by Pamela Clare
No bone fragments. No drag marks. No depressions in the grass where a wolf might have sat down to feed.
A quick walk along the edge of the forest had yielded three more .30-06 shell casings. He’d be willing to bet that ballistics tests would reveal they’d been fired from the same firearm as the first.
Before they made it back to the house for lunch, the sheriff arrived.
“I appreciate you coming out here yourself, Sheriff Pella.” Jack shook his hand. “This is Jason Chiago. He’s an ICE agent with the Shadow Wolves. He’s been helping us piece together what’s happening here.”
Pella, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, shook Jason’s hand. “That’s an impressive resume. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
They drove back to the other pasture where the evidence was preserved, and Jason walked Sheriff Pella through the scene, ending with the tread marks from the four-wheeler. Winona answered Pella’s questions about wolves and what they ought to expect at the site of a wolf kill.
Sheriff Pella looked up from his notepad. “It sure looks to me like you’ve got a human problem, Jack. Those can be the toughest to resolve.”
“Don’t I know it.” Jack looked up at the mountainside behind them. “We’ve had poachers on our land before—hunters who camp illegally and take deer, elk, and moose. But we’ve never had a poacher go for our beef herd. We’re organizing the men, putting armed riders in the pastures this afternoon. Nate also plans to take some of the men and ride patrols in this area to make our presence felt.”
“That all sounds good. I can increase patrols on the highway near the ranch.” When this failed to impress Jack, Pella went on. “My two best deputies are in Denver giving depositions, but I could send one of them out here tomorrow morning and try to pick up that trail left by the four-wheeler—if Agent Chiago has the time.”
“I’ll do it—provided Winona comes along. There’s only one of us here who knows how to handle a wolf.”
You just want to spend time with her.
He brushed that thought away.
Winona looked up at him through those big, brown eyes. “If I can get coverage for the clinic again, I’m happy to help.”
They worked through the details with Sheriff Pella. They would meet the deputy at the ranch house tomorrow at nine and see where the trail led. If Jason and Winona wanted to carry a firearm, they were welcome to do so.
“I don’t think there’s much chance of finding this bastard, but it might help to figure out where he’s getting onto your land.” Sheriff Pella held his hand out to Jason. “Agent Chiago, I’m impressed. I’ve never seen a Shadow Wolf in action. If you ever get sick of working for the feds, you’ve got a spot on my team.”
Jason didn’t tell the sheriff that it would be a cold day in hell before he left Sells. “Thank you, sir.”
As the sheriff drove away, Jason, Winona, and Jack piled back into Jack’s truck and started the drive back to the ranch house.
“I’m grateful to both of you for your help today. Tomorrow is bound to take most of the day. My family and I would love to have you both as guests of the ranch. We can grill some steaks, put you up in our cabin, where you can soak in our hot tub. I’ll make you a good breakfast the next morning, and then we can saddle up some horses and go riding. I make wicked buttermilk pancakes.”
Jason was about to turn Jack down, but Winona’s face lit up like it was Christmas.
“I would love that. Thank you, Jack. I’ve heard about your barbeques.”
“Well, of course, you have.” Jack chuckled.
It was on the tip of Jason’s tongue to decline. The Wests were good people, but they were strangers. Jason could drive up separately, let Winona come in her vehicle, and then leave at the end of the day.
But he’d be damned if the Cimarron wasn’t one of the most beautiful places he’d ever seen. And it had been ages since he’d sat in a saddle.
Against his better judgment, Jason accepted. “McBride told me not to turn down one of your grilled steaks if you offered, so I won’t.”
“Well, then, it’s settled.” Jack grinned. “We’ll get the cabin ready.”
Almost immediately, Jason regretted his decision.
You’re not here for horseback riding or scenery. You’re here for Winona.
Something about her tugged at him, made him want to be near her. Yes, she was attractive, but it was more than that. There was something about her—her way with animals, her unguarded smile, her sincerity, her openness, her willingness to help others. She was everything Elena was not.
You don’t really know her.
No, he didn’t. He’d been with Elena for four years. He’d thought he knew everything about her, but he’d been wrong.
He was probably wrong about Winona, too.
Back at the house, Jack thanked them and handed Winona a paper bag with a large container of leftover chili and cornbread wrapped in aluminum foil.
“Thanks for your help today,” Jack said. “We look forward to treating you to some Cimarron hospitality tomorrow.”
Winona waited until they were back in Jason’s truck and on the highway to say it. “I told you the Wests were good people.”
“Jack certainly makes a mean chili.” Jason glanced over at her, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. “Can I ask what happened to Nate?”
“He was burned in an IED explosion while serving with the Marines in Afghanistan. No one expected him to survive.” That’s all Winona knew. She hadn’t lived here then. “I can’t imagine how painful that must have been.”
Jason winced. “He must be one tough guy.”
Winona’s mind went to Eric Hawke and what he’d endured since being burned in the fire just two months ago. “Scarlet Springs has more than its share of heroes.”
