ANIMAL MAGIC

Chapter 8

Chris began to roll up the map they'd spread on the floor while Buck and JD began the important task of gathering beer and nuts. The militia group's 'security' was about as useful a block as a sieve; apart from a few middle-aged overweight die-hard originals, most of the group's membership were large, local lummoxes with little between their ears other than their skulls, twentysomething loafers who swaggered around impressing women and other local layabouts – or so they fondly believed.

Due to their constant inebriated bragging, Team 7 soon learned that on Friday virtually the entire group was going on a trip to harass a newly-opened Southern Black Baptist church, which would leave the stockade with only a 'skeleton crew' – plus Holbachstein. Josiah had contacted the minister, and Larabee the local PD – the church-attacking group would have a few seconds to incriminate themselves and would then all be arrested on a variety of minor and major charges by the waiting LEOs.

Once the main group had driven off, Team 7 would take the surveillance van out into the wilds, then circle back through the forest on foot and come at the stockade through the forest proper to the North, instead of the previously used FBI tactic of approaching from the South West. Director Orrin Travis, still under the impression that Ezra was dead, had given Chris carte blanche for Team 7 to undertake the mission and to do so alone, since more personnel meant a greater likelihood of being spotted. Once they had Holbachstein, they would get him to reverse the process and they would then miraculously 'discover' Ezra dishevelled but alive in the stockade.

"We'll get him, Ezra." JD encouraged as he came back into the room with bowls of popcorn, potato chips and savoury nuts clutched precariously in his arms.

Ezra inclined his head but made no other response. He refused to yowl and growl, and typing was not only slow, but quickly became painful to curved claws designed to slice and dice not pound a keyboard.

That first weekend at Chris's ranch, after they'd talked everything to death (and Nathan had insisted on giving Ezra a physical examination), Ezra had used the keyboard to relay as much information as he could recall, including the locations of the drugs he'd smelled en route into Denver. He'd also conveyed his fears of self-loss, and his relief that though his physical form changed, he remained quintessentially Ezra. That had started off Josiah on one of his long explanations about the immutability of the Soul versus the transubstantiation of the flesh, which had left them all glassy eyed, but that marathon type-athon had been enough for feline muscles and claws.

During that first weekend, Chris had got Orrin and Evie Travis to take their step-granddaughters for the weekend, but Ezra had used the computer to assure Chris he was fine staying in the ample outlying areas of the ranch. Shortly after the recession began in 2008, a development company offered Chris Larabee the opportunity to extend the acreage of his family's ancestral horse stud ranch by a healthy amount of square mileage at a below-market value price. The development company rep admitted to Chris that the company needed a quick sale and liquid assets, having bought up the small 'dude' ranches and dilettante vacation places surrounding Four Corners, including those with vital water access rights, for an inflated price only to be scuppered by the recession before they could turn the land into a suburgatory of Denver City by concreting it over.

Again not an extravagant man financially, Chris and Mary had been able to afford most of the asking price by putting in half each and covered the remainder with a small loan. Mary had made Chris's mind up by urging him to buy it and trying to give him a considerable sum of her savings to help out, telling him that the Four Corners ranch 'isn't just land, it was and is a lifeline, not just for me but for Billy and everyone…the ability to just walk or ride and let all the stress and pressure of my life – our lives – seep out of our soul is priceless...to do what we want secure in the fact that this is our land and I can build a camp fire or a rope swing without issue…to have wide open vistas full of pure air and light and space…this place has done a lot to keep Billy and me – and Stephen's parents - sane, and I know for a fact being able to come here has stopped Vin Tanner cracking up altogether…'

Chris's long-time and exceptionally capable ranch manager had put together a business plan to run the smaller ranches as vacation cabins, tourist-trap 'real cowboy lifestyle' vacation experiences, and 'premium range' luxury beef cattle pasturage. The result was that the now much larger Four Corners ranch had been in the black in every year since 2008 and he and Mary had repaid the loan in full just last year, three years ahead of schedule and now owned the land outright.

