“It’s me, Dad,” Caleb’s voice whispers back, shaky. He’s halfway through the door when I see him fully, his frame toosmall yet too familiar in the moonlight. He’s clutching his boots in one hand, like he’s trying not to make noise.
“What the hell are you doing?” I whisper-yell, my anger fueled more by fear than anything else.
“I heard something out by the barn,” he says quickly. “I just…I thought maybe I should check it out.”
“In the middle of the damn night?” I glare at him, but there’s no time for a lecture now.
As if on cue, the sounds that woke him—and now me—filter in. The distant, panicked barking of the dogs. High-pitched yelps cut through the night, followed by something else. Low. Guttural. A growl that raises the hairs on the back of my neck. My jaw tightens.
“Get back in the house. Now,” I order, my voice leaving no room for argument.
“But, Dad—”
“I said now, Caleb.” I lock eyes with him, and he must see enough in my face to think better of arguing. He nods reluctantly, slipping past me and into the house. I shut the door behind him, bolting it for good measure. He’s brave—too brave for his own good sometimes. But he’s still just a boy.
The barking escalates, a frenzy of snarls and whimpers that cuts through the night. My chest tightens, the adrenaline surging as I step onto the porch. The moon hangs high, casting enough light for me to see the barn in the distance. Shadows move in the faint glow of the yard light, indistinct but wrong. My boots hit the dirt, steady and deliberate, as I cross the space between the house and the barn. Every step feels like a countdown.
I reach the barn and press my back to the side of the structure, taking a moment to listen. The growling is louder here, a predator’s challenge. One of the dogs—Lucky, I think—yowls in pain, and my grip on the rifle tightens.
I swing around the corner, raising the rifle to my shoulder as my eyes adjust to the low light. The scene in front of me is chaos. The dogs are circling something, their barks sharp and frantic. In the middle of the fray, a large shape moves. Feline. Too big to be a stray cat—and too bold.
A cougar.
It’s lean, all muscle and menace, with eyes that glow like molten gold in the dark. Its attention snaps to me the moment I appear, a low growl rumbling from its chest. The dogs hesitate, caught between their instinct to protect and their very real fear of the predator in front of them.
I steady the rifle, my finger brushing the trigger. “Back off,” I mutter, more to the dogs than the cougar. They’ve done their job, brave as they are, but this is my fight now.
The cougar lunges, not at me but at one of the dogs. Lucky barely dodges, yelping as he scrambles back. The sight ignites something primal in me—an anger, a resolve. I aim, exhale, and fire.
It’s a warning shot more than anything, and I aim high above. The cougar snarls. It paces, circling, its eyes locked on me now. My hands are steady as I chamber another round.
“Come on, you bastard,” I mutter under my breath.
I fire another shot off and this time he leaves, darting off into the thick woods. I lower the rifle, my arms trembling now that the danger has passed.
The adrenaline fades, leaving exhaustion in its wake. I straighten, taking in the scene. Hopefully, that will keep him away. Benny rushes out behind me in just his boxers and cowboy boots.
“What the hell, boss?” he asks breathlessly.
“Thanks for throwing on some clothes,” I chuckle sarcastically.
“What were you shooting at?”
“Cougar.”
“What the fuck?” he breathes. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I got a good look at him. I’m certain if we get a hold of some of the trail cams around, we’ll see him better. He’s probably looking for food.”
“Being so close to the delta, sometimes they might find their way here if they’re desperate. I have heard rumblings about drug dealers using them and wolves, panthers, or tigers to keep the federal agents away from their property,” he explains.
“I’ve heard the same. I’ve also heard rumblings about one with a house out yonder,” I say, pointing toward the bluff. “The old Harvey plantation, right on the delta. Harvey’s transported slaves to freedom with the waterways on their property.”
“I heard they hid some mobsters out there, too. Law enforcement doesn’t want anything to do with that swamp land out there, or the gators and wild pigs.”
I suddenly realize that we’re hashing out conspiracy theories of sorts while he’s in his underwear.
“Benny, go back inside before Sutton or Mama sees you in your underwear,” I laugh as I shake my head.
