The Family

Chapter 1

…

He resettled himself into the warmth of the saddle, trying to ease the dull pain in his hip. It hadn't been the first time he'd had a horse fall on him, but he did hope it was his last. Grimacing as a shot of white-hot pain streaked down his left leg, he admitted this might not have been his best idea. But he needed to get away from everyone and the constant pampering. He was tired of trying to convince everyone he was fine, and definitely not happy when certain people kept telling him he might be getting too old to train cutting horses.

"Bullshit," quietly huffing out the rare cuss word he was growing quite fond of.

It had been over two months, and he'd missed riding. Just sitting on Honcho listening to the bugle calls of the elk down in the meadow made him feel alive again. All those days in the hospital with doctors not giving him straight answers, too cheery nurses pestering him over and over with the same damn questions and cleaning up his messes had taken something out of him. It had left him embarrassed and feeling less of a man. There had been no solitude, just frustration, and the low hum of anger. He had been mad at himself for letting the fall happen in the first place, and constantly tried to remember what he had done wrong to make the Appaloosa cut loose and slam him into the ground. He had missed the ranch. Missed the daily routine of feeding the horses and listening to them munch and snuffle through their oats and alfalfa. He'd even missed the smells. When he eventually got home, no one would let him do anything. It had made him grumpy. He knew they were just trying to protect him, but that didn't make it any easier to stomach. Littleshield had been particularly aggravating, castigating him in Arapaho when he'd managed to hobble out to the barn to stare at the spotted horse that had landed him in the hospital. His cousin had always believed the horse had a malevolent spirit and couldn't understand why he kept him after what had happened. Littleshield argued that he should sell him or move him up to Elan's place, which Elan hadn't wanted to do. He didn't win that argument and the next day the horse was gone.

The whole thing made him mad. He felt as though he'd lost control of his own life. He felt weak, which only made him angrier. But, feeling sorry for himself hadn't gotten him anywhere, and the damn horse at the center of it all had managed to escape Elan's corral and was somewhere up in these mountains making mischief and probably feeling damn proud of himself. He halfway hoped a bear would scare the bejesus out of it, but regretted the thought almost immediately. The horse's original owner had named him Heck, explaining that his wife, a religious woman, didn't approve of the name Hellion, even though that's what he was. George wasn't sure why he'd taken him on. Too much pride, probably.

The morning sun felt good on his face, and he was glad the wind had died to a whisper of what it had been when he'd started out in the dark. Early October was his favorite time to be up in the mountains. The stark yellow of the aspens always made him think of Josie. She had always loved fall, and every year they would come up to this spot for a picnic. It offered a view of Bridger Peak and there were a series of small pools along the creek thanks to the beaver. Whenever they'd come, the meadow always seemed to have a few elk to watch and comment on. He missed listening to her make up silly stories about them, why one cow was more popular than another or why a certain bull didn't have a chance in hell of succeeding. He hadn't even minded sharing a few of his own stories because the funny ones always made her laugh. She'd had a girlish laugh that he had never grown tired of. Recalling those long-ago days made him melancholy, and it made him sad that Soldier never got the chance to know her. Marty either. She would have taken to them both. Marty was flying in today, even though he had tried to talk him out of coming. He didn't need another watchdog.

Honcho suddenly pricked his ears and quivered, snorting as he turned to face something off to their left. George listened attentively as he tried to calm his buckskin. Might be an animal since it was too early to be hunting elk, not that there weren't poachers around. Honcho suddenly swung his head in the other direction and snorted again. George reined him in tight and decided it might be wise to head down toward the meadow in case a bear was close by. The sharp crack of a rifle made him yank Honcho to a halt. He turned to see a bull elk go down, setting the others moving with purpose toward the trees. Now uncertain, George urged Honcho toward the slope, but flushed with anger when another bullet thumped into the trunk of the lodgepole pine beside him.

"Pull up, old man," a voice called out behind him.

A second armed man stepped into the open below. "Nice horse."

He was wearing a black baseball cap, an expensive looking camo outfit, and aviator glasses that made him look like he was trying too hard to be a badass. He was smiling arrogantly as he approached, his scoped rifle held at the ready. Honcho snorted, moving uneasily, and George could feel his muscles tensing beneath him.

"What's your name?" George asked.

"Now that's kind of a personal question, don't you think?"

"You made it personal when you took a shot at me," George replied.

"Maybe it was an accident," the man said smoothly.

"I doubt that."

"Sounds like you're calling me a liar," he said as he moved towards him.

"If you're not, apologize and I'll be on my way," George said.

"You're not being very neighborly, mister."

"I know all my neighbors. I don't know you, or your friend behind me."

