Boji Stones Read online

  “I just can’t shake the feeling we’re being watched.”

  He flipped on the lights and put the truck in gear. “You mean besides the quacking nurses and security officers with rubber hoses?”

  She forced herself to smile knowing it was expected. “Yes besides them.”

  Hank turned his head as he backed out. “Ain’t nothing for you to worry about.” As the car slid out of the parking lot, he reached behind him and patted the twenty-two resting in the cab’s gun rack. “I almost wish the son of a bitch would try something.”

  She glanced at the glove compartment and knew a handgun rested inside as well. For once Maureen was glad that she or her dad had never converted Hank over to gun control.

  Hank looked in the rearview mirror then pulled into traffic.

  “Is anyone following us?”

  He glanced in the mirror again. “About four cars pulled out the same time we did but I did notice a black sedan put on his lights as we backed up. May be something. May be nothing. What did the car that rammed you look like?”

  “Black Hummer.”

  “He would have ditched it by now.”

  She nodded and tried to control a tremor of fear.

  “We’ll know better once we pull out on the highway.” Hank reached over and patted her hand. “If he is back there we have a decision to make. Do we call 9-1-1 or do I pluck him off and bag us a turkey?”

  Maureen couldn’t help it she laughed, a bit shaky but it would still classify as a laugh. Something she hadn’t done since she’d been run off the road. “If we can avoid it I don’t want to get the police involved in this. If he is crazy enough to rant to the police about a magic amulet, I’d have trouble playing it down as rapidly as my body is healing. I don’t want to turn into a freak at a side show or be studied under a microscope, Hank.”

  He eased onto the brake as the light up ahead turned red. A lone pedestrian hurried across the street. “Then we’ll go it alone. If this guy is really after you or the amulet, I’m afraid he probably already knows where you live. But I think its time we found out.”

  The light turned green and he pressed on the gas pedal.

  She gave him a sidelong glance. Passing car lights reflected the grim set of his face and his knuckles wrapped tight around the steering wheel. “What do you have in mind, Hank?”

  “Let’s just see if he still wants to play chicken when we get outside of town,” he said then subsided into silence.

  Maureen stared out the window as well lit streets and brick buildings rushed by. She glanced out the side mirror to study the traffic behind the truck but all she could see was a red Altima and a dark Mustang.

  Ten minutes later, Hank turned the wheel and merged onto I-39.

  She reached down and touched the amulet on her ankle and closed her eyes. It warmed her hand and caused the crippling fear to subside. She watched Hank glance out of the corner of his eye to the rearview mirror then back on the road.

  Traffic thinned as Hank slowed to the speed limit and cars whipped past them. He glanced in the mirror. “A dark sedan is holding back.”

  His eyes on the rearview mirror, Hank said, “Get the gun out of the glove compartment.”

  Her heart leaped in spite of the amethyst. “What are you going to do, Hank?” She picked it up as if it were a snake. She hated guns almost as much as she hated reptiles.

  He slowed down. The car behind him did the same. Hank swore under his breath. “There’s a rest stop up ahead. Let’s pull in and see what our boy does.”

  Five minutes later Hank turned on his signal and pulled in the rest stop. It was a pretty, well lit, well-maintained area. Five other cars sat under the lights between the painted white lines marked for parking.

  The sedan behind them slowed then drove on.

  Hank gave a snort of satisfaction. “That should be that at least for the night. But chances are he knows where we live.”

  “That’s a reassuring thought.” Maureen’s voice was as dry as her throat. “What if he turns around at the next exit and comes back?”

  Hank shifted his elbow and rested it against the truck door’s interior. “No doubt he will but we’ll be long gone.” He pulled out and headed for the exit. “We’ll just wait for a nice little queue of traffic so we can blend.”

  They waited ’til the next cluster of cars came by and pulled out behind them. Hank wove in and out of traffic ’til he was in the middle.

