by Pamela Clare
“When it’s pushed up on this side of an obstacle, it means the four-wheeler was heading that way—toward the ranch. He used this route both to get on and off your property.”
“Damn, you’re good.” Deputy Marcs was clearly impressed. “That’s Newton’s third law of physics right there.”
Winona understood now. “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. A vehicle heading that way would push the mud this way.”
Jason grinned. “Exactly.”
Oh, that smile.
She felt it from her ovaries to the tips of her toes.
She’d noticed a change in him since last night. Something about him seemed gentler. He was still every bit the intense, serious Shadow Wolf she’d met a few days ago, but his attitude toward her seemed … softer, warmer.
You’re imagining things.
She hadn’t imagined the way he’d made her feel last night—protected, safe, sheltered. She hadn’t imagined the hard feel of his body either, or that scent that was uniquely his, a mix of musk, sage, and spice. She’d soaked it all up, and it had left her longing for more.
He stopped, knelt. “Scat.”
Winona went to examine it. “Coyote. It’s shiny and too small to be wolf scat.”
Deputy Marcs knelt beside her. “Do they teach you how to identify animal poop in vet school?”
Winona laughed. “There weren’t any courses on that particular subject when I was in school, but when you take care of animals, you learn pretty quickly.”
They moved onward, the tracks leading them steadily uphill, through a glade of willows and aspens that had been badly gnawed.
She stopped, ran her fingers over the scarred bark of a stunted aspen. “It looks like you have a lot of elk up here.”
“We do.” Jack drew his water bottle out of his pack, screwed off the top. “They move back and forth between our property and National Forest land. They’ve taken out some of our aspen stands entirely.”
“When they reintroduced wolves in Yellowstone, they witnessed a trophic cascade.” When this drew blank looks, she explained. “The wolves created an ecological shift. They fed on the ungulates—elk and deer—and reduced their populations. The remains left by the wolves fed other species and put nitrogen into the forest soil. The lower population of elk meant that aspen and willow glades could thrive, and that helped the beaver bounce back because they eat willows. The increased number of beaver dams helped aquatic species to thrive. The ecosystem began to heal itself.”
Nate adjusted one of the straps on his backpack. “Mother Nature knows what she’s doing. I would welcome wolves on our land—provided we got compensation for our livestock losses.”
They stopped at noon to hydrate and eat the bagged lunches Jack had made for them—roast beef sandwiches, celery and carrot sticks, apples, and homemade brownies.
Jack drew out his sandwich. “Mountain air makes a person hungry.”
While they ate, Deputy Marcs peppered Jason with questions. How old had he been when he’d first learned to cut sign? What had made him want to work with the Shadow Wolves? Would he be willing to come back and do a training for the Forest County Sheriff’s Department?
As Winona ate, she couldn’t help but feel the peace that came with being in the wild. The landscape here was so vast that it seemed to swallow up everything but the present moment. Up here, there was only now.
She breathed it in, closed her eyes, let her senses go.
The wind in the trees. The staccato chirp of a downy woodpecker. The angry chatter of a squirrel. The scent of pines and fresh, clean air.
When she opened her eyes again, she found Jason watching her.
She met his gaze, felt a stab of longing, looked away. “It’s beautiful up here.”
“That’s what my great-grandfather thought.” Jack reached into his lunch bag and drew out his apple. “He bought this land after fighting in France in World War One. He wanted to escape the world and find some peace.”
Winona unwrapped her brownie. “Did he? Find peace, I mean.”
“I surely hope so.”
After lunch, they moved on again, heading across the mountainside but no longer gaining elevation. The wind picked up, got colder, a bank of gray clouds moving in from the northwest.
Nate looked up. “That storm is coming.”
It was around three in the afternoon when they reached the western property line of the Cimarron and found the fence down.
“This is the old mining road.” Jack pointed with a gloved hand. “That’s Forest Service land on the other side.”
