Soul of the Wildcat Read Online Free

downed ranger.
    â€œNow what the hell are we going to do with her?” Willie Barnett demanded.
    Waylon’s deluded gaze cut toward the caged cougar. “Didn’t we promise those Asians we’d bring them two pets for their zoo?”
    A nod. “Yeah.”
    Waylon Barnett snorted a giggle. “Then this is our lucky day, boys.” Delighted with his brainstorm, he grinned like a shit-eating hound. “Looks like we’ve just made our sale.”
    A cold, damp sweat rose on Dakoda’s skin. She trembled before she could stop the reaction. Whatever the outlaw was raving about, she was sure it wouldn’t be pleasant.

2
    D akoda had assumed Waylon Barnett was joking when he’d proposed caging her with the cougar.
    He hadn’t been joking.
    Assume makes an ass out of me .
    Crouched in a corner of the pen, Dakoda warily eyed the huge animal lounging barely five feet away. To her relief, the big cat remained still. Eyes half closed as it dozed, the cougar lay on its side. Stretched out, the cougar was almost as large and heavy as a grown man.
    Dakoda swallowed thickly. “Good kitty. You stay there and I’ll stay right here.”
    Barely daring to turn her head, she peered through a crack in the thick log slabs. The compound the outlaws called home stretched out around her. In the cul-de-sac of an obscure valley, a series of overhanging cliffs provided natural shelter for the small settlement that had taken root. Most everything was constructed from logs: cabins, sheds, and a small corral for keeping the horses penned.
    Still, not every item smacked of pioneer living.
    The outlaws had more than a passing acquaintance with the outside world. A series of beat-up F-150 pickups and a couple of ATVs were an indication trails passable by more than foot or hoof existed.
    â€œSlick operation,” she muttered.
    More than anything there were cages. Lots of cages. All shapes, all sizes. All clearly meant to keep animals penned and controlled.
    Including the two-legged ones.
    Gregory Zerbe was right, of course. These people had lived in the mountains all their lives. And they’d burrowed in permanently. There was no way to measure how far they’d traveled since her capture. Just as she had no idea where this place might be on a map.
    Memory of her late partner brought a hitch to Dakoda’s throat, a thickening that presaged blurred vision and lots of tears. She hated the idea he’d lay cold and alone in an unmarked grave. He deserved better.
    So did she.
    Dakoda swallowed hard, desperately struggling not to remember his grisly death. She’d deliberately tried to blank Greg’s murder from her mind, refusing to let her memory push rewind, then play. It was no use. Every moment was irrevocably etched inside her skull.
    She cast another wary glance toward the cougar, listless save for an occasional flick of its tail. Its amber eyes were narrow, not directly focused on her, but aware of her presence nevertheless. A low rumble emanated from its throat.
    A warning.
    You keep your place and I’ll keep mine.
    Dakoda gulped. My very last breath might be arriving sooner, rather than later . Her thought was a grim one, and not very pleasant to contemplate.
    Reaching up, Dakoda fingered the thick metal band around her neck. After the indignity of wearing her own handcuffs, she’d hoped to be rid of her shackles. Not so. Like the cougar, she’d been fitted with a collar. Since her capture the animal had been unnaturally docile, as though the sight of seeing another taken and chained had temporarily robbed it of the will to be defiant.
    Had she not known better, Dakoda would have sworn the beast was showing an intelligent response to their mutual plight of captivity.
    Their coop looked more like a cell a human being would be confined in. The floor was plain dirt, packed hard and swept clean. A bunk was built into one wall. A crude table and chairs occupied another corner.