Black Cat and the Accidental Angel (Black Cat Mysteries Book 3) (14 page)

John put the last screw into the new lock on the gate. That should take care of it. No one would get in there now without a bolt cutter. But, would it be enough?

John returned to the house, flopped onto the sofa and picked up the newspaper. He stared at it without understanding one word. His head was in such a jumble, the paper might as well be written in Chinese. He threw it down.

Cindy stood at the kitchen sink, putting dishes in the drainer. She hadn’t mentioned the missing Emus, but surely she knew what had happened. The hens didn’t open their own gate. The first night the eggs went missing, he hadn’t the heart to tell her what he really thought.

Cindy must know that someone opened the gate on purpose to make trouble. She must know that if the hens weren’t found, there’d be no more chicks and without the chicks, there was no chance they’d save the ranch. She was only ten, but it didn’t take a Ph.D. to put two and two together.

John walked to the kitchen and picked up the frying pan. “Here, honey. Run on now, I’ll finish up.” He leaned over the sink and ran a paper towel around the grease in the frying pan, then held it under the faucet.

Not that his
Emu Project
was going all that well to begin with. Why hadn’t he put a lock on the gate the first day when the trouble started? Three of the hens had come back during the night, thank God, but four of them still wandered the countryside. No telling what might happen to them. They could be hit by a car or eaten by a mountain lion or end up on a neighbor’s barbecue—the thought made his stomach churn.

Someone wanted him off the ranch even before the bank got their hooks into him. Mr. Skimmer?
Wouldn’t put it past the old coot.
He’d already tried to steal the land right out from under his nose. Doubt he’d hesitate to pull something like this.

If the bank foreclosed, where would they go? How could he take care of Cindy? He dried his hands on the kitchen towel. How much more was a man meant to take?

Black Cat licked up the last slurp of fried egg from Cindy’s plate. He would have left the piece of bacon for Angel, but her taste went exclusively to Friskies and warm milk. She had no interest in people food
. Too bad. Her loss.

Just yesterday, he’d left a nice greasy slice of bacon on his dish. Angel sniffed at it and backed away. “No, thanks. I don’t eat meat. I’m a vegetarian.”

“What do you mean you’re a vegetarian?” Black Cat shook his head. Apparently this was something else she’d never mentioned. “You eat cat food, don’t you?” He flicked his whiskers.

Angel reared back, her eyes wide, her ears tipped back over her head. “You mean there’s meat in cans of cat food? How come no one ever told me?
Yuck!
I’ll never eat cat food again!”

“Then what are you going to eat? Salad? You’re a cat!”

“I’ll become a…a…Friskie-tarian. I’ll just eat Friskies.”

“Angel. Sweetheart.” Black Cat sighed. “You can eat all the Friskies you want, but there’s a certain amount of animal product in Friskies too.”

“There is not. It’s just crunchy stuff. It comes in a bag.”

“They put some meat
in
the crunchy stuff.”

“Then I’ll just eat the pieces that don’t have any meat in them.” Her bright eyes glittered. She swayed a bit, her round belly swaying as she stalked away from the kitchen stove.

“How can you tell the difference? It all looks alike. Oh, never mind!” Black Cat called after her.
Females.
No point arguing. She’s never going to admit she’s wrong.

John dipped the frying pan into the sink and picked up a scrubber. “I hoped some of the hens would come home during the night. I walked all around the ranch before breakfast, but no luck.” He turned to Cindy. “Can you clear the table and put away the butter and—”

Ring! Ring
!

John grabbed the telephone. “Hello? Oh, hello…really? That’s great… Yes. They are pretty big and funny looking. First house on the right off Quaker Banner Road? Got it. I’ll be right over. Thanks for calling.”

John’s face lit up. He hung up the phone. “A lady saw the sign I posted down at the corner store.” He grabbed his coat off the hook by the door. “She’s spotted one of the hens on the back of her property. I’m going over and see if I can drive it back. I’ll unlock the gate before I leave. You stay here, Cindy, and watch out the window. I’ll give a whistle when I get to the end of the drive. Get ready to run and open the gate. If I can get the hen into the yard, I think she’ll go back into the enclosure.”

Black Cat sat with Cindy near the window watching for the elusive hens.

No sooner had John driven out of sight, than an old man shuffled up the driveway. Almost as if he had been watching from the bushes, and waiting until John left.

The hair on the back of Black Cat’s back reared up as the old man staggered toward the house. Drunk! Or something worse?

“Someone’s out there. Daddy said…”

The old man glanced toward the front porch. He rubbed his chin where several days’ growth of whiskers sprouted. He must have seen Cindy through the window because he grinned, pulled off his rumpled hat and bowed, like a court jester.

“Oh!” Cindy bounced off the sofa and stood, staring out the window as the old man came closer to the house.

The old codger shoved his hat back over his straggly grey hair. A gust of wind rippled open his old coat, two sizes too big. He stepped toward the porch and shuffled up the steps.

Black Cat’s hackles rose.
Probably harmless.
Or not!
What could he possibly want here? And, Cindy was alone. The itch behind Black Cat’s ear raged.

The old man stumbled across the porch and pounded on the door.

Black Cat’s heart raced
. I never had much respect for dogs before, but, I sure wish I could bark.
He hurried closer to the door, exchanging glances with Angel.

She cringed beneath the kitchen table. The appearance of the old man had set her fear barometer off, as well.