  The rest of the ride home passed uneventfully. He pulled into the long dirt lane leading to the farm, hitting a pot-hole that caused them both to bounce in their seat. “We need to get another hand then maybe I’d have time to fix those damn holes in the road,” Hank said though both knew he’d do nothing about it. Their privacy and Maureen’s secret were too precious to risk an outsider with.

  As they rounded the bend in the lane, they saw a horse trailer parked in front of the house. Wolf, Maureen’s German Shepherd-wolf mix, stood by the driver’s door, his lips drawn back his fangs bared.

  Hank cut the engine and reached for the gun still setting in the seat between them.

  He studied the license plate. “Anybody in North Carolina been in touch with you about healing their livestock?”

  Maureen shook her head then realizing he hadn’t taken his eyes off the trailer said, “No.” In the past two years, her reputation as a healer had been growing in the small surrounding community where she lived. If people didn’t have enough money for a doctor or vet, they came to her. Several times the local vet had sent a horse or small animal that he’d given up on, to her.

  Maureen pleated the wispy material in her skirt. “Do you think he’s got anything to do with what happened tonight?”

  “Wouldn’t think so but I don’t want to take no chances either.”

  He turned off the truck and sat waiting.

  The big oak tree by the house threw eerie shadows across the lawn as a screech owl hooted nearby and even though Maureen had heard them all her life she shivered. A big full moon lit up the sky and helped dilute the menace of the night.

  He picked up the gun. “Somebody’s got to make a move and it sure as shit isn’t going to be our uninvited guest up there with Wolf waiting by his door.” He gestured toward the big SUV and trailer. “Nobody but a fool or someone with a death wish would step out of that cab.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” The truck door opened and the stranger stepped out of the cab.

  Wolf crouched his lips curled back showing deadly white fangs that gleamed in the moonlight.

  The stranger held out his hand, palm up, for Wolf to sniff.

  Without thinking, Maureen reached for the door handle. She couldn’t just sit and watch a man get savaged.

  Hank shoved his arm out in front of her. “Wait.”

  She could feel rigid cords stand out in his arms and hear the strain in his voice. Her own vertebra felt glued together disc by disc. Tension built like the incoming tide beneath the soothing pull of the amulet.

  She gasped in surprise as Wolf sat down.

  With long determined strides, the stranger walked toward the pickup, Wolf trailing at his heels.

  The bright moonlight illuminated his features, a strong chiseled face, a thin hawk-nose and dark hair drawn back in a ponytail. He wore faded jeans and a white tee shirt.

  Hank whistled softly. “What do you make of that?”

  Glancing over, she noticed Hank’s hand still rested on the gun. “I don’t know what to make of it. But I guess we’ll be finding out.”

  Her heart thumped as the stranger approached. Friend or foe?

  Hank rolled down the window and stuck the gun out. “That’s far enough. What do you want, mister?”

  The man looked at the handgun and raised his hands palm up. “You don’t need that.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Hank said his voice curt.

  “Is this the Sinclair Ranch?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  “Wolfe. Jack Wolfe. I’ve got a
sick horse and I’d heard about Miss Sinclair. She’s his last hope.”

  “And just what did you hear about Miss Sinclair?”

  The stranger took his eyes off Hank and stared into the cab as if trying to pierce the shadows. “That she’s a healer.”

  Maureen felt a jolt as their eyes locked.

  “Do you know anything about this hombre, Marnie?”

  She cleared her throat. “No.” Beneath the layers of calm, she could feel a headache trying to find an insidious crack to wiggle into.

  “Look, I know it’s the middle of the night and that I showed up on your doorstep unannounced and uninvited.” He took a deep breath as if to calm himself. “But my horse is dying. Please, you’re his only chance.”

  She tore her gaze off the stranger’s face and looked at the horse swaying from side to side in the trailer.

  “I’ll look at him,” she heard herself say.

  “You’re in no shape.” Hank stirred in the seat, his jaw tightening.

