26. Isobel
I bask in the late Fall sunlight as I march along the gravel path heading from the barn to the Pound, studiously ignoring the duo of heavy footsteps crunching along behind me.
The gods save me from overprotective brothers!
In the three days since I was rudely awoken by the beast’s arrival, I seem to have grown an additional pair of shadows. They’re already here by the time I wake up, and only leave once I head to bed, although I suspect they’re sleeping in the barn. Any time I step outside the boundaries they’ve set for me, either Dane, Dillon, or them both are right there behind me, breathing down my neck. The only peace I seem to be able to get is when I go to the bathroom. Even they seem to draw the line at watching me pee or shower.
I can’t even complain to Paw Paw. The one time I tried, he pulled out his phone, pulled up my da’s number, and hovered his finger over the call icon.
Well played, you old coot. But I’ll have my revenge!
Since I have a double extra helping of hands, I haven’t slacked off in putting them to work. The occupied pens are all fully prepared for a Canadian snowstorm—even though we’re in Louisiana—and the empty ones are having a thorough overhaul. The large animal enclosures have been fully mucked out, as has the barn, and this afternoon my brothers will discover the enormous order of medical and feed supplies that need to be collected from Baton Rouge. I could have had them delivered, or even arranged for collection somewhere closer like Alexandria, of course, but that was before they got all up in my business.
I have to find my joy somewhere.
The lion is healing well and seems to be accustomed to human handlers. He hasn’t flinched or fought against us whenever we’ve had to sedate him to tend to his injuries, although his interest does seem to perk up whenever I enter the room. He completely ignores my brothers and Paw Paw, though.
The temperature drops several degrees as I enter the shadowy interior of the Pound. The building itself holds four rooms—two concrete enclosures, one on either side of the building, a storage room at the rear that holds all the larger pieces of equipment, and the main entry which doubles as a clinic and preparation point. One side is set up as a treatment space, complete with metal lockers and cabinets that I’ve filled with medical equipment and supplies, and the other is home to several chest freezers full of meat, a couple of large refrigerators, an enormous stainless-steel sink and bench top running along the wall, and tubs filled with feed, supplements, and enrichment aids.
I’m silent as I move around the space, still ignoring the presence of my brothers, smiling internally at the discomfort this gives them.
“Aww, c’mon now, Iz, enough with the silent treatment. We’re here to help you out, and instead you’re treating us like shit. Stop being such a bitch about it all.”
I still my movements, biting down hard on my lower lip to stop the vicious words forming on my tongue from slipping out. I take several deep breaths, calming my ire. When I feel confident enough that I won’t flay my idiot brothers alive with my words, I lean down and pick up the two-by-four we use to prop open the doors when cleaning and turn to face them.
Dillon is glaring at Dane, who has turned pale under his tan. While my brothers might be physically bigger and stronger than me, I can out-stubborn a mule and have had a lifetime learning how to best cut them to size with my words. I don’t lose my temper often, but when I do, it’s an event that nobody wants directed at them.
“Dane Phillippe Calhoun, are you done?” My voice is soft but lethal, and my brother flinches at the unspoken threat wending its way through my words.
“Contrary to what the both of you and Paw Paw seem to believe, I am not an idiot. I would be quite happy to have you accompany me whenever I have to attend to the lion, but you never gave me the chance to ask.”
Dane and Dillon shrink back into themselves as steel threads through my voice, and my barbs regarding their attitudes strike home.
“No. Instead, you just stomped all over my autonomy and authority here, making demands and decrees with such a heavy hand, they could probably feel it in China. So, if I want to give you the silent treatment, you’ll accept it without complaint. If I decide to treat you like the thick-headed bullies you’re being right now, you will take it as a consequence of your actions.” I step forward, slapping the piece of wood on my hand, shaking with fury, and my slumbering cat rouses enough to crackle the air with electricity.
“And if I decide that you are both lower than the shit coating my boots because you’ve decided that all I am is a walking incubator without a single brain cell, and that I would deliberately put myself and my baby into danger, then you can fuck right off and go crying to Paw Paw and Da. See how far that will get you, because I would never put my baby in harm’s way, and Mama will tan your hides for treating me as such! I should beat you smart with this here clue-by-four.”