Jason held up one end of the severed wire. “Wire cutters. This is where he’s coming onto your property. You could repair the fence, put up more warning signs, let him know you’re aware of him, maybe even put up some kind of surveillance camera.”
Nate turned to his father. “I’ll bring up some men and repair it as soon as I get a chance. He could just cut the fence again or enter somewhere else, but at least the bastard will know we’re watching.”
Jason knelt by the road. “The tracks lead that way, down the mountain. But there are a lot of other tracks mixed in—bike tires, other four-wheelers, horses.”
Deputy Marcs knelt beside him. “It looks like this road is popular with mountain bikers, hikers, horseback riders, and all-terrain vehicles. Are you able to discern one set of tire tracks from another in all this mess?”
“Yeah. I could lose it farther on, but for now, it’s pretty clear.”
Winona walked over, looked down at the overlapping tracks. “How is that clear?”
Jason touched a finger to the track. “See the flying chevron here in the center of the tire tread? That’s our guy. Let’s see where this goes.”
Jason followed the four-wheeler’s tracks down the road, the others behind him, the wind ice-cold. They moved faster now, partly because the sign was easier to see than it had been in the forest and partly because they were heading downhill.
Jason stepped over a large pile of horse manure. “I wonder why he’s getting onto your property at that location. Why drive all the way up this road? This is Cimarron land here to our left, isn’t it? Why not cut the fence somewhere closer to the pasture?”
“Good question.” Deputy Marcs fell in beside him, ponytail swinging. “There are miles of fence line here. He could have cut through at any point. Why spend the fuel and the time driving up here?”
“There has to be a reason the poacher chose that spot.” Jason considered the possibilities. “Jack, are there any natural obstacles?”
“There’s a steep ravine. He could be trying to avoid it.”
“Why wouldn’t he try to enter your land below the ravine?” That seemed a lot easier to Jason. “The pastures are down here, not up there.”
Nate had that answer. “That would put him near the Forest Service parking area—and a lot of potential witnesses who might wonder what a guy with a rifle, a freshly bagged kill, and a wolf is doing out here.”
Jason turned to Winona. “Would a wolf be a problem around people?”
“If he has a wolf, he’ll do his best to avoid people and other canines. Wild wolves never become pets. Even hand-reared ones like Shota and wolfdog crossbreeds remain pretty wild. Their behavior can be unpredictable. They can be wonderful, but people have been mauled and even killed by animals they thought were tame.”
Then Jason saw another breach in the fence. “Someone cut through here, too.”
“Is it the same guy?” Deputy Marcs asked.
“I don’t know how long ago this happened. There might not be any sign left.” Jason searched the ground for wolf tracks, tire treads, boot prints, or anything else that might offer information about who had done this. “There.”
Under the canopy of a tall pine was a small section of tire tread. In the center was the telltale flying chevron.
Nate knelt beside Jason. “The bastard must have tried here first and found himself cut off by the ravine. Then he did some recon and mo
ved farther up the mountain.”
“Looks like it.”
They kept going down the road and soon came to a creek. About ten feet wide from bank to bank, it bisected the trail. Someone had placed a couple of boards over it to act as a bridge. The water wasn’t deep, but the erosion and sand deposits on the downhill side told Jason that the creek frequently overflowed.
“This part of the road floods in the spring,” Jack said.
Jason crossed the makeshift bridge—and the trail went cold. He stopped, doubled back, tried again, moving more slowly. When that yielded nothing, he walked farther down the road, hoping to pick up the trail again, but he found nothing. “The trail stops here. He might have driven up the creek bed. We can follow this onto Forest Service land and see what we find.”
Deputy Marcs zipped her parka to her chin. “We get squatters on Forest Service land sometimes. I’ve helped rangers clear off more than a few.”
Jack stopped, looked up at the sky. “I think we ought to call it a day. Those storm clouds are headed this way, and the temps are dropping fast. It will take us longer to get back up this trail than it took to get down. I’m guessing it will be a few hours before we get back to our vehicles.”
