My Estranged Lover (Middlemarch Shifters Book 5) (20 page)

“Here is the truck now. I’ll let out the dogs.”

The first man strode to the compartment on the back of the ute, the metal bar holding the door locked sounding loud in the silence. Four dogs jumped free and leapt to the ground.

Once in position, he waited, every muscle tense as he listened to them discuss their plan in low voices.

“Like taking candy off a baby,” one scoffed. He appeared older and was smaller in stature.

The dogs milled around, uncertain. They could smell him, but weren’t sure of the situation.

“What’s wrong with the sheep?” the younger man asked. “They’re milling around as if something is out there. Better bring the gun.”

The air whistled through the older man’s teeth. “Theft of sheep is one thing, but I don’t like guns. We don’t need them. They have no idea we’re here. Let’s get the sheep and leave.” He whistled, a quiet sound that reached the dogs. They pricked their ears and trotted to their master.

Marsh remained motionless, relaxing a fraction as he heard the low growl from one of his workmates.

“What was that?” the young guy demanded. “Did you hear it?”

“Something out there all right. Don’t go waving that gun around, boy. The last thing we want is you shooting wildly in a panic. Someone might get hurt.”

The older man whistled at his dogs again, the sound different in tone this time, and the four dogs raced into the darkness toward the uneasy knot of merino sheep.

The truck pulled to a stop and two men, the driver and passenger, exited the vehicle. They opened the rear of the truck and pulled out poles with quick efficiency.

A mobile yard. The younger man went to help and within five minutes they’d erected a holding yard for the sheep. They’d done this a time or two and Marsh wondered if they’d stolen his father’s stock.

The man with the dogs rounded up the sheep and drove them toward the mobile yards. Marsh quivered with the urge to move but stuck with their plan and waited for Hamish’s signal to draw in behind the herd of bunched sheep and dogs, to surround the men.

It would be soon.

Hamish’s sharp bark of command rang out, echoing in the gully.

“What the hell was that?” one of the men demanded.

“Told Toby there was something out there. I heard stories of big black cats wandering these hills.”

“Don’t let your imagination get the better of you,” a gruff voice commanded. “Boss wants these sheep. He’s paying us top dollar, so we’re gonna deliver.”

Marsh smirked. Wouldn’t happen. Not this night.

He rose and crept through the darkness, following the men as they approached the mobile yard.

Hamish called again, and Marsh heard the fury vibrating in his single snarl.

“Something is fuckin’ out there, I tell you.”

“Put your hands in the air where I can see them or I’ll shoot,” Isabella said in a clear, firm voice.

“You and whose army, girlie,” the younger man with the gun asked, his tone casual. Amused.

Marsh sucked in a breath, hoping this wouldn’t end in gunfire, but suspected the situation might head south in a big way.

Marsh kept his gaze on Isabella, caught her wry smile in the scant light.

“I’ve brought my army,” Isabella said.

Hamish barked another order, and they closed up.

“What the fuck?” the young guy with the gun cried. He whipped the gun from the small of his back and fired at one of the leopards.

Marsh heard the grunt of pain, smelled the blood and hoped it wasn’t serious. His next shot went wild, then the man gave a terrified shriek, the small gun—Marsh couldn’t see what it was—dropping to the ground.

“You shot me,” the man cried.

“You’re still talking,” Isabella countered. “You, line up against the truck. Keep your hands where I can see them. Hamish, you got the guy with the dogs?”

The truck driver tried to make a run for it, and Marsh stalked him. When the man broke into a run, Marsh sprang at him and knocked him off his feet.

The man screamed, tried to scramble free. Marsh planted a paw in the middle of his back and forced the man back to the ground. The man turned his head, and Marsh took satisfaction in his terrified expression. He pushed his face close and snarled, letting his hot breath waft over the man’s features.

“Watch it,” Isabella’s voice came. “Don’t run or I’ll set my cats on you.”

Marsh snorted.
Her cats
. The men would grumble about that later.

