Aspen in Moonlight

by Kelly Wacker

  Thank you so much for being willing to meet with me! I would be able to stop by the visitors’ center tomorrow at 10, if that time is still good for you. I have not yet been there, though it is on my list of places to visit. I look forward to meeting you! Best, Melissa.

  Sula’s dinner arrived, and she put the phone away as the bartender set the plate down in front of her, along with a set of silverware in a red cloth napkin. Sula unrolled it, placed the napkin in her lap, and tucked in to her savory meal. They knew how to cook fish properly here, which meant not overcooking it. She was almost finished when the woman’s date walked in.

  Kerry MacArthur, Betty’s livery manager, strutted across the room with her eyes on the woman, grinning like a coyote about to pounce. Sula swallowed and stuck her fork into the potato. It was definitely a date. Kerry was dressed in a western-style, long-sleeved turquoise shirt, jeans that had been ironed with a crease running straight down the front of each pant leg, and polished boots that looked like they’d never trod across dirt.

  Kerry was great at her job. Sula understood why Betty had hired her, but Sula had never much cared for her for a number of reasons, her big ego being one. She tried to avoid situations where she’d have to make polite conversation with her. The blond woman, who was now smiling back at Kerry, was definitely a tourist. Kerry habitually hooked up with summer visitors who were amenable to…what would be the polite way of putting it? A short-term romance.

  Fortunately, Kerry’s attention was directed entirely at the woman in front of her. Sula found it difficult to avoid listening to their conversation.

  “Hey,” Kerry said as she walked up to Melissa.

  “I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that,” Kerry said, without further explanation. She waved to the bartender and ordered a Jack and Coke. “I’ll make up for it with the second round and dinner.”

  Melissa took a sip of her beer. Kerry appeared to have showered and dressed for an evening out. She looked a little flushed, and Melissa thought she detected the scent of alcohol underneath the musky perfume she wore.

  The bartender slid the drink across the bar, and Kerry grabbed the old-fashioned glass and lifted it. “Here’s to mountain lions and wild rides. Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” Melissa tapped her glass against Kerry’s.

  Kerry tipped her glass back and took a deep swallow. As she set it back down on the bar, something behind Melissa caught her eye. An unpleasant look flashed across the wrangler’s face, and then she smiled wanly. Curious as to what drew her attention, Melissa turned around to see a dark-haired woman a few seats over at the end of the bar. Holding her fork in the air, she seemed to have stopped midway through taking a bite and was looking at them. Her eyes glowed amber in the low light, reflecting the light illuminating the liquor bottles arranged on glass shelves behind the bar. The woman put her fork down, cocking her head slightly, her expression inscrutable.

  “Hey, Sula,” Kerry said.

  “Hey, Kerry,” the woman replied, picking up the napkin from her lap and dabbing the corners of her mouth. “Did you just say something about a mountain lion?”

  Kerry’s face lit up. “Yes, I did. Have I got a story to tell you.”

  Sula? How many people here have the name Sula? “Are you, by chance, Sula Johansen?” Melissa asked.

  “I am.” Sula looked confused.

  “I’m Melissa Warren.” Without hesitation Melissa smiled, stood, and walked over to Sula. When Sula got to her feet, Melissa was momentarily taken aback; she must have been over six feet tall. Sula took Melissa’s outstretched hand in hers, her handshake firm but gentle. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.” Sula’s expression shifted from a look of confusion to one of amusement. “I think you just sent me a message from five feet away.”

  Melissa laughed. “I did!”

  “You two know each other?” Kerry asked.

  “No. We just met,” Sula said.

  Sula was slow to release her hand, and Melissa found herself reluctant to let go. Sula was attractive, with dark, wavy hair falling just above the edge of her collar and long bangs. She wore a long-sleeved shirt the color of moss, the cuffs rolled up. The shirt was embroidered with the logo Melissa recognized from the wildlife-safety pamphlet she’d received from Betty. Her shirt was tucked into dark-brown pants, and she wore hiking boots that were a little dusty. She had broad shoulders, but she wasn’t shaped like a man. Far from it. She had feminine curves. But it was her eyes, Melissa realized, that transfixed her. Up close she saw that they weren’t entirely amber. Several other colors were present: deep brown with a little green mixed in and a few copper highlights.