They turned and hiked back up the road.
They hadn’t gone far when Jason spotted a rough-looking man with a long beard, long hair, and a sidearm standing off to the side of the road, a grin on his face.
“I don’t like the feel of that guy,” Deputy Marcs whispered.
Neither did Jason. “He looks like one of those squatters you mentioned. No backpack. No winter coat. No vehicle or mountain bike.”
Jason wasn’t one to judge someone based on their appearance, but there was something about this guy. It wasn’t the hair or the beard. It was that smile—and the way he was looking at them. Jason had long ago learned to trust his instincts.
He caught up with Winona. “Stay close, okay?”
She nodded.
They drew even with the man, who hadn’t taken a single step.
“Well, look at that.” The man chuckled. “A lady deputy.”
Deputy Marcs ignored him.
“Ain’t you gonna ask for my ID?”
“Not today.”
“Good, because I ain’t got one. I’m a freeman, not a federal citizen like the rest of you. My flesh has been freed.”
“How nice for you.” Deputy Marcs’ voice dripped with sarcasm.
But the man went on. “The other little lady—she’s that Indian gal from Scarlet, ain’t she? Yeah, she is. She’s that pretty little Indian gal. What’s your name, sugar?”
Jason bit his tongue and took Winona’s hand. He didn’t like this bastard’s tone or his language—or the fact that he was singling out the women.
Deputy Marcs lowered her voice. “He must be one of those crazy sovereign citizens—anti-government types who live out of vehicles and tents. We get a fair number of them around here. Most of the time, they just want to be left alone.”
Jason was familiar with them. “Once in a while, we find one living in the desert on our land and escort them to our borders.”
He glanced back to make sure the guy wasn’t following them and saw that he was watching them, that idiot grin still on his face.
Chapter 10
By the time they reached their vehicles, the first snowflakes were beginning to fall. While Jack and Nate spoke with Deputy Marcs, Winona and Jason waited in Jack’s truck, out of the cold and the wind.
“I’m sorry for how that bastard spoke to you, Win.” Jason took her hand. “I can tell it upset you. It pissed me off, too.”
Jason was right. The bastard’s words had upset her. They had left a weight in the pit of her stomach, a sense of dread. “It’s not your fault.”
Jack and Nate had also apologized, though they weren’t to blame, either.
Jason’s jaw clenched. “I wanted to shut his mouth for him.”
Winona squeezed his fingers. “I’m glad you didn’t, given that Deputy Marcs was standing right there.”
“It might have been worth it.”
“You know what bothers me most?” After last night, Winona felt safe telling him this. “He knows where I live. He must have seen me somewhere in Scarlet. What if he comes to town? What if he comes to the clinic? He scares me.”
“Maybe it’s time to boost security there, install floodlights and cams and put a system on the front door that requires someone to buzz people in.”
“Buzz people in? In Scarlet?”
“If the people of this little town are as warm-hearted as you say they are, they’ll want you to feel safe at work.”
She supposed he was right. “I put a bell on the door after the attack so I would know when someone enters the clinic. Every time it rings, I tense.”
“We can look into your options when we get back to Scarlet.”
It touched her to think he cared. “Thanks.”
Jack and Nate climbed into the truck, prompting Winona to release Jason’s hand. They started the drive back to the house.
Nate glanced back at them over his shoulder. “We’re mighty grateful to the two of you for your help today. We know a lot more today than yesterday, and I learned a few things about cutting sign.”
Jason answered Nate with a nod. “You’re welcome.”
Winona couldn’t take any credit. “Jason did all the work. I identified animal poo and talked about ecosystems.”
But Nate wouldn’t accept that. “Hey, we learned from you, too, Winona.”
“I wish I’d gotten a look at the tread on that guy’s boots,” Jason said.
