Walker Pride

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eric brushed his hand over the top of his head and slid his hat back on, low over his brow. He, Ben, and Russell had taken turns staying up with the horses all night and he was exhausted.

  This was the life he’d chosen—the animals, the land, the responsibility to others to keep their animals safe. He’d failed.

  Raven Wing had succumbed around one in the morning. Her owners had been with her at the end, but Eric still had to face them.

  Whiskey River hung on and Eric still wasn’t sure he’d pull through.

  The truck was there to collect the fallen horse. In the corner a young girl, Emily, cried. Her parents stood huddled with Dr. Parks as Eric approached them.

  “Eric, I’m glad you’re here,” Dr. Parks watched him approach with weary eyes.

  Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, Raven Wing’s owners, shifted their hard glances to him as he joined them.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, I’m so sorry for your loss. We’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise you,” Eric offered, hoping to give them comfort.

  “I think we might have,” Dr. Parks said. “I drew blood from both horses last night. They weren’t bitten by anything and it wasn’t an illness that took down the horses. These horses were poisoned.”

  Eric felt his heart stop in his chest. “Someone did this to my animals?”

  Dr. Parks nodded. “Do you have surveillance here?”

  Eric winced. “No. I’ve never needed it.”

  “You should have,” Mrs. Wilson snapped. “You should know who comes and goes from here. Someone killed our daughter’s horse and now she’s heartbroken. You can’t fix that, Mr. Walker.”

  Eric turned and looked toward Whiskey River’s stall where his brother sat with the horse. He understood their pain. No, he couldn’t fix that.

  Three hours later Eric had talked to the police. The other horses, which he’d boarded, were relocated and Whiskey River clung to life.

  Russell walked up behind him as he watched Dr. Parks evaluate Whiskey River.

  “Dad just called,” Russell said resting his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “There are three cows down in the west field.”

  Eric closed his eyes and let his shoulders drop.

  “Elias has gone too far this time.”

  “You don’t know it’s him.”

  Eric turned toward his brother. Heat seared in his veins. “You’re going to stand there and tell me it’s not him? We’re contesting him getting this land. It’s just like him to do something like this. Just like he turned his own flesh and blood away when she chose to love a man he didn’t approve of.”

  “You’re making this all about you. Maybe it’s not.”

  He gave Russell a shove. “Get out of my face. I’m going over there and I will knock the first man that tries to stop me on his ass .”

  Russell stepped aside as Eric hurried toward his truck.

  Dirt kicked up as he sped away from the barn and headed toward the Morgan’s house for the very first time in his entire life.

  A mere ten miles from his front door, he crested the hill and the grand house came into view.

  Son-of-a-bitch he thought as he looked at the house. Someone who could afford such a place needed more space? He needed to destroy the very existence of the Walkers?

  The speedometer on the old truck bounced between 75 and 80. Eric simply couldn’t get there fast enough.

  At the turn, Eric skidded his truck through the arched, iron gateway. Some people were full of themselves. How was it that his mother had come from this family? It was no surprise that she had left.

  The circle drive in front of the house was filled with cars. It was no surprise to find his uncle’s car there, but to find his father’s—that threw him into a state that he couldn’t even wrap his head around.

  Eric slammed on his brakes and stopped just inches from his uncle’s back bumper. He could have cared less about destroying the man’s car, but it would have been a shame to put a dent in the truck.

  A woman ran from the side of the house. “You could kill someone driving like that. Who do you think you are?”

  He had no idea who the woman who stood perhaps just inches over five feet with the short wispy hair was, but she was familiar enough to him. There was a resemblance to his mother in her and that ached in his chest. Whoever she was, he was probably related to her.

  “I’m Eric Walker and I’m looking for Elias Morgan, and I’m not leaving until I talk to him.”

  Her eyes opened wide and she stopped a mere foot from him. The anger seemed to defuse in her eyes—eyes that matched his mother’s.

  “Eric,” she said softly.

  “Where is he? I have little patience to sit here and have discussions with total strangers.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “He’s busy right now.”

  Eric looked around at all the cars. “I see that. You know what, I’ll find him my damn self.”

  He pushed past her. His long legs took him closer to the house as she turned to jog after him. “Eric, wait. You can’t go in there. Eric!” She shouted just as a man opened the front door and stepped out.

  “What’s going on?”

  The woman caught up to him. She panted for breath. “He’s looking for grandpa,” she said and that had Eric tightening his jaw.

  So she was a cousin. What a way to meet kin.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” the man said as he moved toward Eric. “Why don’t you get back into that piece of crap truck of yours and go home.”

  Anger boiled inside of Eric, but the words to argue wouldn’t surface. He simply couldn’t take his eyes off the man in front of him.

  They stood eye to eye. All six foot, four inches of them were the same—the same build, the same eyes, and obviously the same fever to be in charge of the situation.

  “I’m not leaving until I talk to Elias.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed on him. “You’ll have to go through me.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?” Eric grit his teeth and fisted his hands at his side.

  The man smiled. “Like I said, you’re not going in unless you go through me.”

  The anger that had balled up inside Eric released into his veins. He pushed into the man with all intent to push past him, only to find the man’s shoulder forcing itself into his shoulder. A moment later the man’s hands were on his chest pushing him back.

  “I’m trying to save you from yourself. Go home.”

  Eric shook his head and charged toward the man. He could hear the woman behind them squeal and beg them to stop, but it was too late.

  The man threw the first punch, which landed right in Eric’s gut. Forcing himself to not hunch over, he brought his right fist up with an uppercut to the man’s jaw, knocking him off balance for only a moment before the man opened a full assault on him.