  Kerry looked back and forth at them, drained her glass, and gestured to the bartender for another drink. “Let me tell you the story.”

  Sula broke eye contact with her to look at Kerry and released her hand. “The one that involves the mountain lion?”

  “Yes,” Kerry replied with barely contained excitement. “So, Melissa here was on a trail ride I was leading today. We were going up and over the side of Widow Mountain when a mule deer, a big eight-point buck, came out of the trees, running full speed down the hillside like the devil was on his tail. A mountain lion was hot on its heels! Can you believe it? The mountain lion ran the buck down the hill, and he ran into her horse—”

  “The mountain lion?”

  “No, the buck. He couldn’t turn fast enough and bounced off her horse and then kept on running. That mountain lion was so focused on the mulie, it wasn’t paying attention to anything else.” Kerry paused to sip her drink.

  Sula glanced over at Melissa with raised eyebrows.

  “It’s true,” Melissa said. “The mountain lion stopped right in front of me and just stared for a second. It was so close I could see that it was missing a piece of its ear, like a tomcat gets from fighting, you know?”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” Melissa smiled as she remembered the animal. “It was the most amazing and the most beautiful thing I’ve ever—”

  “And then,” Kerry said, “her horse took off running at a full gallop in the direction of the buck. Her saddle slipped, and her horse started bucking up a storm.”

  “Tucker didn’t start bucking until after I was off him.” Melissa looked at Kerry sideways.

  Kerry continued, seemingly unperturbed, and stepped closer to Melissa. “I got up alongside and grabbed her around the middle like this—” Kerry tried to demonstrate by wrapping her arm around Melissa. Frowning, she squirmed out of her grasp, but Kerry seemed nonplussed. “Well, I grabbed her and set her down on the ground as gently as you please and then went back to her horse. The saddle had slid under his belly, and he looked like a bucking bronc in a rodeo, hopping and kicking. I popped the latigo strap off the saddle and he settled down.” Kerry gestured to Melissa as if she were presenting a car she’d just polished. “And here she is, not a scratch on her.”

  Melissa felt like Kerry was showing her off, and she didn’t like that she’d been touching her throughout the story. The wrangler’s charm was wearing thin.

  “Mountain lions rarely show themselves,” Sula said to Melissa. “You’re very lucky to have seen it.”

  “I wasn’t lucky enough to have had my rifle with me,” Kerry said before taking a sip of her drink. She glanced at Sula with a look that indicated that she regretted the words that had just come out of her mouth.

  “What?” Melissa cocked her head at Kerry. “Why?”

  Kerry looked uncomfortable, didn’t say anything, and took another drink and set the glass down on the bar.

  “You should answer her,” Sula said. Kerry shot her a dirty look in response.

  “Yes, tell me. Why?”

  Kerry cleared her throat, fidgeting with the napkin under her glass, and then said unconvincingly, “To protect you.”

  Melissa glanced at Sula, who had one eyebrow raised, but said nothing.

  “Pr
otect me? That lion didn’t seem aggressive—to me, anyway. I interrupted its chance for a meal. As soon as it realized it wasn’t going to catch that deer, it ran away.”

  Sula nodded.

  “So…why would you want to shoot the mountain lion?” Melissa asked pointedly.

  Kerry said nothing and let out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes.

  Sula broke the silence. “Kerry’s a trophy hunter.” Her voice sounded flat and cold.

  “Really.” It was all Melissa could think to say. She had mixed feelings about hunting. She didn’t like it, but over the years she had learned that some of her students came from deep poverty and their families relied on wild game to supplement what they could afford to buy at the grocery store. But trophy hunters? She considered them as something akin to serial killers.

  “Yes, I am.” Kerry looked at Sula with a piercing stare and then, more gently, back to Melissa. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s all legal. I don’t break the law.”

