Black Hills

by Nora Roberts

  would be dead otherwise. Euthanized or disposed of by owners, killed in the wild they were too old or handicapped to survive. They had a life here, protection, and as much freedom as could be allowed. They served to educate, to fascinate, to draw funds to help maintain the whole.

  It mattered. Intellectually she knew it mattered. But her heart was so sore it wasn’t the intellect that needed reinforcement.

  Baby waited for her, the engine purr in his throat. She crouched, leaning her head against the cage so he could bump his to it in greeting.

  She looked beyond him to where the two other cougars they’d taken in tore into their evening meal. Only Baby would leave his favorite chicken dinner for her.

  And in his brilliant eyes, she took comfort.

  IT TOOK FARLEY a while to find her, but his heart gave a few extra beats when he did. Tansy sat on one of the benches—and for once she was alone, watching the big old tiger (imagine a tiger living right in the valley!) wash his face.

  Just like a house cat would, Farley thought, licking at his paws, rubbing them on his face.

  He wanted to think of something clever to say, something smart and funny. He didn’t think he was clever when it came to words mostwise anyhow. And he got his tongue tangled and stuck when he was within speaking distance of Tansy Spurge.

  She was about the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, and he wanted her for his own so bad it hurt in the belly.

  He knew all that dark, curly hair of hers was soft, and kinda springy to the touch. He’d managed to get his hands on it once. He knew the skin of her hands was smooth and soft, but he wondered if her face would be the same. That pretty, golden brown face. He hadn’t had the nerve to try to touch that yet.

  But he was working up to it.

  She was smarter than he was, no question. He’d finished high school because Joe and Jenna laid that down as law. But Tansy had all kinds of education on him and those fancy college degrees. He liked that about her, too, how the smart of her showed in her eyes. The goodness in them right there with it.

  He’d seen how she was with animals. Gentle. Farley didn’t hold with causing an animal harm.

  And with all that, she was so damn sexy his blood started humming in his head—and other places—whenever he got within ten feet of her.

  Like right now.

  He squared his shoulders, wished he wasn’t so damned skinny.

  “He sure keeps himself clean and tidy, doesn’t he?” While he was building up the gumption to sit beside her, Farley stopped by the cage to watch the old boy wash.

  He’d touched Boris once, too, when Tansy’d had him under to help Matt clean what was left of his teeth. It sure was a big experience, letting your hands walk right over a jungle cat.

  “He’s feeling good today. Had a good appetite. I worried if he’d last the winter, sweet old thing, when he had that kidney infection. But he just keeps going.”

  The words were easy, casual-like, but he knew—had made a study on—her tones. He heard the tears before he saw them.

  “Ah, now.”

  “Sorry.” She waved a hand. “We’re all having a rough day. I was mad, just mad, for most of it. Then I sat down here, and . . .” She shrugged, waved again.

  He didn’t need gumption to sit beside her. He’d only needed the tears. “I had a dog run over about five years ago. Hadn’t had him long either. Just a few months. I cried like a baby right on the side of the road.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders and just sat with her, watching the tiger.

  “I didn’t want to see Lil again until I settled down. She doesn’t need me crying on her shoulder.”

  “Mine’s right here.”

  Though he’d offered, sincerely, in the spirit of friendship, his heart took that extra beat again when she tipped her head to his shoulder.

  “I saw Lil.” He spoke quickly now before his mind went blank with the thrill. “She said to tell you she’s closing a little early, sending everybody on.”

  “She shouldn’t be alone.”

  “I’m staying tonight. I’ll bunk in the second cabin.”

  “Good. That’s good. I’ll feel better knowing that. It’s nice of you, Farley, to—”

  She tipped her face up and his tipped over. And in that moment, lost in her eyes, the comfort became an embrace. “Holy God, Tansy,” he managed, and pressed his mouth to hers.

  Soft. Sweet. He thought she tasted like warm cherries, and now that he was close enough he could smell her skin, and that had warm in it, too.

  He thought a man would never be cold, not a day in his life, if he could kiss her.

  She leaned into him, he felt her come in. It made him feel strong and sure.

  Then she pulled away, fast. “Farley, this isn’t—We can’t do this.”

  “Didn’t mean to. Not just that way.” He couldn’t help himself and stroked a hand over her hair. “I didn’t mean to take advantage of the situation.”

  “It’s all right. It’s fine.”

  Her voice was jumpy, and her eyes were wide. It made him smile. “It was fine. I’ve been thinking about kissing you for so long I can’t remember how long it is. Now I guess I’ll be thinking about kissing you again.”

