Wild and Free

by Vella Munn

  It was another hour before Steve and Melinda returned to camp. During that time Calley resigned herself to Dean’s logic. Just because she was excited by the prospect of taking part in a rescue was no excuse for abandoning what she’d been hired to do. Maybe another time.

  Melinda’s disappointment at not having seen any grizzlies turned to anticipation at the prospect of accompanying either Dean or Steve into Yellowstone to attend to the injured bear the park staff was trying to save. “Please, Steve,” she begged, “let me go with you. I’ll stay out of the way.”

  As easily as that, the decision was made. Steve and Dean decided that capturing the bear wouldn’t take both of them, and there was no need for Dean to abort his current study. “We’ll leave as soon as it gets light,” Steve announced. “But I hope to be back in a couple of days. All those people running around Yellowstone get to me.”

  “Yeah,” Dean said with a chuckle. “They won’t leave the place to you.”

  It wasn’t until after dinner that Melinda drew Calley aside. On the pretext of wanting Calley to accompany her down to the river, Melinda waited until they were out of earshot and then put an arm around her friend’s shoulders, looking closely at Calley’s face. “Are you sure you don’t mind being left alone with Dean?”

  “Why should I?” Calley asked. “He won’t make me carry both packs.”

  “That isn’t what I’m talking about, and I think you know it. Besides, what you do is none of my business.” Melinda screwed up her face to reinforce her words. “But, Cal, that man over there is special. When I told him I was thinking of getting married, we wound up talking for a couple of hours. He wanted to be sure I was going into it with my eyes open. He, well, he sounded like the voice of experience. He knows about a lot of the pitfalls of a relationship. He’s intense. That’s the best way I can put it, intense. I just want you to be aware of what you could be getting into.”

  “I’m not going to get into anything,” Calley said. “I’m not sure I’ve put Mike to rest.”

  “That’s why—maybe you’d like me to stay here,” Melinda was offering.

  “Thank you,” Calley said with a laugh. “I appreciate it, really, but I don’t want a keeper.”

  “He is special, isn’t he?”

  “Who?” Calley asked, although she knew where her friend’s question was leading.

  “Dean. He isn’t one of those stuffy bureaucrats, and he isn’t into grizzlies because he wants to make a name for himself. How much he cares comes through in everything he says and is. How can someone not be attracted to a man like that?”

  “You make him sound like a saint,” Calley pointed out. “I don’t suppose you’ve noticed that he has big feet and probably wouldn’t be allowed inside a barbershop.”

  “So you noticed his big feet. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed his voice, too. Damn sexy, isn’t it?”

  Calley had noticed. “A low voice helps in the forest. Are you sure you don’t have a crush on him yourself?”

  Despite the dark, Calley could see Melinda’s smile. “It’s no crime. Yes, I have a man. Just the same, there’s no harm in a little hero-worship, is there? I’m too old to moon after a rock star, and besides, Dean has more muscles and intelligence than those characters.”

  Calley laughed again, relieved to have the conversation take a light turn. “Like they say, he puts on his pants one leg at a time,” she said as she started back toward the campsite. “I’m not as gullible as I once was,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Maybe,” Melinda said from behind her. “And maybe you’re a lot more vulnerable.”

  Melinda was wrong. So much had happened in the past year. Mike was only a minor part of that.

  Steve and Melinda left as soon as it was light the next morning. Calley was sorry to see them go, because she hadn’t had time to get to know Steve, and having another woman around to talk to after the difficult year she’d been through was something she’d been enjoying. But there was enough for her and Dean to do to keep her busy.

  As they were cleaning up after breakfast, Dean outlined what he wanted to accomplish for the day. In the rush to set up snares for the bears, neither he nor Steve had taken time to catalog the types and availability of vegetation. “It’s not one of the most interesting aspects of the study,” Dean admitted. “But if you’re game, I’d like to get it out of the way.”