  “That doesn’t make it ethical,” Sula said quietly.

  “Fuck you, Sula. You think animals should have more rights than people. Hunting keeps things in balance so the deer and elk don’t starve to death because there isn’t enough forage for them all. And hunters bring a lot of money into this community.”

  “Kerry’s a hunting guide in the fall.” Sula spoke calmly to Melissa and then turned, looking down at Kerry. She leaned forward, speaking in a low voice that was almost like a growl. “And the deer and elk populations are so big because people like you have killed off most of the predators so you can play predator. Taking a life because you need to survive, because it’s what you evolved to do, is a whole different thing than killing for sport, or to take home a trophy to remind you of the thrill of the kill.”

  Kerry said nothing in reply and took another drink, finishing it.

  Sula turned to Melissa with a concerned expression. “Melissa, I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your date. I’m going to leave now.”

  “I’m done here, too.” Melissa pulled cash out of her wallet and placed it on the bar.

  “Oh, come on,” Kerry said, reaching out and touching Melissa’s arm. “We’ll have fun tonight. I promise.”

  Melissa shook off Kerry’s hand. “No. I don’t think so.” She grabbed her bag. “Sula, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Of course,” Sula said. “I need to pay, and then I’ll meet you outside.”

  Melissa turned to Kerry. “Look, Kerry. I appreciate everything you did today. I really do.”

  Kerry opened her mouth, and when she started to speak Melissa held up her hand.

  “Let’s just leave it at that.”

  Melissa walked away, leaving Kerry standing at the bar with her mouth open like a gasping fish. Melissa had a feeling she wasn’t often turned down. She made her way outside and stood in front of the restaurant waiting for Sula. The sky was turquoise and gold, and the sun, just starting to dip behind the mountains, bathed everything in a warm light. When Sula walked out the door and came toward her, Melissa noted that she moved with an easy grace. She didn’t say anything and seemed to be waiting for Melissa to speak first.

  Melissa looked up at her. “Should I be worried about her?”

  “For her safety or yours?” A slight smile formed on Sula’s lips.

  “Mmm…both?”

  “She’ll be all right. The staff here are good people. The bartender will cut her off or find her a safe way home if she needs it.”

  “And me?”

  “I wouldn’t worry. You made yourself clear in there. She likes the chase, but she’ll find someone who actually wants to play with her.”

  “I sort of got the feeling she’s good at that.” Melissa began to feel a little embarrassed and grimaced. “This isn’t exactly how I thought we’d meet.”

  “I have an idea,” Sula said with a warm smile that put Melissa at ease. “What do you say we start our introductions all over again tomorrow as originally planned?”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Melissa said with a sigh of relief.

  Chapter Nine

  Looking in the mirror attached to the back of the car’s sun visor, Melissa checked her hair and makeup one more time. She wiped away a little smudge of lipstick along the edge of her lower lip with her pinkie and flipped the visor up. She got out and smoothed her dress with the palm of her hand. Walking across the parking lot of the Colorado Bear Conservancy, she tried to shake off the nervousness that had plagued her all morning. She’d gone through several wardrobe changes before leaving the cabin, from outdoorsy hiking pants to casual jeans, and then settled on a sundress and sandals. Her thoughts hovered around Sula Johansen in the bar yesterday, her curious amber eyes and the feel of her hand, warm against her own.

  The entrance of the visitors’ center looked like a traditional alpine lodge with large log posts and beams, but she could see that the structure behind it was a contemporary design and even had a green roof. Impressed, she walked into the brightly illuminated space beyond the front door. The information desk was directly in front of her.

  “Good morning,” said the young man enthusiastically at the desk. His name tag identified him: Andrew from Connecticut. “Welcome to the Colorado Bear Conservancy.”

  “Good morning. I’m here to meet Sula Johansen. I have an appointment with her at ten.”

  “I’ll let her know you’re here.” Andrew picked up a phone. “What’s your name?”

  “Melissa Warren.”

