Page 8 of Fierce Protector

All was silent, the ranch asleep. The big sky was always something that comforted him no matter which part of the world he was in.

Moving through the grass toward the barn disturbed a family of crickets, and they chirped louder. With more caution, he approached the corner of the building. A few weeks back, he’d sneaked up on a trespasser.

A swift rifle butt to the back of the skull had dropped the man, then he and Hunter had dragged him off to the police.

Steadying his breathing, he rounded the corner, prepared for ambush.

Nothing was in sight.

At that moment, he heard a thump, followed by a ruckus. A horse issued a loud squeal that turned into a bellow.

Big bodies hit the stall walls. Fuck—something was going on in the barn.

With his finger on the safety of his gun, prepared to flick it off and take out the threat, Ledger rushed in.

His footsteps were drowned out by the stomping and screaming of a frightened animal. He didn’t switch on the lights but didn’t need to—his night vision was excellent. Plus, he needed the darkness to conceal himself.

He stalked around the big barn, throwing out his hearing. The horse in the back issued another screech. Stall by stall, he moved in the shadows, making a full sweep of the barn.

One horse hadn’t calmed and was still thrashing in the back stall. With his senses on high alert, he unhooked the metal hook holding the door shut and eased inside with the frantic horse. It shifted from side to side, head bobbing.

Ledger smelled the iron of fresh blood, and his stomach twisted like someone jammed a knife in it.

It was injured. Bleeding a lot.

The horse needed attention, but safety came first. He needed to check out the area.

He closed the door and sprinted through the barn, swinging his gun left and right as he went, prepared to shoot to kill if it came to that.

Outside, he ran the perimeter of the building, checking all the places a person could hide.

When he was certain they were clear for the moment, he ran into the barn. Grabbing a blanket on the way past a shelf, he hurried to the stall where the bleeding horse was lodged.

Not a ranch horse. The rodeo horse. Meadow’s pride and joy—the one that was worth a fortune.

When he entered the stall, he made soothing noises to calm the animal. Easing forward slowly, he leaned his rifle in the corner within reach and crouched near the horse.

It was bleeding a lot. More than he wanted to see.

He had to try to staunch the flow.

He wrapped the blanket around the horse’s bleeding leg and knotted the fabric, tugging to tighten it.

The horse let out a scream like the hounds of hell were nipping at its hooves. Something had taken a piece of the animal, that was for damn sure.

He yanked his phone out of his back pocket and quickly dialed Colton.

His friend’s groggy voice filtered out.

“In the barn. Come armed. Bring Hunter.”

“Fuck!” Colton didn’t say another word, just ended the call.

Seconds later, the guys blasted in, shirtless, wearing only jeans and boots and packing heat.

“Back here! We need a vet,” Ledger called out.

“Hunter, grab the others. All hands on deck and on patrol.” Colton reached the stall first. One look and he cringed. “Fuck me—Meadow’s horse.”

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