offered enough illumination to make out the silhouette of far-off mountains and wooded areas to his right and left as they tore across the vast range. His straight, shoulder-length hair whipped around his face as he forced himself to pull up the image of Vincent’s face as he’d last seen the man who had stabbed his mother to death. It was easy to do, as he would never forget and never rest until he’d exacted revenge. Not knowing anything else about him had made that quest difficult the last twenty-plus years, but that didn’t deter him.

  His impatience for justice had simmered the first decade when he’d been too young to do much, and the technology now available hadn’t existed. The cops were no help, shoving his mother’s case into the cold-case files just three months later.

  The good priest, Father Joe, had stepped in to help him, Shawn, and Clayton when they had fled their abusive foster parent one night, contacting his friend, Buck Cooper to take them in. Relocating to Mountain Bend, Idaho from Phoenix, the only home he’d known, had been the best thing to happen to Dakota in a long time, but, back then, his rage had kept him from appreciating Father Joe’s and Buck’s inquiries on his behalf as much as he should have. He remembered hiding out in the woods when they skipped school, and Buck’s “positive reinforcement” techniques of extra chores that worked better than any corporal discipline their former guardians had implemented.

  Dakota tugged on Phantom’s mane to slow the horse to a trot, his perspiration-damp body finally cooling, along with his rioting emotions from the rush of night air and rigorous gallop under the star-studded sky. His chest tightened as he recalled losing Buck to a massive heart attack a few years ago. He still missed the man he’d grown to love who had taught him so much, not only the ranching and farming business but how to deal with his anger issues without lashing out at those around him.

  Yeah, he thought, turning Phantom around by pressing his knees into the Morgan’s heaving sides, he owed Buck a lot. But not enough to discontinue his quest of unearthing Vincent’s full name and whereabouts and making him pay for snuffing out his mother’s young life.

  Dakota had a life here in Idaho he loved, friends he cared a great deal for, who kept warning him about everything he would lose if he continued down his current path toward vengeance. Even knowing that included them, since both Shawn and Clayton were in law enforcement, he’d made a vow twenty-one years, eight months, and six days ago he still intended to honor.

  Nothing and no one would stop him from seeking to avenge his mother’s death.

  ****

  Poppy slipped out onto the front porch of her small cabin, still acclimating to her new, temporary home and the different climate. After arriving in Idaho a few days ago, she didn’t hesitate to jump right into her job overseeing the Bar S sheep ranch, enlisting the part-time college help when she had questions instead of going to her boss. The gruff man who had handed her the keys to the cabin, stating he’d show her around later, didn’t realize who he had hired. Poppy wasn’t one to sit idly by when she could get down to work, and she enjoyed taking the hands-on approach in learning the ropes of Jerry Sanders’ operation as much as getting dirty tending his five-hundred-plus sheep herd. She’d seen little of her recalcitrant boss since then but had already informed him she wouldn’t let him take his surly disposition out on her from here on out. He’d seemed surprised she called him on it but nodded in agreement. Life was too damn short to waste walking around on eggshells when there were things to do.

  Settling in the rickety rocker she’d found exploring the barn loft, she gazed up at the inky sky and bright stars. Resting her head against the chair, she toed the porch and let the slow glide lull her into relaxing until movement beyond the wide expanse separating the cabin from the neighbor’s pastureland caught her attention.

  The silhouette forms of a horse and r
ider speeding across the field drew her to her feet as goose bumps popped up along her bare arms and legs. Intrigued, she jogged toward the fence line in bad need of repair and leaned on a post, squinting to get a better look in the shadows cast by the bright, full moon. Her breath caught as she made out the wild, pagan appearance of the bareback rider, a man as big as the horse carrying him over the rough ground at breakneck speed. How he managed to stay on, let alone control the animal was beyond her, but her heart flipped watching the sheer beauty of the pair with their manes flying about them.

  They slowed then turned and headed back in the direction they’d come from at a much more sedate pace, the man’s posture ramrod straight as he seemed to know his way around in the dark without pause.