  Calley suggested that they split up in order to speed up the process. As she explained, she had considerable experience in identifying trees and plants and knew how to describe a region adequately for future reference. “Do you want to flip to see which of us takes which side of the river?” she asked.

  “Not so fast.” Dean stopped her. “You’re not going anywhere until we’ve set up a communication system. I assume you know how to work a walkie-talkie.”

  Calley had no objection to what Dean was suggesting. Going out in bear country without a way of communicating was foolhardy. He stood close to her while she demonstrated her proficiency with the walkie-talkie. She was aware of his warmth radiating out toward her, his eyes on her hands, his breath disturbing the hairs along the side of her temple.

  “You’ll be careful?” Dean asked in the gentle tone Melinda had spoken about last night. “I want you back here before dark.”

  Calley looked up at him. “Yes, boss.”

  “I’m not your boss. At least I don’t think of myself as anyone’s boss. Just do what I say, please.”

  He wasn’t giving orders or taking advantage of any male dominance. She was grateful for a man who allowed her the freedom to dictate her own life but at the same time asked that she be aware of his wishes and desires.

  “I’ll be back before you are. And I’ll be careful if you are,” she said.

  Dean let her go then. He should be slipping into his own day pack and taking off toward the new growth a mile away, which was slowly hiding the scars of a small forest fire, but he wasn’t. Instead, he stood watching Calley’s retreating back until he could no longer see the easy sway of her hips, her long strides, the windblown hair trailing over her shoulders. He hadn’t watched a woman’s walk since Waina.

  The two looked nothing alike. Whereas Waina boldly carried her dark heritage, Calley’s color came from the elements. Her broad shoulders gave the illusion that there was more to the woman than there actually was. She was slim in the hips, with a waist he could encompass with his hands. Her breasts, he guessed, were small and soft. Her strong jaw and narrow nose gave her face definition. Softness and strong angles—he liked the way it all came together.

  He should have asked Mike what Calley Stewart was like before luring her back to the project. Damn it, he should have his head examined for not thinking about what he might be getting himself into. But then Mike probably wouldn’t have said much of a personal nature about the woman who’d once been his girlfriend.

  That fact didn’t bother Dean. He believed in giving others their personal space. What they’d done with their lives was their business. Maybe because he spent so much time alone, Dean enjoyed being given glimpses into the personal lives of the people he worked with, but he never made judgments about those lives. He’d learned from Mike that his old friend and Calley Stewart had been lovers.

  That was all he knew.

  Chapter Three

  For the first hour on her own, Calley was occupied with getting a feel for her surroundings, but at length she found an excuse for getting in touch with Dean. She pressed the talk button on her walkie-talkie and waited for him to respond. “Do you hunt?” she asked as she tried to picture where he was and what he was doing.

  “I haven’t for years,” Dean answered. Static caused by the distance separating them stripped his voice of much of its character. “I kind of lost my taste for it. Why?”

  “Because I’m watching a magnificent four-point buck who’s watching me,” Calley explained as the large mule deer, some fifty yards away and higher up the mountain, lowered his head for a better view of her. A
lthough she thought she knew what Dean’s answer was going to be, even if it meant risking spooking the buck, it was nice hearing it from him. “He certainly is master of all he surveys. I think he knows it isn’t hunting season.”

  “You be careful,” Dean warned.

  “Of what? A deer? I don’t believe I live up to his standards. He doesn’t seem to have any intention of adding me to his harem.” Calley shifted her weight, careful not to bring her boots down on any dry twigs or needles. The buck was someone to share the day with; she didn’t want to lose the sense of silent communication.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Dean said in the same take-charge tone he’d used earlier today before sending her off. “It’d take me an hour to get to you if you got into trouble.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Dean Ramsey,” Calley replied with mock irritation. She was enjoying her encounter with the deer too much to be angry at anyone. Its large ears, which were responsible for the species’ name, were dwarfed by the heavy, evenly forked antlers. The creature carried himself with a casual arrogance that stirred Calley’s senses.