I have to swallow back the angry tears flooding my eyes and throat. No way I’ll let my brothers see just how deeply they’ve hurt me. They know they’ve messed up, because I don’t cuss like that, and the echoing thwack as Dillon smacks Dane up the back of the head only proves it.
“Iz… Isobel. Sis, we’re sorry for making you feel that way, and for making you believe that we think you’d ever do something so risky. It’s just, we’ve already seen you hurt and couldn’t do anything to prevent it. I know we’re going overboard on the protectiveness, but I’d rather you raging and angry at us for overstepping and coddling you, than to see you break down and shatter like you did when… when he disappeared.”
Dillon steps forward, his hand outstretched in supplication, and my temper washes away like a sudden downpour. Fatigue drags at me, and my shoulders slump as he bundles me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest, the soft rumble of his cougar’s purr lulling me into a pall of safety. Warmth at my back is my only warning of Dane’s approach, and he bends over my shoulder to nuzzle at my cheek. Gods-damn him, he knows I can’t stay angry at me when he does that.
“I’m sorry, Iz. I was a dick. You’re our little sister, and you’re also about to become a momma, so you’ve got our protective instincts all riled up. But that’s on us, and we… I mean, I should’ve known better than to treat you like that. Forgive me? Please?”
I huff out a breath, and with it the rest of my indignation and frustration.
“Fine. Just know that you’ll be making it up to me for a while yet. You can start by pulling a couple of haunches from the freezer to thaw in the fridge and getting the thawed deer leg ready for me. Dillon, you come with me while I check on the lion. I want to try giving him a lower dosage of sedative and see if he cooperates while I check him over. You can be my meat-shield.”
***
The hinges of the reinforced metal door creak as Dillon pulls it open to unveil the room inside. The exterior hatch is already open, something we decided to do to help alleviate any claustrophobia the lion might experience. A single, sweeping glance reveals him lounging on the raised wooden platform in the corner of the room. He’s awake and alert, silently observing us from his position, but he also shows no indication that he’s about to move.
Dillon shuffles inside and I follow, leaving Dane to close the door and stand watch through the observation slot. At the first sign of trouble, he’ll have the door open and us out of the room. He also has the shotgun.
The lion continues to watch us as we carefully pace around the edge of the room to get to his water trough. I reach for one of the levers underneath to drain the older water out, the rush and gurgle of the liquid the only sound above our breathing. Once the trough is empty, Dillon reaches over to turn on the tap. He swishes the water around briefly, rinsing the metal clean, and then flicks a finger at me. I close the drain and the gush of water soon fills the trough with clean, fresh water.
The entire time we’re working together, the lion doesn’t move. His head is resting on top of his massive paws, and his lids lower and lift in a slow, lazy blink.
Well.
Okay then.
Anyone who has spent time with any type of cat knows that when they blink like that, they’re showing you a level of trust and relaxation. The enormous yawn and movement to expose his belly to us is another indicator that this monster isn’t quite as he seems.
I look up at Dillon and see the same raised-eyebrow expression on his face.
“Hey there, big guy. Are you a friendly kitty, or are you trying to lure us in so you can crunch on our bones?” Dillon softly drawls, and there’s no missing the look of derision in the lion’s eyes. He snorts out a hot breath and then gingerly stretches out on the platform, entirely at ease and exposing his soft, still-healing underbelly to us.
Dillon and I slowly walk toward the lion, but all he does is shuffle a little on the platform so he’s resting more on his back than on his side. As I reach him, standing close to his massive head, he stretches his muzzle toward my belly, chuffing with what sounds like contentment before closing his eyes.
I stare down at him in amazement before lifting my stunned gaze to my brother. Dillon is just as gobsmacked as me, at the ease and trust this lion is granting us.
Yeah, there’s no way that this is a wild beast that escaped from a zoo. My guess? He’s from some private collection, hand-reared from a cub, and is so used to being around people that he wouldn’t be able to fend for himself in the wild, no matter how big he is.
Looks like we’ve just welcomed our newest permanent resident.
Paw Paw is gonna spit.