“Idiot,” Isabella muttered. “Hamish, the guy is running toward you.”

Marsh moved off the truck driver, watching him to make sure he remained on the ground. He peered into the darkness where Hamish had stationed himself and gaped.

That wasn’t one of the men. A dog? No, they were all over by the sheep and the older guy. Crap, it was Ricky, and he was running straight toward the fleeing man. His throat closed up as panic filled him. He growled, calling for another of the felines. One arrived and Marsh took off, fear propelling him to speed.

Ricky didn’t stop. Instead he kept running toward the man, and Marsh saw Leo scrambling after him, still in human form.

The human thief ran blindly, fear propelling him onward. He didn’t see Ricky, and Marsh didn’t think he even noticed Leo’s presence.

Ricky aimed at the man’s feet. The collision brought the man down. Ricky howled. The man toppled facedown on the ground. Ricky picked himself up and jumped on the man’s back. The man roared with pain. Claws. Ricky wasn’t good at sheathing his claws yet.

The man thrashed, arms flying as he turned his body. One arm struck Ricky, sent him flying. He struck the ground with an audible thud.

Ricky didn’t get up.

Ricky didn’t move.

Chapter Twelve

Ricky!

Marsh screamed, the feline yowl of distress echoing off the surrounding hills.

“Let me look,” Leo said. “I’ll take care of him.”

Marsh heeded the warning. Rumors of black cats would pass as intriguing, but whispers of men changing to big black cats might start people on a hunt for the truth. He had to keep his head. Marsh padded up to the panicked man and bit his arm. It was a nip rather than a bite, but he drew blood. He wanted to do much more. He wanted to damage the thief.

Hamish called out a feline order. Several of the felines backed away from the circle and sprinted toward the homestead. They’d return dressed and with rope to secure the men until the cops arrived from Tekapo or Twizel.

Marsh sent a questioning yowl at Leo.

“He’s coming around. Breathing is labored. I think he’s winded. Looks as if he’s broken his leg. Right front. Ricky, breathe. That’s it. Slow and easy. He’s all right, Marsh.”

Marsh growled his displeasure, relief filling him when he heard a whimper from his son.

It seemed like ages, but it was only five minutes later when two of the farmhands arrived to take charge of the man Marsh was guarding.

Marsh growled at him and feinted a charge. The man screamed.

“Keep him away from me. He bit me.”

“Lucky for you it wasn’t worse,” Gerald, a farmhand, snapped.

They marched him toward the cluster of men, leaving Marsh to reassure himself that Ricky was unharmed. He shifted and crouched beside Leo and Ricky. With gentle hands, he checked his son for other injuries.

“I wish we were closer to Middlemarch so Gavin could take a look at him,” Marsh said. Gavin was the local vet and as a feline, he acted as doctor to the feline population.

“Isabella is experienced with field medicine,” Leo said.

Marsh scooped up Ricky, and both men turned toward the homestead.

“What happened? How did Ricky get out here?”

“I’m not sure,” Leo said. “Both Caroline and Ricky were outside and Ricky took after the men. I told Caroline to stay and that I’d go after Ricky. I had him with me, and everything was all right until that guy ran in our direction. Ricky ran before I could grab him.”

Marsh let out a soft curse. “What the hell am I going to do with him, Leo? I explain how to shift every day. Hell, I’ve even told him he won’t be able to open his birthday presents if he stays in feline form. Nothing I say seems to get through to him.”

“You should return to Middlemarch and see Gavin. Hamish would give you a few days off. Cam will be back soon. You don’t want to return to Middlemarch, do you?”

“Hell, no. I’ll talk with Caroline. See what she thinks we should do. I guess we could book into the Middlemarch bed and breakfast for a few days.”

“Stay with Saber and Emily. They’re finding it strange since we’ve all moved out. They won’t mind for a few days. Have Caroline make Emily a new dress or something. Isabella tells me Caroline is a genius.”