"I don't see any neighbors around, old man. Seems to me you're out here all alone, except for this fine looking horse," he said and reached out toward Honcho's muzzle.

Honcho bit him and squealed, his hind legs lashing out, slamming into the man behind him.

"Fuck!"

George loosened the reins and kicked Honcho into overdrive, crashing into the man trying to stem the blood pouring from his hand, sending his rifle flying sideways. They charged down out of the trees and cut sharply around a granite outcropping. A bullet pinged off the rock and he could smell the pulverized granite as he galloped past. He pointed Honcho downhill toward the stand of pine the elk had disappeared into, cutting around oversized boulders as he tried to keep out of the line of fire. He knew there were three of them, but had no idea where the third person was. Whoever had shot the elk hadn't headed out into the meadow to claim his kill. Not that he had time to look carefully with all the bullets flying around him. He wove Honcho through the massive lodgepole pines that stepped out into the meadow, hoping the dense darkness of the forest would swallow them. It didn't. The bark of the tree beside him splintered as a bullet clipped it. Before he could rein Honcho in another direction the big animal bellowed and stumbled. The bastard had shot his horse. The big buckskin managed to right himself for a moment, but suddenly slammed into the trunk of a pine, sending George to the ground in a tangle of branches. Stunned and in numbing pain, he steeled himself, taking in shallow breaths, waiting for his mind to clear and for his leg to stop throbbing. Neither seemed to be happening, but the gunfire had stopped. Maybe they thought he was dead. Maybe he was because the world was suddenly silent. No bird songs. No elk bugling. Just a fog of pain and a distinct ringing in his ears.

When he could breathe again, he searched for his horse. Honcho stood a ways off with his head down. Blood streaked down his hind leg from a wound in his rump, scaring George badly. He'd had him for almost twelve years and the thought of losing him was painful. It also made him deeply angry. There had been no reason for those men to shoot at him in the first place and he wondered why they had. Who the hell were they? Poachers for sure, but the odd thing was, the man who confronted him didn't look like a poacher, at least not like any from around here. He didn't look local and he sure as hell didn't look as if he needed the meat. Probably trophy hunters, but why shoot at him? The man Honcho had bitten looked as if he could afford the fine for hunting out of season. At the moment George had no answers, just a helluva lot of questions. One thing he did know…he had to get moving because they were angry now, or they wouldn't have kept firing at him.

He gingerly pushed himself up off the ground and eased over to lean his back against the pine, grateful he hadn't busted his leg all over again. Every move was painful, but he needed to get to his feet and check on Honcho. Hopefully the wound was superficial, but if the buckskin couldn't carry him, he was in big trouble. No way would he be able to walk out of here on his own.

…

Deeks smiled when he saw Lily wave from the edge of the airport crowd waiting for passengers. She wore tight black jeans with knee high leather boots, an embroidered suede vest over her pale blue chambray shirt, and a large lavender silk scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. She somehow managed to look western and French at the same time. Her blond hair was still short but looked more carefree than he remembered. She was a real stunner, and he saw several men steal glances at her as she moved to intercept him. After what she'd been through the last time he'd seen her, it was her smile that affected him the most. She had almost died at the hands of an infamous assassin known as The Scarab, tortured along with Elan as some sort of demented offering to the underworld evil that possessed him. That she could smile after that was impressive, especially since he shivered at the memory and at the fear that sometimes still haunted his nightmares.

"Bienvenue. C'est tellement bon de te voir, Marty," she breathed out as she kissed him on both cheeks.

"As I'm sure you already know…I've failed every French lesson Kensi's attempted," he laughed. "But whatever you said sounded…well…French. And sexy, of course."

"I won't tell her you said that. It was only a kind greeting, mon frère. In English…It is good to see you again. You look well."

"And you're gorgeous as always," he replied, laughing when a man in a cowboy hat walked by and gave him a thumbs up.

"But some scars remain, mon ami," she said quietly, and he pulled her into a gentle hug.

"How's Elan?"

"Still overly protective."

"Understandably."

"But he won't talk about it, Marty," she said and took his arm as they walked down the concourse. "But when your name is mentioned…the look on his face…it brings tears to both our eyes, mon frère. We would not have this time together without you."

He looked away as the memories rushed back. He still carried a residue of guilt, even though he had killed the sonofabitch who'd done his damnedest to kill them all.

"And Joe?"

"You know he is back as deputy sheriff full time now, oui?"

"I heard."

"But today he is babysitting. He cannot get enough of his petite bébé girl and Christopher," Lily giggled, something he'd never heard her do before. "Di just started working part time at the hospital, and Joe is taking advantage of having the little ones all to himself. He is a good father."