  “Well, don’t.” Her voice jumped again, as if he’d poked her with a stick. “You can’t. We can’t.”

  She got to her feet. So did he, but more slowly. “I think you like me.”

  She flushed—God that was pretty—and started twisting the buttons on her coat. “Of course I like you.”

  “What I mean to say is, I think you think about kissing me sometimes, too. I’ve got a powerful yen for you, Tansy. Maybe you don’t have the same, but I think you’ve got a little one any way.”

  She pulled her coat together, still twisting at buttons. “I’m not . . . that isn’t . . .”

  “It’s about the first time I’ve seen you all flustered up. Maybe I should kiss you again.”

  The button-twisting hand slapped right out onto his chest. “We’re not going to do this. You have to accept that. You should be looking at—having a yen for—girls your own age.”

  His smile widened. “You didn’t say you didn’t have one for me. What we need to do is for me to take you out to dinner. Dancing maybe. Do this proper.”

  “We’re not doing anything.”

  She got a line between her eyebrows—he’d liked to have kissed it—and her voice firmed up. He just kept smiling.

  “I mean it.” Exasperated now, she pointed the index fingers of both hands at him. “I’m going to check in with Lil, then I’m going home. And—Oh, wipe that stupid smile off your face.”

  She spun around, stalked away.

  Her temper turned his smile into a mile-wide grin.

  He’d kissed Tansy Spurge, he thought. And before she’d gotten her dander up, she’d kissed him right back.

  LIL TOOK THREE extra-strength Tylenol for the stress headache and topped it off with a long, blistering shower. Dressed in flannels, thick socks, and a comfortably tattered University of North Dakota sweatshirt, she added logs to the flames in her compact fireplace.

  Heat, she thought. She couldn’t seem to get enough of it. She kept the lights blazing, too. She wasn’t ready for the dark yet. She gave some thought to food, but couldn’t work up the energy or the appetite.

  She’d called her parents, so that was crossed off the list. She’d reassured them, promised to lock her doors, and reminded them she had a refuge loaded with early warning signals.

  She’d work. She had articles to write, grant proposals to complete. No, she’d do laundry. No point in letting it pile up.

  Maybe she should upload her photos. Or check the webcams.

  Or, or, or.

  She paced like a cat in a cage.

  The sound of the truck had her pivoting toward the door. The staff had been gone nearly two hours now, and Mary would have locked the gate across the access road behind her. They all had keys, but . . . given the circumstances, wouldn�
��t whoever might have forgotten something, wanted something, needed something have called first to alert her?

  Baby gave a warning cry, and in the big-cat area, the old lioness roared. Lil grabbed her rifle. Farley beat her outside by a step.

  In contrast to her thudding heart, his voice was calm as a spring breeze. “Why don’t you go on back inside, Lil, while I see who . . . Okay.” He shifted the shotgun he’d carried out, angled the barrel down. “That’s Coop’s rig.”

  Farley lifted a hand in greeting as the truck eased to a stop, and Coop climbed out.

  “This is a hell of a welcoming committee.” Coop glanced at the guns, then over to where the animals let the newcomer know they were on alert.

  “They set up a ruckus,” Farley commented. “Sure is something hearing those big jungle cats carry on, isn’t it? Well.” He gave Coop a nod. “I’ll be seeing you.”

  “How did you get in the gate?” Lil demanded when Farley had slipped back inside.

  “Your father gave me his key. Lot of keys floating around, from what I understand. A lock’s not much good if everybody’s got a key.”

  “Staff members have keys.” She knew her voice lashed out in defense because she’d been frightened. Really frightened for a moment. “Otherwise somebody’d have to open it every damn morning before anybody else could get in. You should’ve called. If you came by to check on me, I could’ve told you and saved you the trip.”

  “It’s not that long a trip.” He stepped up on the porch, handed her a covered dish. “My grandmother sent it. Chicken and dumplings.” He picked up the rifle she’d leaned against the rail and walked into the cabin without invitation.

  Setting her teeth, Lil went in behind him. “It was nice of her to trouble, and I appreciate you bringing it by, but—”

  “Jesus, Lil, it’s like a furnace in here.”

  “I was cold.” It was warmer than it needed to be now, but it was her damn house. “Hey look, there’s no need for you to stay,” she began as he stripped off his coat. “I’m covered here, as you can plainly see. It’s been a long day for both of us.”

  “Yeah. And I’m hungry.” He took the dish back from her, then strolled toward the back of the cabin to her kitchen.

  She hissed under her breath, but hospitality had been ingrained since childhood. Visitors, even unwelcome ones, were to be given food and drink.