They drove for a time in silence, Winona mulling over their day, her head filling with questions. She spoke aloud without realizing it. “How much does a steer weigh—a thousand pounds?”
“Something like that.”
She did some quick math. “Three steers in six weeks with maybe five hundred pounds of edible meat per animal would be fifteen hundred pounds of beef. That’s a lot of burgers.”
“Maybe this guy is filling up a freezer or selling it on the side.”
She supposed that made sense. “Why poach steers? Why not go after wild game?”
“I can think of a couple of reasons. Wild game is unreliable. You can hunt all day and go home with nothing.”
She could understand that. “The steers are captive, fenced in.”
Jason nodded. “Not only that, but they don’t run. They’re domesticated. Shooting a steer in a pasture takes no skill at all. It would be easier than shooting a sitting duck.”
“Do you hunt?”
“My grandfather used to take me hunting for feral hogs and javelinas. That’s how I learned to shoot.”
“And track.”
He nodded. “If you want a successful hunt, you have to know what the animal wants, where it’s going, what it needs. You have to anticipate its movements, know the landscape, and learn to be patient. That’s as true for people as it is javelinas.”
It struck Winona that Jason had probably spent most of his life on the hunt. “I’m sure people are the more dangerous prey.”
“For sure.” He shrugged his right shoulder. “I caught a round in the shoulder a couple of summers ago. I have friends, fellow Wolves, who’ve been shot—and killed.”
“I’m sorry.” Winona hurt for him.
“It goes with the job—but thanks.”
“I can’t imagine doing what you do and dealing with that kind of danger every day. A criminal held me at gunpoint once, and I still haven’t gotten over it.”
John Charles Ready had done more than that. No, he hadn’t raped her, but he’d talked about it, saying filthy, racist things to her. Then he’d tried to kill her. If not for Lexi, he would have succeeded.
Jason reached over, took her hand, his touch comforti
ng. “I’m sorry, Win. I hope they caught him.”
“He’s dead.” She shivered. “That’s when we met Zach. Chaska helped track him. I’m not sure why I told you that. I don’t usually talk about it.”
“We were talking about bad guys doing bad things.” He released her hand. “I can see why it came up.”
She tried to let it go, to shift the conversation back to safer paths.
“We’ll need to leave an hour earlier tomorrow. You can stay at my place if you want.” The moment her words were out, she worried he might get the wrong impression. “I’ve got a spare room. You can get an extra hour of sleep. But if you think that would make your fiancée uncomfortable, I understand.”
“My fiancée?” A dark eyebrow arched. “Who told you I had a fiancée—or is that your way of asking whether I’m attached?”
Heat rushed to Winona’s face. “Kat said you’re engaged. I—”
“Oh. Kat doesn’t know. That relationship ended a while back.”
This revelation took a moment to sink in.
He’s single.
Her cheeks burned hotter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t apologize.” He seemed to find her blunder amusing, the hint of a smile on his lips. “You could only believe what Kat told you.”
There was a moment of awkward silence—or at least it felt awkward to Winona. It had been one thing to feel attracted to him when she’d believed he was already in a relationship. It was something altogether different to know that he was available.
Just because he’s available doesn’t mean he’s available to you.
“Thanks for the invitation, but don’t you want to hang with your family?”
“I’ll probably visit Naomi and the baby, say hello to her parents, check on Grandpa, and then reheat Jack’s chili. You can come with me or just hang out at my place and watch TV. I have cable.”
“It’s a good thing I brought my gear. I’ll call McBride and let him know.”
Jason followed Winona into her house, the sweet scent of her skin teasing him, her windblown hair making his fingers itch to touch it.
Why had he done this to himself? Staying overnight with her was putting himself in the danger zone. It had been six months since he’d been with a woman, and Winona was everything he’d love to get his hands on. She was intelligent, beautiful, compassionate—and attracted to him.
Nah, man, forget it.
He’d learned long ago that casual sex wasn’t worth it. It took the edge off his sexual need, but instead of contentment afterward, there was only emptiness. Besides, there was too much of a chance of someone mistaking physical pleasure for love and getting hurt.
Winona deserved better than that. All women did.
She set her backpack down inside the door and put the chili Jack had given them in her refrigerator. “Just make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.”
She led him to the spare bedroom, showed him where to find towels and washcloths, then gave him a quick tour of the kitchen. “Glasses are here. The coffee is in here. There’s wood outside the back door if you want to start a fire. The remote is on the coffee table, and my wireless password is taped to the fridge. I’ll be gone for about an hour, maybe an hour and a half.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“You’ve got my cell number, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Call if you need anything. See you in a bit.” She hurried out the door, locking the deadbolt behind her.
Jason took out his laptop and caught up on his email. An update about Ren’s condition. A reminder that the premium on his auto policy was coming due. And something from his supervisor—a notice of his disciplinary hearing date.
Shit.
He closed his computer, gave McBride a call, and explained the situation.
“West never asked us to spend the night.” McBride sounded hurt.
“You jealous?”
“Hell, yes.” McBride chuckled. “So, you and Winona?”
