Anne Duquette - Her Own Ranger

“I’ll have Ray call your mother when he goes to work,” she said as the tribal healer continued his ministrations. “She’d want to know.”

Carson opened his eyes again. “What will he tell her?”

“The truth—mat her son is hurt.”

“She’ll ask how, and Ray’ll go into details. Why call her about a minor injury, anyway?”

Deborah ducked her head guiltily.

“The bullet went deep, didn’t it?”

She met his eyes. “Almost right through. You could have bled to death.”

I nearly drowned first. “So that’s what you intend to tell my mother? You’ll destroy her peace of mind—which is fragile enough as it is.”

“She’s afraid of losing you like she lost her husband.”

“That is not the point.”

“Death is the point, Carson!” Deborah’s protest was so loud the healer paused over his bandaging. “Your father was killed here. Your mother left because she didn’t feel safe.”

“That’s why the poaching has to end. This is my home. I’ll protect it and our people until I draw my last breath. To ask me to do otherwise is beneath you as a tribal elder.”

“I’m not just a tribal elder. I’m an aunt who loves you.”

“I’m not accountable to you on this matter.” He became harsh, cold, as he always did when a decision he believed in was challenged. “I forbid you to tell my mother.”

“Carson, please don’t make me choose. She’s my brother’s wife.”

“Then tell her next week,” Carson insisted. He closed his eyes again, feeling weak but unwilling to concede. “Otherwise she’ll drag me off to some Miami hospital.”

“You might be safer there.”

“They have air-conditioning. I hate air-conditioning. What if I get pneumonia?”

His aunt hesitated. She, too, suffered from leaving the superheated outdoors and stepping inside chilled structures. “It can’t be that bad, or more patients would die there.”

Carson followed up his advantage. “Who’s to say they don’t? Maybe ‘dying of complications’ is a doctors’ code for freezing to death.”

Deborah frowned. “I never heard—” The expression on her face changed. “Carson Ward, you are so full of it.”

Carson grinned at her capitulation.

“You make a second mother’s position very hard.”

“I’m not a child who needs mothering.” Though the hand that smoothed his hair was very welcome indeed. Maybe I could use a woman in my life, after all. Get married and... He pushed away the thought, brought alive in a moment of weakness. My father’s killers first.

“You should have a family now—and you should be sending your children to the looms or the herds. Ray and Adoette, as well. Instead, I’ve lost your mother to the bingo hall and Ray to the casinos. I expect Adoette will get tired of waiting and join him there. You’re all so unsettled. When you went over the side of the canoe...if it wasn’t for Adoette...” Her voice broke. “You and Adoette are close, and Ray’s so stubborn. She might make you a good wife.”

Carson groaned. “First I get shot and now I have to endure matchmaking? God help me.”

“Just a thought that crossed my mind.”

“Keep it there. Please, Aunt.”

He flinched as the healer wrapped over a particularly painful spot. When the job was finished, Deborah brought him herbal tea with its painikilling and sleep-inducing properties.

“Drink it,” she urged.

“I will, but I need you to do something for me.”

“First drink the tea.”

Carson downed the drink and passed her the empty mug. “I want you to contact that woman. Alisha Jamison.”

Deborah looked puzzled. “Why?”

Carson moved his legs restlessly in the hammock. “You know, she’s that crusading Dian Fossey type. She and her partner—some guy Ray knows—have done those articles and TV shows that publicize poaching.”

“I know who she is. I’ve seen some of her documentaries and photographs. And the man’s name is Josh Gregory. I also remember you advised the tribe and the NPS to refuse them permission to enter our lands. You said her filming would disturb the hatchlings—and maybe interfere with the investigation of your father’s death.”

“Yeah, well, that was a year ago, and I thought I’d have caught Dad’s killers by now.”

“You’ve changed your mind?”

“Yes. She’s exposed poachers all over the world. She gets publicity for animals at risk and creates public awareness of the problem.” He paused. “Her work even led to the capture of some poachers—in Australia, I think.”

“But you said you were going to catch the poachers yourself.”

“I intend to. However, I need a distraction—a tactical diversion—while I’m doing it. Today’s was a bust.”

“We wanted to come.”

“I shouldn’t have agreed. I endangered my family and nearly got killed in the process. I’m the ranger here. This is my job, not yours.”

“Carson, don’t.”

“I’ve been going about this all wrong,” he mused. “This woman just might be our ticket to success. Alisha Jamison’s business is documenting damage done by poachers. She’s a very public figure. If we bring her onto Seminole land, the poachers will have to lie low or, more likely, retreat to park land—where I’ve got NPS assistance and trained firepower—more than we have here. While everyone’s watching her, we’ll be waiting for the poachers to come out.”

“If they come. They could cut and run.”

“They don’t run. They kill.” He shook his head. “Time to put an end to it,” he said again. “So, I need you to go back to the council.”

Deborah frowned. “It won’t be easy to convince them to change their minds, especially since you were against Alisha’s earlier request.”

“They’ll listen to you.” He felt himself getting sleepy, but forced his eyelids to stay open. “Don’t bother with a letter—have Ray fax Ms. Jamison from the casino. I want her here by the time I’m back on my feet.”

Deborah continued to stroke her nephew’s head. “Only if you promise to stay away from any more bullets.”

Carson grimaced. “That’s certainly my intention. Oh, something else...”

“Rest.”

“No. One more thing.”

He felt his aunt’s touch, felt the sedative effects of the tea, and heard his voice grow fainter. But he refused to sleep until he’d finished.

“For her own safety, I don’t want Alisha Jamison involved in my fight. I don’t want her knowing any of the specifics—about these poachers...or my father’s death.”

“If I were in her position, I’d want to know.”

“Absolutely not. She’ll be our gundog who either flushes our prey or drives them into hiding. Nothing more. Do you understand me, Aunt? Nothing more.”

CHAPTER TWO

Amazon jungle, Brazil

ALISHA JAMISON RUMMAGED through the rusting refrigerator for the clear plastic container. She gently shook it, causing the small tree viper trapped within to flex its coils.

“For heaven’s sake! Aren’t you asleep yet?”

Ordinarily the cold would send the reptile into a lethargic state, making it easy to handle. Alisha could then safely position her chilled subject, its lowered body temperature keeping it immobile long enough to let her shoot a decent roll of film.

But the ancient refrigerator wouldn’t even freeze water, the light outside her bungalow was fading, and if the snake didn’t cooperate soon, she could kiss those shots goodbye.

“No slides for me means no freedom for you,” she warned the snake, her blue eyes narrowed in frustration. “Shape up or else!”

The snake angrily flexed its coils again as she replaced him in the refrigerator and shut its door.

“Hey, Al?”