  He’d already turned on her oven, and he stuck the dish inside as she came in. As if, she thought, she were the guest.

  “It’s still warm. Won’t take long to heat it through. Got a beer?”

  And visitors, she thought resentfully, should wait to be offered food and drink. She yanked open the refrigerator, pulled out two bottles of Coors.

  Coop twisted off the cap, handed it to her. “Nice place.” He leaned back, enjoying the first cold sip as he took a quick survey. Though the kitchen was compact, there were plenty of glass-fronted cabinets and open shelves, a good section of slate-colored counter. A little table tucked in the corner in front of a built-in bench provided eating space.

  “You do any cooking?”

  “When I want to eat.”

  He nodded. “That’s about how it is for me. The kitchen in the bunkhouse’ll be about this size when it’s done.”

  “What are you doing here, Cooper?”

  “Having a beer. In about twenty minutes, I’ll be having a bowl of chicken and dumplings.”

  “Don’t be thick.”

  Watching her, he lifted his beer. “There’s two things. Maybe it’s three. After what happened today I wanted to see how you were, and how you were set up here. Next, Joe asked me to look out for you, and I told him I would.”

  “For God’s sake.”

  “I told him I would,” Coop repeated, “so we’ll both have to deal with that. Last—maybe last—you might think because of the way things turned out with us, you don’t matter. You’d be wrong.”

  “The way things turned out isn’t the point. It’s the way things are.” That, she thought, was essential to remember. “If thinking you’re looking out for me eases my parents’ minds, that’s fine, that’s good. But I don’t need you looking out for me. That rifle out there’s loaded, and I know how to use it.”

  “Ever aimed a gun at a man?”

  “Not so far. Have you?”

  “It’s a different matter when you have,” he said by way of answer. “It’s a different matter than that when you know you can pull the trigger. You’re in trouble, Lil.”

  “What happened today doesn’t mean—”

  “He’d been back to the campsite while we were up with the cougar. He used a knife on the tents, tossed some of the gear in the stream.”

  She took a breath, long and slow, so fear didn’t get through again. “Nobody told me.”

  “I said I would. He dug out the shirt you’d had on the day before and smeared blood on it. That’s personal.”

  Her legs jellied on her, so she stepped back, lowered to the bench. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It doesn’t have to. We’re going to sit here, eat some of Lucy’s famous chicken and dumplings. I’m going to ask you questions and you’re going to answer them.”

  “Why isn’t Willy asking me questions?”

  “He will. But I’ll be asking them tonight. Where’s the French guy?”

  “Who?” Struggling to take it in, she scooped the fingers of both hands through her hair. “Jean-Paul? He’s . . . in India. I think. Why?”

  “Any trouble between the two of you?”

  She stared at him. It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t asking out of personal interest, but as a kind of de facto cop. “If you’re fishing around, thinking Jean-Paul had anything to do with this, you need to cut bait. He’d never kill a caged animal, and he’d never do anything to hurt me. He’s a good man, and he loves me. Or did.”

  “Did?”

  “We’re not together anymore.” Reminding herself it wasn’t personal, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. “We haven’t been since right before I left for South America. It wasn’t acrimonious, and he’s in India, on assignment.”

  “All right.” It was easy enough to verify. “Is there anyone else? Someone you’re involved with, or who wants to be involved?”

  “I’m not sleeping with anyone,” she said flatly, “and no one’s made any moves on me. I don’t see why this is about me, personally.”

  “Your camera, your cougar, your shirt.”

  “The camera is refuge property, the cougar wasn’t mine. She wasn’t anyone’s but herself. And the shirt could’ve been yours just as easily.”

  “But it wasn’t. Have you pissed off anyone lately?”

  She angled her head, raised her eyebrows. “Only you.”

  “I’ve got a solid alibi.” He turned, got bowls down.

  It annoyed her, the way he took over, the way he made himself at home. So she sat where she was and let him hunt for hot pads, for spoons. He didn’t seem annoyed, she realized. He just found what he needed then went about the business of getting the meal in bowls.

  “You had to go through some red tape to put this place together,” he continued. “Licenses, zoning.”

  “Paperwork, politicking, paying fees. I had the land, thanks to my father, and was able to buy a little more after we were set up.”

  “Not everybody wanted you to succeed. Who bucked you?”

  “There was some resistance on every level, local, county, state. But I’d done all the research. I’d been laying the groundwork for years. I spoke at town meetings, went to Rapid City, and into Pierre. I spoke to National Park reps and rangers. I know