“I talked with Deputy Marcs about him.” Nate faced forward, took off his gloves. “She doesn’t think it’s him. He had no four-wheeler, no rifle, no wolf that we could see. Plus, he doesn’t look like he has money. To get a four-wheeler of that size up here, he’d need a trailer and a truck to hitch it to.”
“We’re looking for someone with a bit of disposable income, not some idiot who thinks he’s Daniel Boone.” Jack turned on the truck’s windshield wipers, the snow falling harder now. “I’m going to run it all by Janet tonight.”
Nate grinned. “My father’s wife used to work for the FBI. When they first met, he threw her off the property.”
“Which neither of you will ever let me forget.”
“Is that true?” Winona had a hard time imagining someone as kind as Jack throwing anyone off his land.
“It wasn’t my finest moment.”
Janet West was much younger than her husband—probably in her mid-forties. She met them outside the garage, her daughter on her hip, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. “How did it go?”
“Hey, Lily-bean.” Jack scooped the toddler into his arms, quickly brought his wife up to date, then introduced Janet to Winona and Jason. “We’re hungry, woman. What’s cookin’?”
Janet kissed his cheek, a teasing smile on her face. “Whatever you make, of course. The salad is done, and the baked potatoes are in the oven.”
While Jack and Nate fired up a big gas grill and handled the steaks, Janet gave them a tour of the house—they hadn’t had time for one this morning—and then invited Winona and Jason to kick back in front of the fireplace in the living room. She walked with a noticeable limp, and Winona seemed to remember something about her having been shot in the line of duty.
“Can I bring either of you something to drink—beer, wine, whisky?”
Jason sank onto a long leather sofa. “Whisky. Thanks.”
Winona sat beside him. “Do you have any flavored seltzer water?”
“We sure do—raspberry, I think.”
“Perfect.”
Janet disappeared, returning quickly with their drinks.
“Thank you.” Winona glanced around, feeling strangely safe and at home here, the stress of their encounter with the creepy guy melting away.
Or maybe she was just stunned by their surroundings. She’d never seen a house like this before. S
he’d never known that anyone lived like this. Not only did they have a gym and a sauna, but they also had a two-story library with a fireplace. More than once, she and Jason had exchanged looks, both of them astounded.
“They call this a house?” Jason had whispered.
Jason took his whisky from Janet. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to one of these steaks. McBride swears they’re the best.”
Janet nodded like she’d heard that before, her lips curving in a smile. “I would have to agree with him.”
Then Emily came bounding down the stairs in jeans and a pink, sparkly sweater, a pair of fuzzy bunny ears on her blond head, Megan, Nate’s wife, back from Denver and following her daughter with little Jackson in her arms.
Emily’s face lit up. “Winona!”
Winona was surprised the child remembered her. “Hey, Emily. How was school?”
“It was okay. I like my teacher, but Ms. Walker made us do odd and even numbers again, and that’s boring. How is Shota?”
“I went to visit him a few weeks ago, and he was doing very well. I have a newborn nephew named Shota now.”
Emily’s nose wrinkled in confusion. “You named a baby after a wolf?”
Winona couldn’t help but laugh and saw that Jason was smiling, too. “Shota is a boy’s name in my language.”
The little girl’s eyes widened with understanding. “Oh.”
Megan introduced herself to Jason. “I’m Megan, Nate’s wife. This is Emily, our daughter. She’s eight.”
Emily grew indignant. “I’m eight and a half.”
Winona thought she was adorable. “That half is important, isn’t it, Emily?”
“This is Jackson.” Megan lowered the toddler to the floor. “He’s two and a half and into everything.”
Then Jack and Nate stepped through the sliding glass door.
Jack glanced around, as if confused. “Who are all you people?”
Emily hopped over to him. “Silly Grandpa Jack! We’re your family.”
Jack waggled the girl’s bunny ears. “My family?”
Nate shook his head, a grin on his face. “Don’t let my old man fool you. He loves a full house. Get your jackets on and join us on the patio. Dinner’s ready.”