“I’ll talk to Caroline,” Marsh repeated. No way was he doing anything without input from his mate.

When they turned into the gravel driveway, Caroline ran to meet them.

“Marsh! Is he hurt?”

“Leo thinks he has a broken leg.”

Caroline stood aside to usher them into the house. “Lay him on the kitchen table.”

Ricky whimpered.

“How do we treat him?” Caroline demanded. “Should we try to get him to shift?”

Marsh wrapped his arm around her trembling shoulders. “He’ll heal better in feline form. Isabella will be here soon. Leo said she has experience in field medicine.”

“As an assassin?”

Leo looked startled. “She told you? She must like and trust you. Only the family knows the truth.”

“Sorry. She didn’t say it was a secret. I won’t mention it to anyone else,” Caroline said.

“Do you have clippers? We’ll need to shave off some of his fur so we can see his leg,” Leo said.

Caroline disappeared to get clippers while Marsh grabbed a pair of jeans.

Isabella arrived, guns still in hand. “I need to lock these up. How is he?”

“Broken leg. Who takes care of medical problems here at the station?” Leo asked.

“Maria and Cam, I think. Hamish will know,” Marsh said.

Isabella surveyed Ricky’s leg and examined him for other wounds. “We could ring Gavin now, ask him.”

“Who is Gavin?” Caroline demanded.

“He’s the vet at Middlemarch, and he takes care of any feline medical issues,” Leo explained.

“I’ll ring him now,” Caroline said. “Do you have his number?”

Marsh watched his mate, pride filling him as she spoke with Gavin. She explained about Ricky, his age, his unexpected shift and his injuries.

“I can x-ray him here at the surgery. His feline genes will heal him, but it would be best if I can see the damage. If he heals with the bone out of line, he’ll end up with a limp.”

Caroline nodded. “Can we give him something for the pain?”

“Any head injuries?”

Caroline glanced at Ricky who lay unmoving on the table. “He seems more shocked than anything. He’s awake and responds if we speak to him.”

“I gave Maria and Cam some mild sedatives. Give him a quarter of a tablet if you can get him to take it. Give him water if he wants it, but don’t give him any solid food in case I need to operate.”

Marsh gripped Caroline’s arm as she went pale.

“All right,” she whispered. “Thank you. We’ll see you in a few hours.” She hung up and handed the phone back to Leo. “He said—”

“We all heard, kitten,” Marsh said in a gentle tone. “I’ll pack a bag for us.”

“What about James?” Caroline asked.

“I’ll ring Dara and ask if she’ll look after him for a few days.” Marsh picked up the phone and dialed. After a quick conversation, they’d organized James. Dara’s mate arrived shortly after to collect their oldest son.

Leo contacted Hamish, and half an hour later, they were in Leo’s vehicle and on their way to Middlemarch.

Caroline sought his hand in the darkness of the rear of the vehicle. “I think we should see your parents while we’re in Middlemarch. Once we’re sure Ricky is okay, we’ll visit them together. They’ll want to know about Ricky.”

Surprise at her compassion filled Marsh. His parents had treated her badly, and yet her first thought was for them because she knew they loved their grandchildren.

“It won’t hurt them to know that our marriage is strong again, that we’re mates,” Caroline added.

Marsh heard a soft chuckle from Isabella and smiled himself. He liked the way Caroline thought. It wouldn’t hurt his parents to learn they’d been wrong.

* * * * *

They’d left Middlemarch mere weeks ago, yet it felt as if it had been much longer. Caroline eyed the familiar Rock and Pillar range, the piles of schist that always reminded her of discarded children’s Lego blocks and the green paddocks. Even in the muted light of early morning, the green of the Strath Tarei valley contrasted with the brown tussock of the Mackenzie. The stock were different too, the sheep much whiter since they weren’t the merino breed that always looked as if they needed a good bath.

“Gavin is expecting us,” Leo said. “We’ll go to his place to sort out Ricky, then I’ll take you out to the farm.”