“It’s not like that.”
“That’s what you keep saying.”
“Hey, she offered me her spare room to save me time in the morning.”
“Right.”
Jason changed the subject. “She told me that you helped catch a guy who held a gun to her head.”
“Yeah. That was five years ago, I think.”
Jason didn’t think it was his place to ask what had happened, but McBride shared the story anyway.
“The asshole robbed a bank and got badly burned when the dye pack in the money bag exploded. He went to her clinic and forced her to give him medical care at gunpoint, then injected her with a lethal overdose of ketamine.”
“Jesus.”
“From the reports I read, he got ugly with her before he injected her, made all kinds of violent sexual and racist threats. I think the worst part of it for her was knowing that the dose he was giving her would kill her. If her friend Lexi hadn’t wandered in and gotten a call off to the police, Winona would have died on the clinic floor.”
Good God.
Jason could only imagine how terrifying that must have been. “Tell me you’re the one who killed this son of a bitch.”
“Nah, man. I didn’t have to. The bastard abducted Lexi and dragged her with him into an abandoned mine shaft. Chaska helped us track them. We’d just found them when the shaft collapsed. He died, but Lexi survived with the help of a tommyknocker—or so she claims. The Team got her out.”
“There are some sick fuckers out there.” Jason had spent his life tracking them.
“True that.”
Jason finished the conversation, got to his feet, and went out back for firewood, the details McBride had shared running through this mind. It sickened him to think of some asshole taking advantage of Winona’s skills and repaying her by trying to take her life. She’d drifted into unconsciousness, believing she was dying.
Fucking bastard.
Jason knew so many Native women whose lives had been destroyed by violence—child abuse, partner violence, sexual assault, murder. He’d rescued dozens of Indigenous women and children from trafficking operations. He’d witnessed their helplessness, their terror, their desperation. All he’d been able to do was bust the bad guys, one by one.
It didn’t feel like enough. It was never enough.
Jason wasn’t especially religious. He didn’t attend Mass regularly. But he had no trouble believing that evil was real and alive in the world.
When the fire was going, he turned on the TV, but he was too restless to sit. He carried in more wood, then found a pot and set Jack’s chili on the stove to reheat. While that simmered, he sorted through his gear and checked his Glock, making sure he was ready for tomorrow’s hunt.
He’d just put the pistol back in its case when he heard Winona’s key slip into the lock. Certain the sight of his pistol would unnerve her, he tucked it into his pack.
She stepped inside, a bright smile on her face. “Hey.”
He got to his feet. “Hey.”
“Oh! You started dinner.”
“I can’t claim any glory. I just dumped the leftover chili into a pot.” Still, he liked the way her eyes lit up.
“Look what I got you.” She held up a six-pack of amber bottles. “I saw that you liked the beer at Knockers, so I brought you this—Golden Aspen IPA.”
“Thanks.” Jason thought he just might be in love.
Chapter 8
While Jason washed up, Winona got dinner on the table—an easy task when it was already made. She set butter next to the warmed cornbread, got a glass out for Jason’s beer, poured seltzer water over ice for herself, and set out an old plastic coffee can lid for the spirit plate.
She’d never actually had a man over for dinner—if you didn’t count her brother or her grandfather. The last time she’d set two places at her table, Naomi had been out of town, and the second plate had been for Chaska. She couldn’t help feeling a little nervous, especially
now that she knew Jason was single.
“That smells good.” Jason twisted the cap off a bottle of beer and poured it into his glass. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.” Winona sat. “I don’t drink.”
“Got it.” He took his seat across from her. “How are Naomi and little Shota?”
While they ate, Winona shared the news. Naomi’s preeclampsia had improved, but she was still in pain from the C-section. Her doctor thought she’d be able to come home by the end of the week. Shota was thriving and had the nurses wrapped around his tiny pinky finger. Chaska had slept at home last night and had finally gotten a shower. Doug and Star were watching over Grandpa. Chaska had been approved for eight weeks of paternity leave.
“The last time I saw my brother so happy was on their wedding day.” Winona realized Jason didn’t know any of these people. “I’m boring you to death.”
The warmth in his gaze made her pulse skip. “I asked, remember?”
She broke eye contact, shifted the conversation to him. “Do you have any nieces or nephews?”
“I’ve got three older sisters, and between them, they’ve got seven kids—three boys and four girls. They moved away, one by one.” There was a disapproving edge to his voice. “I do my best to stay in touch. I don’t want the kids to grow up not knowing what it means to be Tohono O’odham.”
“Your sisters will teach them.”
Jason didn’t look sure of that. “They all married non-Natives. They don’t speak the O’odham tongue to their kids, and they’ve never brought them home to Sells. How can you teach someone what it means to be O’odham—one of the Desert People—if they’ve never seen the desert and don’t speak the language?”
Winona could see how much this bothered him. “Do you think they left because of what happened to your parents? After my mother died, I couldn’t walk out the front door, not even with Chaska holding my hand. I had to go out the back way. I was so glad when our grandparents took us away from that house.”