Black Cat’s tail puffed out and his hair stood on end. He growled, for all the good it did. It wasn’t likely the old man could hear him through the door. Even if he heard, he wasn’t in any condition to notice.

Cindy hurried across the room.
Don’t open the door, Cindy!
Couldn’t she see by his body language that she shouldn’t open the door?
She’s going to open it!

Why hadn’t John taught her better?
Don’t open the door to strangers.
Her kind heart was about to put her in harm’s way.

His heart thumped. At best, the old guy was looking for something to eat or a bit of money. At worst, when he found Cindy home alone, he might push his way into the house and try to rob the place or…

He remembered the voices from the river. ‘Convince John to leave, whatever it takes…’ Was the old guy following their orders? What better incentive for John to leave than to find his little girl assaulted.

Black Cat hissed and clawed at Cindy’s sleeve. She jerked back for a second, then reached past him and put her hand on the knob.
No Cindy. Don’t do it.
She flipped the lock on the door and then ran and locked herself in the bathroom.

Black Cat’s breath whooshed out in a sigh.

Hopefully, the back door was locked, as well. Better check! He raced through the house toward the back, spotted the latch flipped over, then turned and dashed back to the living room. If the man was bent on mischief, he might look for another way into the house. The doorknob rattled! The pounding on the front door continued.

Black Cat cast another glance toward Angel.
It’s okay, my sweet.

Angel had moved from under the table to their bed by the stove. She had clawed the blanket into a pile. She turned in circles, first in one direction and then the other, lying down, and then standing, her eyes wide. She hunched her back and pulled her ears down. He heard her moan, and then twist her body.

Not now! God have mercy.
Could things get any worse?
Angel’s kittens were coming!

Chapter Fifteen

U
ncertain whether to stay with Angel or confront the man on the porch, Black Cat ran between the blanket and the door. If the old man got into the house, Angel was helpless…

Not unexpected, the ragged man walked around to the back, jiggled doors and checked all the windows. Thank goodness, everything was locked tight. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably no more than fifteen minutes, he went away.

Cindy stayed in the bathroom with the door closed.

Black Cat rushed to Angel and hovered by her side. What should a guy do in a situation like this? How long does it take for kittens to come? His heart was beating like a shutter in a wind storm. He wanted to tell her how much he longed to be a good father. To let her know how much she meant to him
.
For the first time in his life, words failed him. He gulped, swallowing down a ping-pong ball sized lump in his throat. “Angel, I—”

“Leave me alone. Can’t you see I’m busy?” Angel’s occasional scratching on the blanket was the only sound in the house. Her nervous purrs rasped and shook her body.

Black Cat’s heart had just begun to slow when he heard little mewing sounds. He crept closer and peered into the pile of blankets. “They’re here already? Three? Is that all?”

The look she gave him could melt ice cubes. “Give me a break. I’m fairly new at this.” She licked each kitten dry and pulled them to her tummy. Two of the kittens were the image of Angel, all creamy-gold with light pinstripes. The third had a mottled colored coat, a mixture of black and orange and a cream blaze on her tiny nose.

“Boys?” Black Cat whispered.

Angel sighed. “Three little girls.”

“Oh…” His head dropped, one ear drooped to the side.

“You’re disappointed, aren’t you? I thought you liked girls.”

“I do like girls. But, a fellow always wants sons. I’d hoped—”

Angel’s head jerked up and she glared into his eyes. “Well, isn’t that a shame. Maybe next time, you should have the kittens. Maybe you… Oh! Oh!…
Uumm!
” Her eyes grew big and then she twisted, sending the little girls flying as a black and white kitten with four white feet appeared on the blanket.

“There,” Angel panted. “I hope you’re happy now. Meet your son.”

“My son? Angel!” The kitten was his spitting image. Long black fur, a white collar, four huge white feet and a little white mustache.

Black Cat leaned over the blanket. “One, two, three, four, five, six. Yes! Six toes on his little front foot. That’s my boy!” Guess that answered his questions about the paternity of the kittens. “Oh, Angel!”

“Yeah! Yeah! I know. You love me. Now go away and let me sleep. I’m exhausted.” Angel licked the black and white kitten from head to tail. Her purr hummed and rattled as she closed her eyes and moved into a zen-like state, her tongue moving up and down as she tumbled each kitten, drying, loving, making their scent her own.

“Yes, my queen.” Black Cat tiptoed over to the locked bathroom.
Meow!
Cindy? Are you alright?

Cindy opened the door. “Is it safe to come out now? Has the old man gone?”

Come out and see my beautiful new family.

Black Cat and Cindy hovered over the Madonna and babies.

Angel lifted her head, her little pink tongue still visible between her teeth. She gazed at Cindy.
So, now that they’re dry, what do you think?
Her eyes dropped to the kittens, two snuffling around and eating, the other two sleeping. She purred like a miniature Husqvarna tractor.

“Angel! Your babies are beautiful. I’m so proud of you.” Cindy stroked her finger over the little tortoiseshell kitten. Nothing like a litter of new kittens to make a little girl forget about the old man who’d tried to break into the house. She caressed Black Cat’s head. “You’re such a proud papa. If you had buttons on your white vest, they’d pop right off, wouldn’t they?” She giggled and rolled on the floor, obviously amused at her joke. She sat up when John’s truck crunched up the driveway.