  Interesting neighbor, and one Poppy found herself fascinated by as she returned to the cabin with her pulse still pumping hotly.

  Chapter One

  Poppy rolled out of bed and glanced at the clock with a groan. A week later, and she was still waking from restless dreams about the neighboring midnight cowboy. Telling herself she was just horny after the past year of celibacy due to her illness wasn’t working. Now she had to rush to meet with Jerry, who had finally decided he should go over a few things with her.

  She got rid of the cobwebs standing under the hot shower, and, by the time she poured a cup of coffee and stepped outside into the bright glare of the morning sun, she was ready to take on the lion in his den. Other than he was a widower, she knew little about her boss, except the sixty-something-year-old man preferred solitude. According to comments from the part-time college hands she supervised, woe to anyone who bothered Sanders when he was in one of his snits.

  Jerry’s attitude didn’t bother her. Everyone was entitled to bad days. What did bug her was the state of disrepair his barns and fencing were in, most of it from a lack of regular upkeep. Factor in age and weather, and the place was literally falling down around him. As she followed the path alongside a row of fragrant apple trees up to the back side of his house, she wondered why he didn’t show more interest in his property. At least the livestock appeared to have ample food and water and basic care.

  Instead of going around to the front and entering his office from the drive, she rapped on the back glass door then opened it a crack to call inside. “Morning, Jerry.” She paused, waiting for him to appear, not surprised when she saw him round a corner and stomp through the living area toward the slider with a scowl. Smiling, she waved.

  He slid the door wider, his gray hair in tufts, wire-framed glasses perched on his nose, and irritation evident in his snapping brown eyes. “You’re late and at the wrong entrance. Go—”

  “Nope. I need you to come out so I can show you everything that needs to get done.” Poppy looked past him and spotted a large portrait of a beautiful woman hanging above the fireplace. “Is that your wife? I’m sorry for your loss.” He’d never mentioned his marriage, but the pain flashing across his face before he masked it hinted at a possible reason for his surly disposition.

  “Your job is to overlook the care of the sheep, not my property.”

  “I can’t do a good job of that unless the animals have decent shelter that’s not falling down around them, or fencing adequate enough to keep them safe from wild predators. Since I’ve been here, six have gone missing overnight, and we haven’t found them. I’m assuming they were a wolf or wildcat’s dinner.” She sipped her coffee and let that sink in. His wince indicated he cared, which gave her hope he would come out of his funk enough to start repairs.

  Jerry huffed. “Fine. Let’s go.” He came out the door, a black-and-white border collie dashing out behind him. “Great. Now Otis will want to tag along, and I’ll never get him back inside.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you have a working dog?” She stretched a hand out to Otis, who licked her fingers, his tail whipping back and forth before he took off toward the barns. “It looks like he’s eager to work.”

  “He stays with me.”

  Poppy opened her mouth to argue then clamped it shut again, seeing the way he watched the dog with longing. She suspected Otis was the only companion he had allowed himself since losing his wife, and he now couldn’t bear to separate from the dog. She never imagined she would need to fall back on her psychology education as well as her animal husbandry when she accepted this job.

  “Okay, but if you don’t agree to get someone out here to fix the fences and replace the roof on the shelter ASAP, I’m going to borrow him to round up your sheep when they take off.” She left that threat out there as they reached the barn and sheep housing, and she saw how happy Otis was out in the pasture, running circles around the flock, and the good job he did keeping the babies close to their ewes.

  By the time Jerry returned to the house, taking Otis with him, he’d reluctantly agreed to get someone out to work on repairs. Poppy decided she had to be content with that for now, and turned her attention to brushing up on shearing, which would start soon.

  ****

  Poppy braced her arms on the fence rail and laughed when Nathan, one of the hands, released the young sheep and the now wool-free ewe bolted, as if a pack of coyotes were on her tail. As cute as she thought the sheep were with full, curly coats, they were even more adorable shaved. She was glad she had arrived at the Bar S in time to witness the spring wool-gathering, a daunting, time-consuming process, she mused as another one was let go to dart into the pasture. She was equally happy her duties didn’t include helping with the physically demanding chore. As good as she was feeling, there was no way she possessed the strength and stamina needed to wrestle a three-hundred-pound male Merino sheep or even one half that size.

