Fury's Love. Tess MathewsЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Everyone in Black Hawk's cabin went to bed early, but no one slept.

      "I don't know what to do," said Hank as he lay in bed next to Little Dove.

      "Hank, if you don't teach her what she wants to know and send her back to live with her grandmother, do you think she will try to run away and go after the murderers?"

      "Yes, I'm sure of it."

      "And do you think she would succeed in running away?"

      "Yes."

      "So, if you do nothing, she will go after those men and be killed."

      "I know. I will have to teach her."

      Hank watched the sunrise as he drank a cup of coffee. He contemplated his decision and felt its weight. He could be sending his best friend's daughter to her death. Knowing the fear dancing in his gut would work against him, he gripped his emotions and put them away.

      Hank drank his last gulp of coffee and said a silent prayer for wisdom and guidance.

      He heard Little Dove clanging cookware as she prepared to cook breakfast. Hank took a deep breath and went inside.

      "Good morning," he muttered to his wife.

      "Good morning, Hank. Pour yourself another cup of coffee and sit down; breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

      Hank did as his wife asked.

      "Can I help?" Fury asked as she walked into the kitchen.

      "No, thank you," Little Dove answered, "breakfast is almost done. You can get a cup of coffee and sit with Hank."

      Hank's eyes followed Fury. He watched as she fought to control her shaking hands as she poured her coffee. She took a sip then sat down next to him.

      After breakfast, Hank left the house, leaving the women to clean up.

      The ladies were stacking the dishes in the cupboard when he returned.

      "Little Dove, if you don't mind, I need to talk to Fury."

      "Sure. Fury go ahead with Hank; I can finish up."

      "Let's go for a walk," Hank said to Fury.

      She nodded then followed him out the door. They walked in silence until they reached the back of the barn. Fury saw bottles lined up atop a fence rail.

      "So, you have decided to help me."

      "Yes, God help me, I have. Show me how well you shoot."

      Hank handed Fury a gun.

      She aimed and shot at the bottles, hitting most of them.

      "You are a good shot."

      "I know," Fury replied with a slight tone of smugness in her voice. "Papa made sure I learned how to shoot."

      "Don't be so sure of yourself. I said you were a good shot, but to go after murderers on the run, you need to be a great shot."

      Fury swallowed her pride; she knew he was right.

      "You've practiced enough for today."

      "But we've only been out here an hour."

      "I know, but you need rest. You're still on the mend."

      "I'm all right, Hank."

      "Fury, let me give you some advice. If you want to stay sharp, you need to take care of yourself. Being exhausted will get you killed."

      Fury sighed," All right, you win."

      "Good, but before we go in the cabin, I want to show you a couple of things."

      "What?"

      "Follow me."

      Fury followed Hank to a fence that ran along his pasture. He propped his arms on the top rail.

      "Look there," Hank said to Fury as he pointed to a painted horse running in the field.

      "Nice horse."

      "It's yours."

      "Mine? Hank, I can't take your horse."

      "You can, and you will. You asked me to help you, and getting you a good horse is part of the deal. Watch her run."

      Fury watched as the horse galloped in the tall grass.

      "Mighty fast, isn't she?"

      Fury's eyes were glued to the horse. She was amazed that an animal that fast could move with grace and agility.

      "What you want to call her?"

      "Huh?" Fury's attention focused on the horse. "She is swift."

      "All right, Swift it is?"

      "Wait. What?"

      "Her name—Swift."

      "I didn't mean that to be her name, but she is the fastest horse I've ever seen, so, yeah, I'll call her Swift."

      "Well if you can tear your eyes away, I have something else to show you in the barn."

      "You don't need to give me anything else," Fury said. "The horse is more than enough."

      "Remember what I said. If I'm training you, you take what I give you, no questions asked. Anyway, what's in the barn is already yours. Come on."

      Fury nodded and treaded her way to the barn with Hank.

      "All right, Hank, what do you want to show me?" Fury asked as they walked into the barn.

      "This way." Hank led her to a stall.

      "See there." He pointed to a black and white dog being tormented by a scrawny brown pup. The mother dog lay patiently while the pup attacked her ears.

      "Oh, him," Fury's voice dropped.

      "What do you mean, 'oh, him'? Your parents gave him to you for your birthday."

      "I know, but that was before. What am I going to do with a dog when I'm tracking murderers?"

      "Don't be so quick to judge; a dog, a good dog, can help you."

      "What do you mean?"

      "Well, for one thing, he would be a watch dog. He will hear things long before you do. He also can be trained to protect you. He can sniff out people. There are a lot of things a dog can be trained to do."

      "You think that dog can help me?" Fury nodded her head toward the pup, who was now hopelessly chasing his tail.

      "Yes, I do. His mama is the smartest dog I've ever owned."

      "Sally is a smart dog, but that doesn't mean he will be, and I don't have the time to train him."

      "Give him a chance. You've worked with me and your father, training hunting dogs. As I recollect, not only did you train them to hunt, you taught them to do tricks."

      "I don't think dog tricks are going to help me hunt killers."

      "I'm not saying that. I'm saying you are a natural when it comes to training animals. Work with him for a while, and if you don't think it's worth it, then leave him with me."

      "All right," Fury sighed as she watched the pup bark