  She lowered her voice so it wouldn’t carry past the truck cab. “I’m feeling better than when we left the hospital. Besides, this isn’t the same man.”

  “That ain’t to say he ain’t working with him.” Hank’s jaw slanted upward at a stubborn angle.

  The stranger took a step forward.

  “That’s far enough,” Hank said his gun still trained on him.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I know you have your own problems. But every vet I’ve seen has given up on him. He doesn’t have much longer.” He looked at Maureen. “Please.”

  She closed her eyes, concentrated and felt a wave of anguish roll off him. Her breath caught in her throat at the force of it. “Take him to the barn.”

  “Marnie…”

  “Sir, you’ve got a gun pointed at me and a wolf on my heels. I’m not a stupid man.”

  Hank gave him a level look, his voice filled with warning. “I’ll be watching you.”

  The stranger nodded and turned on his heels.

  Not taking his eyes off the stranger, Hank said, “Sometimes, girl, you care too much.”

  Saying nothing, she leaned back in the seat causing the old cracked leather to squeak. Closing her eyes she drew into herself, wrapping her mind around the boji stones, feeling their strength and healing powers course through her body.

  She took a deep breath in from her belly then exhaled until her lungs emptied out. Opening her eyes she laid her hand on Hank’s. “What would I do without you?”

  “Get into a whole lot more trouble than you’re in now, I expect,” he said his expression wry.

  They followed the SUV as it started toward the barn, its headlights bouncing when it hit a chug hole.

  The brake lights shone for a moment then went out as the truck stopped at the barn. The man got out and let down the trailer gate. He looked once at Wolf then backed the horse down the ramp.

  Maureen’s eyes moved from the stranger to the horse. “What a beautiful animal.”

  Hank grunted.

  “Help me out will you, tough guy?”

  He put the safety on the Glock and slipped it into his waistband then came around and opened her door. “You’re the hardest headed female I know,” he grumbled scooping her out. “Want me to carry you into the barn?”

  “I can walk if you’ll let me use your arm as a cane. She leaned against him flinching as her left leg touched the ground. “Besides, I saw the look on your face when you saw that horse. You don’t want to lose him either.”

  “That’s neither here nor there. You’re much more important to me than a dang blamed horse. And you know this will slow your healing time maybe even set you back.”

  “Please don’t worry, Hank. I’ll be okay.” She leaned her weight against him letting him half-carry half-drag her to the barn feeling the heat of him permeating her arm and shirt. She drew in a deep breath and smelled fresh air and animals. Smells that comforted her since she was a little girl.

  The stranger waited at the barn door watching their slow progress.

  “I’m sorry. I know this is hard on you.” Something like remorse flashed in his eyes.

  She bit back a grin. He’s concerned about me but not nearly as concerned as he is for his horse.

  “How will this affect your own healing?” A slight frown marred his brow, his eyes searched hers looking for truth.

  Her head jerked up and her heart jumped. She and Hank exchanged a startled look. She felt Hank’s grip on her arm tighten. Does he know about me or is it just a casual question? She gave a mental shake of her head. No. How could he?

  “What do you mean by that, mister?” Hank demanded.

  The stranger gave him a respectful tilt of his head. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation back in the truck.”

  Maureen stared at him. He must have ears like a cat…or a wolf.

  He gestured toward the horse standing beside him, his head down, the silver mane falling over his face. “And this is Pegasus. I didn’t catch your name, sir.”

  “That’s because I didn’t offer it. It’s McHenry. Hank McHenry.”

  Maureen started to introduce herself. “I’m…”

  He interrupted, “Miss Maureen Kelly-Sinclair.” He stuck out his hand, “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

  Leaning on Hank, she clasped his hand. His eyes widened and his grip tightened around hers.

  She dropped his hand. He feels the amulet.

  Pegasus nickered, a distressed sound and his knees began to buckle.

  “Get him in the barn,” she said her voice urgent. She reached over and touched him. “Uh.” The grunt was involuntary before she could bite it off. The animal’s pain shot through her. But she knew her touch brought the animal a small measure of relief. It would at least get him in the barn and into a clean stall.