  Stifling a sigh of self-pity, she pushed away from the fence. With a thumbs-up gesture of approval to Mick, an older man Jerry hired to oversee both the process and gathering of wool, she left the corral and returned to her cabin where she slid behind the wheel of her cherry-red Outlander Sport. One of the perks of her corporate management job had been the high-end pay that made purchasing the SUV possible. As much as she enjoyed all the bells and whistles that had come with the manager of acquisitions position she’d held, and their support in keeping her on and then giving her a year to decide if she wanted to return, she didn’t miss her last job in Houston. Changing careers to ranch manager and making the move to Idaho to work in the complete opposite capacity of what she’d been doing for almost three years had boosted her spirits in the two weeks she’d been here. Whether from the outdoor, fresh-air work environment, spending more time with animals than people, or the change of scenery from heavy traffic and congested buildings to wide-open spaces and small towns, she didn’t know and didn’t waste time analyzing the data.

  Life was too short to piddle away hours on meaningless endeavors, especially when there was still so much to learn, to do, to enjoy.

  Like figure out who their sexy neighbor was, and why she couldn’t forget seeing him that night. The dark silhouette of untamed wildness the pair had portrayed matched her restless spirit and left her itching to solve the mystery of his identity. She could ask Jerry, but it was more fun to prolong her interest and curiosity. Dragging out her quest to learn more about him would help occupy her mind and divert her from the constant fidgetiness she lived with. It was a curse to grow restless and bored easily, to need stimulating, new experiences to stay satisfied.

  Poppy drove toward the small town of Mountain Bend, recalling the day she’d received the cancer diagnosis and how she’d tried to dispel the grip of fear cramping her abdomen while attempting to lighten the grave expressions on her parents’ faces. Come on, Mom, Dad, you know I’ve been craving a new challenge lately. She winced, remembering that flippant remark, and the tears swimming in her mother’s eyes because she always suspected Poppy’s glib shallowness hid her insecurities. Poppy never wasted time trying to analyze why she couldn’t stick with one thing for long or one person. She was happy with who she was and didn’t want to change.

  Which was
why she’d never let on how difficult the chemo treatments and the rejected bone marrow transplants were for her to cope with. Until now, she’d been blessed with near-perfect health that afforded her a physically active lifestyle rife with mentally stimulating challenges. The disappointment and worry those rejections caused her, and the weeks of lying around too sick to do anything except flick through channels on the television or sleep, had taken an emotional toll she’d struggled to hide from the two people she loved the most.

  Put it to rest, Flynn. That was Poppy’s standard rebuke whenever she found herself edging toward self-pity. Switching gears, she slowed, yielding to a small group of white-tailed deer sprinting across the road. She loved watching their sleek, graceful forms and envied their freedom and ability to spend their days running across the prairies. Outside of Houston, it was easy to find this kind of space and wildlife, but her busy schedule hadn’t allowed much time to take those long, leisurely drives. Here, she could relax and enjoy a sunny afternoon in the country while still working. The shearing gave her an opportunity to fill Jerry’s list from the feedstore and pick up a hamburger with the works. She never missed an opportunity to indulge the return of her appetite.

  Passing the city limits sign for Mountain Bend, Poppy couldn’t help grinning reading population 2603, the same reaction as when she’d entered the small town the first time upon arriving. Once she returned home, she would make a point of taking day trips to scout out the rural towns in Southeast Texas. Maybe she would find one she liked enough to move there, close enough to visit her parents regularly, big enough to find a job. With her experience now including ranching, she shouldn’t have too much trouble.

  Providing she stayed healthy.

  Following Jerry’s directions, Poppy drove down Main Street and made a note to run into the mom-and-pop grocery on her way out after visiting a few of the quaint gift shops and the library. Turning at the end of Main, she found the drive-through burger joint she remembered seeing and idled at the large, mouth-watering menu.