Chris had, again at Mary's tactful suggestion, extended and refurbished the ranch house fixtures and infrastructure such as the water storage and heating and food stores, to cater for the fact that six men and their assorted Significant Others Plus were usually to be found here on almost every free weekend. Each of the other six men had their own 'guest' bedroom, dating back from when Chris's great-great-great-grandfather Larabee had had the original ranch house built in the early 1800s and ranchers and their wives tended to have 'dynastic' ambitions to go with their lack of contraception and a dozen kids were the norm.

However until Chris's upgrade the main house hadn't been decorated or refurbished as such other than being kept clean by his weekly housekeeper in a very long time, for an acutely painful reason. Exasperated by her own father Hank's intransigence over her own family knick-knacks, not realising he was sliding into grief-fuelled mental illness from losing her mother, Sarah Connelly Larabee had had all her husband's family heirlooms and keepsakes and furniture carefully labelled, taken away and restored and stored safely ready to be brought back to Four Corners when her and Chris – and Adam's – family project to redecorate the main ranch house was complete.

That had been two months before Cletus Fowler, paid by Chris's deranged ex-lover Ella Gaines to murder Sarah Larabee, had launched his arson attack and killed both her and their son Adam whilst Buck and Chris were coming back from their latest service mission, so all the Larabee family 'treasures' – except the living ones – had survived. Gradually over the years Chris had been bringing the odd bits and pieces back out of storage, but the birth of the twins had speeded up the process, and although it was unspoken it was clear he had found having the ranch house refurbished therapeutic on several levels.

Yet again, nobody had any idea that the development company had only one ultimate owner, and E.P. Standish had made sure the entire ranch would remain in the Larabee family for a very long time to come, structuring the ownership deeds so that, if necessary, future heirs could sell off or long-term lease small parcels of the acreage to alleviate financial pressures rather than having all or nothing facing them.

Now, Ezra considered his current options; his normal response when Team 7 gathered at Chris's ranch of a weekend to watch the game was to retreat to Chris's cosy, book-lined den that was separated from the larger room by an arch and lose himself in something edifying or entertaining; as the assorted ladies attached to Team 7's agents would have already taken themselves off to do far more interesting things without menfolk getting underfoot – it was amazing how many girls-only spa weekends happened to fall on the same dates as the football, or hockey, or baseball. Unfortunately, while he could – barely - read as a snow leopard, there was no way he could cope with his long-range cat eyes straining to focus consistently on small, black print.

Josiah settled himself in the huge, stuffed armchair that had moulded itself to his impressive frame nicely over time; Nathan took the other armchair and JD sprawled out on the small two-seat couch; JD often forgot himself as he got wrapped up in the game and after several incidents of having beer and butter-soaked popcorn upended in their laps, the others had insisted he be the sole occupant of the couch. Ezra alone had spotted a gleam of triumph in the youngest team-member's eyes – Mr Dunne had indeed grown up into a shrewd man.

The huge, antique four seater couch had been passed down through generations of Larabees, hand-carved by a Welsh craftsman from a single massive English Oak, and it didn't even flinch under the combined weight of the sprawled Chris, Vin and Buck. Ezra narrowed his eyes; he wasn't going to curl up on the floor like some damned house pet, and since he couldn't read –

"HEY!"

"EZRA!"

Only Vin was fast enough to jerk up his beer and bowl of snacks as a large snow leopard suddenly jumped up and sprawled full length across all their knees, settling his head comfortably on his paws that rested on Chris's legs while his long tail whacked Buck in the face before settling down with Vin in the middle. Realising that to push the big cat off would be both foolish and very painful if – when – it dugs its claws into their legs, the three disgruntled men settled back down, firmly placing their bowls of goodies on Ezra's back and ignoring the sniggers of Josiah, JD and Nathan.

Their irritation didn't last; as the game went on first Vin, then Buck then Chris absently stroked the soft silky fur of the large, warm, living comforter and gradually a serene quiet fell over the room. The TV played to itself on low as Nathan and JD snored softly in duet. Aware that the three men he was sat on were also dozing, Ezra remained still. Looking up, his eyes met those of Josiah; the big ex-priest smiled gently at the tableau, especially as Chris had both hands resting on Ezra, like a little boy cuddling a pet.

Continued in Chapter 9…

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