  Hank’s grip tightened on her. “You’re not up to this, Marnie.”

  She patted his hand. “I’ve got you, Hank. I’ll be all right.” She turned to the stranger. “Mr. Wolfe, take him in the barn and put him in the box stall at the back.”

  He gave a curt nod, swung open the wide door and grasping the halter walked the horse in. “Come on, ole son, not much further now.”

  The sweet fresh smell of hay and horses assailed her as they walked into the barn. A red roan stuck his head out of the stall and nickered a greeting.

  The distance to the end of the barn seemed endless. As Maureen limped beside the shambling horse, she leaned more and more on Hank’s wide shoulder.

  By the time they reached the end stall, Maureen’s breath was coming in short sharp gasps and sweat dewed her skin.

  Jack threw open the stall door and Pegasus walked in and sank to his knees in the deep hay.

  “What’s wrong with him?” she asked for form’s sake, though she’d known the moment she touched him.

  “Cancer. The vet, vets,” he corrected himself, “have done everything they can. He can go anytime.”

  She’d felt it. Felt death beating at that proud heart. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I’ll do what I can. Come back tomorrow morning.”

  “I stay with my horse.” His voice was flat, his expression grim.

  “Mr. Wolfe.”

  “Jack.”

  “Jack, I don’t share my methods with anyone but Hank.”

  “I stay with my horse.”

  His jaw jutted at a determined angle. On a less handsome man, his expression would have been mulish. She raised her own chin. “While I laud your loyalty, I can only hope your pigheadedness doesn’t kill your horse. You can bunk down here in the barn.”

  “Hank, please take me to the house.” She could feel the stranger’s tension lapping over her in waves.

  Jack fisted his hands and shoved them in his pockets. “You’d let him die?”

  “No, Mr. Wolfe, you would.” Her heart went out to the poor creature but there were some boundaries she couldn’t cross.

  Tension-layered silence bea
t between them.

  “You win.” Bitter defeat coated his handsome features. As he started to walk away, he glanced at her arm as if expecting to see something on it.

  For the first time, Maureen saw a flicker of unease cross his chiseled features.

  He stopped a breath away from her. “I didn’t misunderstand you are Maureen Kelly-Sinclair the healer aren’t you?”

  “I am.” He knows.

  Pegasus heaved a hard snorting breath.

  We are running out of time.

  Impulsively, she reached over and touched his arm. Like Hank’s it felt warm and comforting, with hard muscles under the skin, muscles at the moment rigid with tension. A quiver ran through him at her touch. He looked both startled and relieved.

  “Mr. Wolfe…”

  “Jack.”

  “Jack, how old is your horse?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. I can’t fight old age. No one can.”

  “Three.”

  “I can save him. But I need you to leave, now.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  She waited.

  He gave a heavy sigh, accepting. “I’ll be outside the barn if you need me.”

  “I’ll have your word on that.”

  “You have it.” He turned and strode away.

  The moment Maureen heard the barn door close she turned to Hank. “Help me inside.”

  The horse lay on its side, its eyes closed.

  “I think all things considered I’ll lie down too.”

  Hank helped her down in the hay.

  She snuggled up against the horse’s back.

  “You be careful, Marnie.”

  Pain seared through her, racing down her injured leg and into the amulet. “This horse is too sick to hurt me,” she panted, fighting back the urge to throw up.

  “You need to go outside and keep an eye on our guest.” Her words slurred, her voice was labored.

  “I’m staying right here, in case that horse starts coming around. Don’t you worry now,” Hank spoke in the soothing voice he reserved for skittish horses. “Nobody’s coming in.”

  * * * * *

  Jack leaned against the barn door and poured coffee from an old silver-colored thermos. He took a sip and grimaced. It was strong as sin. As he watched, the sun peeped up on the eastern horizon, flirting with the night, before it chased the dark away.