"No surprise there. I knew Joy would wrap him around her tiny little finger," Deeks said wistfully. "He's a lucky man."

"This will happen for you and Kensi one day soon, mon ami," she said softly. "And where is your beautiful wife? I had planned a soirée de fille."

"How's that? Wait. That means no men, right?" Deeks said with a raised eyebrow and grin. "None of us allowed to show up and defend ourselves?"

"Exactement."

"She's testifying before a Congressional committee," he replied. "Don't ask. Now tell me how George is doing. He didn't sound happy during our last phone call."

"He keeps telling us he is tough and that we worry too much," Lily said.

"He is tough…"

"And independent. And grouchy. And stubborn," she said, ticking them off on her fingers one by one. "He says we are babying him."

"Are you?"

"Of course we are," she said with a smile. "He has trouble walking, Marty, and refuses to use a walker. He insists he would do better on a horse."

"But Uncle Jim and Elan aren't letting him do that…are they?"

"He snuck out early this morning," she replied. "Left a note that said he was tired of being pampered. Elan wanted to go after him, but Uncle Jim talked him out of it…at least for the moment."

"Why?"

"He thinks it will teach him a lesson," she replied. "They are dear old men who have their own way of dealing with things. Even badly broken legs. By the time I left, Elan was furious. He is going after George whether Jim wants him to or not. He's just waiting for you."

"What about Soldier?" Deeks asked as he threw his carry-on in the back of the truck. "It's Saturday. He could have gone with him and saved time."

She smiled sadly at him but remained silent as she drove out of the parking lot. Something was off, but he didn't want to push. Their family situation had become complicated now that Lily had moved in permanently. George had hinted at the tension in his last phone call. Even though Soldier liked Lily, George thought he had become a little jealous.

"He's a teenager, Lily," Deeks finally said softly.

"I have no experience with teenagers or children of any age, Marty," she said. "My family… it's complicated, mon frère."

"When you're talking complicated families, Lily, you're preaching to the choir."

"Je ne comprends pas ce mot. What do you mean? Choir?"

"I mean…been there, done that…got the t-shirt," he said with a laugh.

"Now you are just teasing me," she replied, sounding slightly miffed. "A t-shirt will fix nothing."

He laughed out loud, and she punched him in the arm, but finally smiled. "Tu es un idiot."

They chatted easily after that. He asked after the horses and dogs, discovering Elan had gotten her a pit bull. He was a rescue and had been badly abused, but apparently had taken to Lily in a big way. She knew Elan had gotten him for her protection, and had been angry at first, arguing that she could take care of herself. She said he had simply stared at her until she realized that he was still scared after what had happened to her. So, she had accepted the big gray dog and giggled again as she told him about his goofy antics and the bond that was growing between them.

"I named him Aramis because he is both a defender and a lover," she said.

"One of the Three Musketeers," Deeks grinned. "Which one are you?"

"I am the Queen, of course," she laughed.

"Yes, you are. And Elan?"

"He is like Athos. He wants to protect everyone, especially his family. He sees it as his duty…his mission," she replied, her voice softening as she spoke. "Losing even one person…it would crush him."

"After what happened, I'm not surprised he's become even more vigilant," Deeks said.

"He kept mumbling in Arapaho this morning. He is so angry that George went go off on his own like this."

"Like you said…George can be stubborn. Likes to do things his way."

"And we all treasure him."

"Yeah…we do. I don't even want to think about losing George."

The thought shook him. The man had been a father to him for a long time. He couldn't imagine the ranch or his own life without him. It made him anxious. Lily seemed to realize his emotions were raw and accelerated, which for once Deeks didn't mind.

…

Trekking up into the Sierra Madre on the back of a horse did nothing for Deeks' mood or his backside, especially at the pace Elan was setting. Once he had cut across George's trail he hadn't slowed unless he lost the track, and that was never for long. Soldier brought up the rear. He hadn't spoken to his father since they'd saddled up, and then it had just been yes or no answers. Elan looked pained, but remained stoic, intent on his obsession with finding George. Deeks could tell Soldier was worried as well but wouldn't talk about it when Deeks had asked. The tension between the boy and his father bothered him. He had to remind himself how volatile a teenager's emotions could be. And it wasn't hard to tell that Lily was the cause. The boy hadn't said one word to Lily when they'd arrived at the ranch, and it was obvious that his rudeness hurt her and angered his father.

Soldier looked warily at him when he pulled up to ride beside the boy. "Got anything in your gear for a sore butt? Mine's starting to feel like raw hamburger on a hot grill."

