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were here, Jack probably
wouldn’t be making out on the sofa like a teenager.
    “I don’t see why not.” He stood, helped her
to her feet. “You’ll need to get bundled up. It will be a snowy
walk to the stables, but it’s not far.”
    “I’ll get my coat.”
    “I’ll meet you out there.”
    He watched her walk away, cane tapping softly
on the wooden floor, then headed to the mudroom, where Chuck was
waiting for him.
    “Luke is calling Doc Johnson, but you’re
going to want to see this yourself. Chinook has been shot in the
forearm.”
    “What the hell?” Jack’s adrenaline
spiked.
    “Burt brought him in at dusk but didn’t
notice anything. Luke went to settle him with hay for the night. He
called me in, and I saw what looks like a graze wound on his left
forearm.”
    “How the hell could Burt miss something like
that?” Jack wasn’t pleased.
    “I don’t know. We’re guessing that hunting
party didn’t move on the way you asked them to, and someone fired a
shot that ricocheted or got caught in the wind.”
    “I thought you told me they’d cleared camp.”
Jack couldn’t abide trespassers.
    Every summer and fall, he had to deal with
people who came onto his property without permission to fish and
hunt. He and his men chased them away, the sight of a dozen armed
men usually enough to make them leave.
    “Their camp was gone. Could be they just
moved and set up a new one.”
    “Could be. Did anyone hear the shot?”
    Chuck shook his head. “No.”
    Jack put on his boots, slipped into his
parka, and grabbed his gloves. “Shovel a path from the house to the
stables, and make sure Ms. Killeen makes it safely. I don’t want
her slipping.”
    “You got it, boss.”
    Jack stepped outside. The wind had kicked up,
icy snowflakes biting his face. The stars and mountaintops were
hidden behind dark clouds. More snow was coming.
    Inside the heated barn, he found Luke still
on the phone with Doc Johnson, a woolen ski cap covering his red
hair. “He’s right here.”
    “Thanks, Luke.” Jack took the phone. “Sorry
to trouble you, Doc. I haven’t had a chance to look at the wound
myself. We’ll call you back in five. If it’s something we can
handle, we will. I don’t want you coming out in this weather unless
it’s a true emergency.”
    Doc Johnson had been their vet for close to
twenty years and had become a friend of the family. He’d forgotten
more about horses than most people would ever know.
    Jack walked back to Chinook’s stall, found
him stomping nervously, his muscular body shuddering.
    “He seems pretty shook up,” Luke said.
    Jack called to Chinook and was relieved when
the big animal came to greet him. “Hey, boy, what’s going on?”
    He rubbed the stallion’s soft muzzle, spoke
quietly to him, tried to calm him, then entered his stall, sliding
the door closed behind him.
    Immediately he saw the wound—a deep graze
across the animal’s upper left forearm. Blood still oozed from the
gash, trails of dried blood running down his leg. How could Burt
have missed this? Had the man been sleepwalking?
    “Has anyone checked the corral for evidence?”
If they knew what angle the shot had come from, Jack might be able
to take a few men out on snowmobiles and confront the bastards
who’d done this.
    Luke shook his head. “I don’t think so,
boss.”
    “I’d like to know where he was standing when
he was hit. There ought to be some sign—blood on the snow or
something.” Jack was about to send Luke out to search, but the kid
was new and might unknowingly step on something. “Trade places with
Chuck. He’s shoveling snow. Send him to me. I want him on
this.”
    Luke looked like he wanted to object but
wisely changed his mind. “You got it.”
    Jack attached cross ties to the stallion’s
halter and clipped them to the sides of the stall. He needed to
keep the horse still so he could examine the wound. Chinook didn’t
seem to be favoring the leg, so the bone couldn’t be