  “We had deer everywhere on the farm,” she went on, caught up in the mood created by the buck’s presence. “They would eat the hay we set out for the cattle and then jump the fences, leaving the cattle wondering how they did it.” She paused a minute as she collected her thoughts. “This is different. I always thought of the deer on the ranch as pets, or attractive nuisances. There were a few old does who practically ate out of my hand. This fellow—” She paused again. “This buck is special. He has to be pretty wise in the way of man, or he wouldn’t have gotten to the size he is. He probably has his pick of the females. I’m glad you don’t hunt.”

  Calley heard Dean draw in a long breath. “I’m glad I don’t, either,” he answered slowly. “I probably had buck fever as bad as any teenager, but then I killed one. I’ll never forget those eyes. I don’t think I could ever do it again. What’s your friend doing now?”

  Calley studied the buck for a moment. She wished Dean were here with her instead of on the other side of the river. She wanted to see the look in his eyes as he told her why he’d never hunt again. He would appreciate the buck’s rich brownish-red coat, the dark nose and band around its muzzle, the white face and thick throat that told her he was in his prime and eager to prove the point to every doe in the mountains. Like her, Dean’s eyes would be drawn to the heavy antlers topping off a two-hundred-pound body. “He’s letting the rest of the world know he’s king of the heap,” she explained. “He has his head held high, and his tail is extended straight back. That’s his way of telling any other bucks in the area that he’s the big cheese and they’d better not mess with him.”

  There was static from Dean’s end, but she could still make out his words. “You know a lot about deer.”

  “Of course I do,” Calley said, interjecting an overdose of confidence into her voice. “This isn’t just any old hick you hired off the streets, you know. When it comes to deer, I know my stuff. Do you want to learn more?” she asked, and then continued before he had a chance to comment. “Not many people know how to tell when a doe is ready to breed. It’s all in her tail. If it’s held stiffly out to one side, that means she’s in heat and ready for service.” It wasn’t until she’d finished speaking that Calley realized what she’d said. Although it was a four-legged creature she was talking about, it was a rather intimate matter to be discussing with a disembodied voice.

  “And where did you learn that?” Dean asked, his voice unmistakably laced with humor.

  “I just did. Don’t make fun of me. Did you know that the smaller bucks tuck their tails between their legs when they come across a dominant buck?” Calley asked in an attempt to turn the conversation in a less sticky direction. “It’s their sign that they know where they stand in the pecking order. They don’t want the big guys taking them on.”

  “About this servicing business. Have you ever seen a buck and doe in action?” Despite the distance between them, there was no denying that Dean held the upper hand in the conversation.

  Calley took a deep breath to give herself courage. “Once. At the ranch years ago. You’re baiting me, aren’t you?”

  The walkie-talkie hissed again. “You have to admit you walked into that one. And I’m not baiting you, Calley. I really was curious.”

  “Don’t you have anything better to do than waste my time?” Calley snapped in mock anger. “Besides, I think this buck is getting bored with me. I’m not going to make his harem this year. He’s taking off.” Calley lifted her hand in a salute to the buck’s supremacy. He bore his solitude as easily as he bore the antlers he would be using in tests of strength during the autumn breeding season.

  “In case you forgot, you’re the one who started this conversation,” Dean pointed out. “Any bear signs?”

  Calley reported that although she’d spotted a few old bear droppings, she and the big buck seemed to have the area to themselves. She promised to be careful, listened as Dean told her about some beaver-stripped trees he’d come across and then agreed to meet back at camp in another three hours.

  After mentioning a few nearby landmarks so Dean had a good idea of where she was, Calley replaced her walkie-talkie on her belt and continued her silent journey. She was hoping for another view of the buck; instead, in the space of an hour she spotted a doe with its half-grown fawn, put up with a general scolding from an evil-tempered jay and watched a buildup of clouds coming in from the north. By the time she’d made the decision to head back toward camp with the help of her compass, she was sure the clouds were more than an idle threat. She could actually smell the approaching rain.

  Dean had reached camp before her. Calley stood on a ridge overlooking the camp for a few minutes, watching the man through her binoculars as he went about the business of preparing some kind of stew.

