Soul of the Wildcat Read Online Free PDF Page A

toward her chest. “Oh shit…” she muttered. Now wasn’t the time to piss that big cat off.
    A flash of light hit Dakoda in the eyes. Shielding her face with a hand, she watched two of the outlaws step inside. The one she recognized as Willie Barnett carried a battery-powered lantern. He also carried a small cooler, the kind used for storing food and drinks.
    Dakoda welcomed the light; nobody wanted to be trapped in the dark with a cougar. She eyed the cooler. Food, I hope .
    The redheaded man who’d ambushed them followed a close step behind. Rifle in hand, he pointed it at the cougar. “Keep your place,” he warned. “Or I’ll blow you to kingdom come.”
    Dakoda froze. “Okay,” she said slowly, voice wavering more than a little.
    Willie Barnett laughed. “Not you, little girl. Rusty’s talking to Jesse there, reminding that mangy Indian to mind his manners.”
    Dakoda’s gaze swiveled to the cougar. Mangy Indian? She didn’t get it. Whatever the meaning was, it flew right over her head.
    Though the cougar couldn’t possibly understand human words, it must have recognized and comprehended the danger the men represented. Backing up a little, it settled down on its haunches. Its eyes narrowed into slits, and a low growl emanated from its throat. Bowed, but not yet broken.
    Willie Barnett walked over to the table. Setting down the lantern and cooler, he tugged out a chair. “Come here.”
    Dakoda assumed he was speaking to her. She shook her head. “I think I’ll stay right here.” No reason to trust these men. They hadn’t shown anything but their bad sides.
    The man called Rusty made a motion with his rifle. “The cougar won’t bother you.” He thumbed back the hammer on his rifle. “Guaranteed. Ol’ Jesse may be cursing himself for wanderin’ off his own land, but he ain’t entirely stupid. He knows them claws and teeth ain’t no match for my friends Smith and Wesson.”
    Must be the moonshine , Dakoda decided. The men must have gotten hold of a bad batch of rotgut. Talking to the cougar like it was human—like it understood—was the work of a seriously deranged mind.
    Opening the cooler, Willie Barnett made a motion with his hand. “Get on over here and eat.”
    Dakoda considered refusing. The smell of the food the men had carried in was beginning to permeate the small cell, filling the air with the enticing aroma of meat cooked over an open flame. Mouth watering, her neglected appetite gave a ferocious kick. Her stomach didn’t intend to be denied much longer.
    Easing to her feet, Dakoda slowly made her way to the table. She took the chair Barnett had pulled out for her, lowering herself into place. Another whiff of cooked meat hit her nostrils.
    Barnett began to empty the cooler. “It ain’t the best, but it’s edible,” he grumbled, ripping open a foil-covered packet heaped with meat.
    Dakoda surveyed the bounty. Ribs, still on the bone. A plastic bag of something that looked like trail mix lay beside a six-pack of plastic bottles filled with water. There was no cutlery, no napkins. Certainly no fancy dessert.
    Her senses wavered, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since noon. That was a long time ago. The life she’d had before encountering the outlaws hardly seemed real now.
    She picked at a piece of meat that appeared to be more charred than edible. When you’re hungry it’s a feast , she reminded herself. That didn’t mean she wanted to eat. Still, she realized the value of keeping strong, of staying aware. Lifting a piece to her mouth, she chewed slowly. Slathered with a tangy sauce and peppered, it tasted better than it looked.
    â€œEat up,” Barnett said gruffly. “We’ve got buyers coming in the next couple of days, and we don’t want you looking scrawny.”
    Dakoda swallowed the bite. The tough meat scratched her