  Andrew nodded and made the call, relaying the information, then placed the phone back on the receiver. “Ms. Johansen said she’s waiting for you by the mountain-lion display. If you go straight ahead into the exhibition hall and then turn toward your right after the wildflower display, it will be directly in front of you.”

  Melissa smiled at Andrew, but she was really smiling at Sula’s little joke. She thanked him and followed his directions. The displays were themed and organized into color-coded sections painted in natural colors, reflecting the landscape outside. There were photographs of animals and plants with explanatory information. There were also interactive displays and flat-screen monitors playing videos. Bears were featured, but it seemed that the whole local Rocky Mountain ecosystem was represented. Cleverly, the polished-concrete floor had what appeared to be tracks of various animals running in different directions. She walked past a woman taking a picture of her daughter, a young girl, as she studied some small footprints, comparing them to the ones printed on a sheet of paper she clutched in her hand.

  Melissa found the wildflower section and turned to see Sula standing in front of a life-size photograph of a mountain lion perched majestically on a log. She was dressed like the day before but in different colors: dark-green pants and a tan shirt with the conservancy logo. Her dark, wavy hair was styled so that it framed her face pleasantly. She had a natural and healthy-looking complexion, like that of someone who spends a good deal of time in fresh air and light. As Melissa approached, she noticed that Sula’s features were highlighted with makeup, but she wore it with subtlety.

  “Dr. Warren, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Sula smiled and held out her hand.

  Melissa played along and extended her own hand. “Ms. Johansen, the pleasure’s all mine.” When she took Sula’s hand, the strange electricity of her amber eyes seemed to channel through her touch. “I have the strangest sense of déjà vu.”

  “As if we’ve met before?” Sula asked with a grin and what seemed to be a mischievous expression.

  “Yes, exactly that. How did you know?”

  “I have the same feeling.” Sula smiled. “It’s uncanny.”

  “Yes, it is. Please call me Melissa. May I call you Sula?”

  “Please do.”

  They laughed together at their shared joke. Melissa pointed to the picture of the mountain lion that loomed on the wall over Sula’s shoulder. “Watch out for that lion there.”

  “Oh, she’s just a big pussycat.”
<
br />   “Hardly.”

  “No. She really is. Mountain lions are the largest of the small cats and are actually closer relatives to the domestic house cat than to the big cats like jaguars and tigers. They purr like their little cousins, but they don’t roar like the big cats.”

  Melissa studied the image on the wall behind Sula. “That’s very interesting.”

  “Daytime kills aren’t unheard of, but they’re usually nocturnal or crepuscular hunters, so the sighting you had yesterday was unusual.”

  “Crepuscular hunter?”

  “Yes. Crepuscule means twilight.”

  “I know.” Melissa smiled slowly. “It’s one of my favorite words. You don’t hear it used very often.”

  Sula looked down at her with a thoughtful expression. “I realize you’re here for a different reason, but would you like a quick tour before we sit down to talk?”

  “How could I refuse a private tour with the executive director? But first I have to say that this building is impressive. I noticed the solar panels in the parking lot and the green roof.”

  “It was really important to me that this building be as self-sufficient as possible. Not only is the green roof attractive, but it helps insulate the building, which saves energy and money. We also generate about seventy-five percent of our own power from solar and collect rainwater for the landscaping, which consists of all native plants, by the way.” Sula smiled like a proud parent.

  As they walked through the hall, Melissa was impressed by the museum-level quality of the exhibition design.

  “Do you have a curator?”

  “No. We have a graphic designer on staff and contract an exhibition designer.” Sula went on to explain how all the parts contributed to an overarching theme, the interconnectedness of biotic communities, with, of course, a heavy emphasis on bears. They paused in front of a world map showing the range of all species of bears.

  “We’re focusing on black bears where we are here.” Sula pointed to the red heart on the map. “But we like to point out that bears live on one third of the planet’s land mass—it used to be much more—and that they’re an integral part of ecosystems. They’re what is known as an indicator species, meaning that healthy populations of bears indicate the presence of certain other plants and animals, all signals that things are in balance. Protect bears and you help protect everything else.”