  There was no wasted movement as Dean peeled potatoes and carrots and then buried the skins in the pit he and Steve had dug. Calley was fascinated by the comfortable way he squatted on his haunches over the blackened pot while stirring their dinner. She’d never been able to do that for more than a few minutes at a time because the position cut off the circulation in her lower legs, but Dean apparently found squatting as comfortable as sitting.

  It reminded her of pictures she’d seen of Indians hunched over their cooking fires. Except for his full beard and modern dress she would have accepted Dean as a link with the prehistoric past. Although she wasn’t close enough to be sure, she guessed that he was also testing the humidity of the heavy air, his ears tuned for her approach. Honing her senses was something Calley had learned to do as part of growing up responsible for creatures without the power of speech. Although not a product of farm life, obviously Dean had mastered the same skill.

  It gave them something more in common, a way of communicating without having to put certain emotions into words. Understanding that made it easier for Calley to leave the shelter of the woods and walk into camp.

  “You’ll make some woman happy someday,” Calley said as she stepped into the clearing. She nodded in the direction of the stew.

  “That’s what my mother told me,” Dean said. He came to her and helped her out of her day pack, his hands on her shoulders impersonal and not possessive. “She couldn’t believe the change in me when I took my folks camping a couple of years ago. For a kid who couldn’t boil water, I’ve turned into a serviceable cook.”

  Calley didn’t move away from the big man standing near her. He smelled of sweat and pine and wood smoke, smells that were buried deep in Calley’s subconscious. “I’d call that more than serviceable,” she said. “Dinner smells delicious.”

  “An old family recipe. The secret ingredient is an army-ration meat bar mixed in with the vegetables.” Dean wasn’t moving either. He wasn’t touching her, but the inch separating them was more significant than if he had put his arms around her.

  “I’ll have to remember that,” Calley said lamely. She
could sense herself drawing closer to him.

  “You hungry?” With a jerk Dean turned away, his whole focus now on the simmering stew.

  Calley didn’t need words to understand what he’d done. He’d sensed the pregnant moment just as she had. But now he was moving about, getting out their metal plates, unrolling squares of paper toweling to be used as napkins. Calley busied herself by putting away her walkie-talkie and exchanging her hiking boots for comfortable tennis shoes. She used a little of the warm water to splash away the tingling sensation on her face and washed her hands. She would have to put on cream soon to ease the sunburn on her cheeks, but Calley had had her flesh touched by the elements so many times that she was able to dismiss the discomfort for the time being. When she finally walked over to accept the steaming plate, she’d had time to remind herself that this was Dean Ramsey, director of the university-based grizzly project.

  “Not bad,” Calley admitted as she concentrated on her meal. Even now her voice sounded strangely disembodied. She wasn’t sure if it was because she’d used her voice so little today. “I don’t think any of the finer restaurants are going to steal your recipe, but it’s a real treat after the granola bar I had for lunch.”

  “You know what that means, don’t you?” Dean teased. “Dinner tomorrow is your department. You can cook, can’t you?”

  Calley glanced up at the now leaden sky. “If I do, it might be soup. Very watery soup.” This wasn’t so hard, she thought. She could carry on a decent conversation with Dean. “What if it rains tonight?”

  “Then we get wet,” Dean said with a shrug. Obviously physical comfort was a minor concern to him. He’d stripped off his flannel shirt and now wore only a T-shirt. Calley could make out the smooth interplay of muscle and bone as he moved his shoulders. “Our tents are waterproof. We might not be very comfortable, but we’ll be dry.”

  Calley made a quick assessment of the situation. Dean’s pup tent was barely large enough for him to sleep in, let alone move around in while the one she’d brought for her and Melinda’s use was large enough to allow two people to sit in relative comfort. She mentioned that without first weighing the consequences. “I suggest we share mine if this storm lasts as long as I think it’s going to. I’ve slept in enough pup tents to know they get cramped in a hurry.”