  Eric was only aware that the woman had run inside the house yelling. Both men continued their battery of the other. Eric had been hit in the eye, the cheek, the mouth—but he’d landed just as many punches on the man who looked so similar to him.

  “Break it up. Break it up!” He heard his father’s voice say and a moment later two sets of arms pried the men apart.

  Each of them hunched over to catch their breath.

  Eric’s cheek and lip stung and his eye was freaking going to swell shut. He spit blood on the ground and felt the wave of nausea roll through him. He was not going to puke. He’d die before he did something cowardly like that in front of relatives he’d never met.

  When he could focus, he saw Elias Morgan in the doorway of the house.

  “No good will ever come from him being here,” he said, his words directly aimed at Eric.

  Eric spat more blood on the ground.

  “Grandpa, you shouldn’t speak like that to people,” the soft voice of the woman came from behind Elias. “He’s kin.”

  “Not mine.” Elias turned and walked back into the house.

  It was incredible ho
w hollow two words could make a man feel, Eric thought.

  “What are you doing?” His father moved toward him resting his hand on his shoulder. “What have you gotten into?”

  “They poisoned the horses. They poisoned the cattle. He wants the land, Dad. He wants to move mom. They’re trying to run us out. I’m not going to stand for that.”

  His father shook his head. “Go home.”

  Eric opened his eyes as wide as he could and focused them on his father. “I’m not going to lose everything I’ve built because some old man has a grudge against you.”

  “Go home, Eric.”

  His father’s even tone still could stop him at forty. He didn’t like how weak it made him feel.

  But when his father gave him a nod and that simple look it said that things were under control. Everett Walker had obviously taken care of the matter at hand. It didn’t calm Eric. He’d like to have taken a few more shots at the man who was now being comforted by the woman.

  Eric pressed the back of his hand to his eye. “I’m not losing my home. They cost me my business today. I’m not giving up on this.”

  “Go home,” his father said softly, but sternly. He then turned to the others. “Lydia and Tyson, tell your grandfather I will be back in the morning. We’re not done discussing things.”

  The woman nodded. Eric’s father pressed his hands to Eric’s shoulder and turned him toward his truck.

  “Go home and get washed up. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  The tone was the same as when he was a child in trouble. There was an angry undertone beneath the calm exterior. Though this time Eric thought it might not be because he’d been fighting with some unknown cousin, but it might be because his own father was equally as angry.

  Eric gave him a nod, opened the door to his truck, and climbed in.

  His father walked toward his car, but waited for Eric to drive away before he climbed in. Eric could see him follow him out of the gates of the Morgan’s estate.

  Why was his father taking this in stride? They were killing off animals—their business. They couldn’t sit by and watch the Morgans destroy what they’d built—or destroy them.

  The shower Eric took actually hurt. His knuckles were bruised and so was his shoulder. His left eye was nearly swollen shut and the gash on his lip was going to have him choosing his food wisely for the next week.

  When he’d slipped on a new pair of jeans, he pulled on a worn out T-shirt and headed to the living room to gather his hat. He needed to check on Whiskey River.

  His father’s presence on his couch should have startled him, but deep down he’d expected him.

  “I have to check on Whiskey River,” he said moving toward his boots.

  “You have a few minutes. Sit,” his father demanded without looking up at him.

  Eric sucked in a breath and moved to the chair across from his father.

  Everett Walker was built just like Eric. He was tall and sturdy, but he could contain his feelings without punching people. Eric seemed to be still learning that.

  His father’s arms rested on his knees and his fingers were steepled. This meant he was deep in thought.

  “I don’t want you going over to the Morgan’s again, do I make myself clear?”

  “I need answers.”

  “Do I make myself clear?”

  Eric bit down. “Yes.”

  “Elias had nothing to do with the misfortune we’ve had.”

  “Misfortune?” The word had Eric shooting up out of his chair. “Horses are dead. Cattle are dead. Misfortune?”

  “Sit,” his father said calmly and Eric did so. “I’ve known Elias my whole life. If he says he didn’t do something, he didn’t. Besides he has legitimate alibis for his whereabouts the past few days.”

  “So he paid someone. He certainly wouldn’t have done that himself.” Even Eric knew that.

  “Don’t go back there,” his father said as he rose and Eric followed. “Byron messed up, but I keep my word. No one will suffer. Not Byron, not you, and not Elias Morgan.”

  “How can you care about him?”

  “He’s part of you, Eric. That’s blood.”

  His father’s words stung as badly as the cut on his lip. “Who were the others? Lydia and Tyson?”

  “Your mother had a brother who was killed in combat in Desert Storm. Lydia and Tyson are his children.”

  “I can’t believe I live ten miles from family I’ve never met.”

  His father nodded. “Elias was very clear on that matter many years ago. I wonder if he’d reconsider now.” He moved toward the door. “You do have your gun nearby don’t you?”

  “Always,” Eric said slowly. “Why?”

  “I believe our problems are not Elias Morgan, but that troubles me too. Because I don’t know who is behind all of this. Protect yourself,” he said as he opened the door and walked out of the house.

  Eric watched as his father drove away, then put on his hat and walked out to the barn.

  Ben was sitting with Whiskey River now and Dr. Parks hovered over him.

  “It won’t be long now,” Dr. Parks said and Eric felt the heaviness of grief swell in his chest. “He’s comfortable though.”

  Eric moved toward the large animal that lay in his stall on his side. He knelt down next to his nose and gently stroked him.

  “I’m sorry buddy,” he said as a tear welled in his eye. “I’ll avenge this.”

  Ben looked at him. “You know who did this?”

  Eric bit down on his lower lip. “Not yet, but someone will pay for it.”

  Whisky River nudged Eric’s hand with his nose as if to say goodbye and then he was gone.