The soft smile he remembered appeared for the first time. "Sorry, Uncle Deeks. Guess you don't ride much in LA."

"Surfboards only," he laughed. "When you coming out for your next surfing lesson?"

"Maybe I can come home with you after we find Grandpa George," he said. "Maybe stay awhile."

"What about school?"

"It's mostly online now anyway," he replied.

"We'd have to ask your dad you know," he said. "He'd miss you."

"No he wouldn't," the boy snapped. "He's got Lily now."

"You're his son, Soldier. He loves you, and I have a feeling Lily would too if you cut her some slack."

"She ain't my mama," he hissed.

"I don't think she's trying to be," Deeks replied. "She just wants to be your friend right now."

"Papa and I were doing okay by ourselves," he replied. "She moved in and changed everything."

"They love each other, Soldier. What do you want them to do?"

"I don't know," he said softly. "But he wants to be with her all the time."

"So, you're jealous?"

"No I'm not."

Deeks laughed. "Oh, buddy…You sure as hell sound jealous. Come on. You used to like Lily. What's going on, kid?"

They rode in silence while the kid struggled with his emotions. He had grown up in an abusive situation, his mother in a relationship with a violent ex-bull rider named Billy, who beat them both. The man's family, the Freitas clan, had been involved in a wide range of illegal activities run by the mother, Vera Freitas, a cruel and vindictive sociopath. Along with Lily, he and Kensi had gone to Santa Fe with Elan to find the son he had never seen. The situation had ended in violence and the death of Soldier's mother, Bella. He was only eleven years old when Elan brought him home to the ranch.

"Billy used to kick me out of the house so he could have mama all to himself," the boy said quietly. "I didn't have nothin' or nobody back then except mama…until Papa came."

"So now you want him all to yourself, just like Billy wanted your mom? Does that seem fair to you?"

The boy looked shocked by the comparison, his eyes wide and dark with questions.

"Don't you want your father to be happy?"

"Yeah… I do, but…"

"I know how painful it was for you when your mom was killed," Deeks said. "Don't lose your dad too. Don't make him choose between you and Lily. No question you'll win that battle because you're his son, but he won't be happy. It will hurt him, Soldier. Don't ruin what you have here, buddy. Share it. Let Lily be part of your family like you let me."

The boy stared at him for a moment, his dark eyes turbulent and uncertain. He didn't say anything before kicking his pinto, guiding the horse down the trail toward his father. Deeks blew out his breath a couple of times, pulling Sheila to a halt to give the boy time to talk with Elan. When he heard a shout out in Arapaho, he was afraid they were having an argument and moved to catch up. He had to kick his mare to keep up with them as they raced through the trees. What he saw was a shock.

Honcho stood alone in a small clearing, his head hanging almost to the ground. Elan was off his horse and searching the surrounding area, while Soldier was running his hands over the quivering buckskin.

"Papa? He's bleeding."

Elan was beside him in an instant, his anger palpable when he looked up at Deeks.

"He's been shot."

Deeks was stunned, and suddenly scared to death. "Is there blood on the saddle?"

"No," Elan replied, his voice strained as he ran his hand over the rump of the weary horse. "I don't think it's too serious, but he's lost a lot of blood. Soldier…I need you to get him home. Call the vet as soon as you can get a signal. We'll backtrack and find George."

"But Papa…why did he leave Grandpa George? He trained Honcho to stand if he got off. He helped me train Sarge to do that."

"Something sure spooked him," Elan replied.

"Somebody with a rifle," Deeks said as he slowly dismounted. "And that scares the shit outa me."

"We'll find him, Cuz."

"I didn't bring a weapon, Elan," Deeks said, stung by the look he received.

"I did, and so did George," he replied and yanked a hunting rifle out of the scabbard on Honcho's saddle.

"So, he's out here unarmed with a bad leg," Deeks said, his anger and fear almost choking him.

The three of them surrounded the horse, each one reaching out to touch the animal as if it would comfort them. The big buckskin was a part of George, a man who had made a difference in each one of their lives. He was the heart of the Atwood family, and Deeks was chilled by what it would mean if that heart had stopped beating. He wasn't sure he knew how to deal with that possibility.

"We gotta move, Cuz," Elan said gently. "Call Uncle Joe, Soldier. Tell him what we found. Try not to scare him."

"Good luck with that," Deeks said as he stroked the neck of the exhausted horse, trying to calm his own fear.

"Why would someone shoot at Grandpa George?" Soldier asked. "Maybe it was an accident, Papa."

"I hope it was," Deeks said as he climbed back up on Sheila. "But If it wasn't, whoever shot at him just pissed off the wrong family."

…

…