all I need. Pretty big name.”
“It’s a great name.” He took half a step back as she edged past him. A singular moment had passed. “You know, the winner of the training contest gets twenty thousand dollars.”
“Yeah, that’s what Sergeant Tutan said.” He followed her through the tack room door. “Mary Tutan. She’s the one who told me about the competition.”
“Oh, yes, Mary,” she said, her voice brightening. “She just got married.”
“I stopped in and met her husband before I came here. She’s…”
“… back in Texas.”
“Says she’s put in for discharge. Kinda surprised me.” Seeing the boy with the kittens made him smile. “Sergeant Tutan had lifer written all over her. She’s a damn good soldier. Uncle Sam will miss her, but she’s served well.”
She took his measure with a look. “You, too?”
“I’ve been out for two months now. Officially.” Which was like saying her son had had an accident. There was a lot more to it, but nobody wanted to go there. “Tell Sally I’ll be at Logan’s place. I’ll check back in with her.” He reached down and touched Mark’s shoulder. “You’ve got a nice family there.” The boy offered up a little calico. Cougar rubbed the top of its head with his forefinger and nodded. “They’re too young to leave their mama.”
“Maybe we’ll see you when you come back for your horse,” Celia said. “You’ll get to choose.”
“If Mark’s around, maybe he could help me with that.” He still had the boy’s attention, maybe even some awareness of what he was saying. Cougar felt some connection. Close calls could have that effect. He’d experienced enough of them to know that. “I’ll bet you know the mustangs around here pretty well. I could use your advice.”
“He’d like that,” Celia said. “Thank you. I…” She laid her hand on his arm. Against his will he turned, took her eyes up on their offer of a clear view into her heart. “Thank you.”
He couldn’t wait to get out the door. He couldn’t handle that kind of gratitude. It wasn’t about anything he’d done. It was about not doing the unthinkable. At best it was about an accident that hadn’t happened, and he needed to put some distance between his image of what might have been and the faces in the image.
At the same time he wanted to hang around, which was pretty damned surprising. And it was about as uncomfortable as a new pair of boots.
Logan Wolf Track lived in a log house just outside the town of Sinte, where he served as a tribal councilman for his Lakota people. Cougar’s mother had been Lakota, but he was enrolled with the Shoshone, his father’s people. Cougar hadn’t met Logan until he’d knocked on the Wolf Track door the previous night. Sergeant Mary Tutan Wolf Track was the person they had in common. A white woman, strangely enough.
Or maybe it wasn’t that strange. Indian country was more open these days than ever before, what with the casinos and educational programs that opened up opportunities for people on both sides of what had long been an unchallenged fence. But before these changes and beyond Indian country, there had been the military. Cougar’s people had been serving in ever-increasing numbers for generations.
Cougar had been an army police officer—an MP—and Mary had been a dog handler. She’d served as a trainer—most recently in Afghanistan—and as far as Cougar was concerned she was the best trainer in uniform. She’d paid him a visit in the hospital in Kandahar, and she’d written to him after he was transferred stateside. More recently, they’d spoken by phone. Their mutual interest in training animals had given her something cheerful to talk about, and when Mary had talked up the wild horse training competition, she had his full attention. She’d planted an idea that had pulled him out of the seclusion he’d sought after his release from a VA hospital.
Cougar was glad to see Logan’s pickup parked in his driveway. It wasn’t home—Cougar towed his house around with him these days—but Logan Wolf Track was the kind of guy who made you feel at home. Fellow Indian, fellow cowboy, husband of a fellow soldier. Logan opened the door before Cougar’s knuckles hit the wood.
“Did you get signed up?” Logan asked as he handed Cougar a welcoming cup of coffee.
“Not yet.” Cougar settled in the kitchen chair Logan offered with a gesture. “The boss was out.”
“Nobody around?” He said it like such a thing never happened.
“There was a woman. A volunteer, she said. And her kid.” Cougar took a sip of kick-ass and cut-to-the-chase coffee. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “I almost ran over the kid.”
Logan let the quiet take over, leaving Cougar to take his time, sort though the images. They were jumpy, like an old silent movie, until he came to the woman. Her face was clear in his mind, and her voice poured over the images like slow dance music.
“He’s okay,” Cougar said. “Came out of nowhere, but I hit the brakes in time. Scared the hell out of me, and I think I scared the hell out of his mom. The kid…” He shook his head. “Hell, he didn’t seem to notice. Can’t talk, can’t hear and he’s half blind. I didn’t see him.” Another sip of coffee fortified him. “Damn, that was close.”
Logan put a plate of frybread on the table and took a seat across from his guest. “Your pickup sits up pretty high.”
Cougar nodded. “I gotta get rid of those monster tires. My little brother had the truck while I was gone, and he thought he was doing me a favor tricking it out like that. Coming home present, you know?”
“How do they ride?”
“Like saddling up a plow horse. Somehow I gotta tell Eddie the monster truck days are behind me.”
“That’s hard. A gift is a gift.”
“And the monster truck was a kid’s dream.” Cougar lifted his cup. “Good coffee. Tastes like Green Beans. Honor first, coffee second,” he recited, paying tribute to one of the few things he missed about being deployed in the Middle East.
Logan smiled. “You and Mary were in the same outfit?”
“No, but she worked pretty closely with us. She’s a real specialist. I’m the guy nobody invites to the party.”
“But when the party turns ugly, it’s the guy with MP on his sleeve who kicks ass in a good way.”
“That’s what we’re all about. I’ve kicked a lot of ass.” He helped himself to a piece of frybread. “You’ve been over there?”
“Gulf War.” Logan claimed a piece of frybread and tore it in half. “I was a kid when I went over there. Came back desperate to find some kind of normal. I found myself a hot woman and married up. She cooled off real fast. Took off and left me with her two boys. Who became my two boys.” He took a bite out of the chewy deep-fried bread. “Did Mary tell you we’re gonna have a baby?”
“Already?”
“Hell, yeah. You know what else? Normal’s the name of a town somewhere. Who needs Normal when you’ve got Sinte, South Dakota? Or…
