by Rachel Lee
That sense had warned him when wolves were watching. It had warned him when bears were watching. He credited it with once saving him from a grizzly mama who was feeling hyperprotective of her cubs.
Dusty had the sense, too. A lot of people laid that to the door of scent, and maybe it was for Dusty. He always knew when danger lurked, and would get fidgety if he felt stalked.
He was looking pretty calm right now, though, standing blanketed under the overhang, appearing to be half-asleep. Much as he liked to get out for a good long walk, he didn’t seem to want it today.
“Getting up there, boy?” he asked the horse as he passed the corral. Dusty blinked one eye at him. He was joking, of course. Dusty was nowhere near retirement.
Craig swung out again, piercing the wall of surrounding trees. He ventured into the nearly night-dark depths of the rainy woods, scanning the ground for disturbance of any kind.
He couldn’t say he was surprised when he saw it: a depression, then another. Scanning quickly he saw enough of them to suggest someone had walked up to this point, stood a bit, then walked away.
Probably still out there, too, he thought. Not watching right now, but getting ready to watch again. The comings and goings today, starting with a sheriff’s vehicle, probably had garnered some interest.
The watching was too intense, too coordinated. Pointless unless these guys were planning some kind of action. The question was what kind? Their secrets were well enough protected on Buddy’s private land, so the only reason to fan out this way was because they felt there was a threat, and if they felt threatened, they’d act. With Cap there, Craig had absolutely no doubt. The only question was who they considered a threat and how far they were willing to go.
Hell. Buddy, what are you thinking? Although he was beginning to wonder if Buddy was thinking at all. Or if Buddy was the one doing the thinking.
He emerged from the woods again and stood looking at the cabin. To shutter or not to shutter. He was definitely of two minds about that. On the one hand, shuttering would give them more privacy and probably make Sky feel more comfortable. On the other it might be read as an indication they knew they were being watched and were preparing for attack. That might send an even more dangerous message to a paranoid bunch of armed men.
Damn.
He walked over to the corral and Dusty came out from under the overhang to nuzzle him. The rain still fell drearily and steadily, and the desire to get back indoors with Sky was filling him. It was a new feeling to him, at least for many years now, to actually want to be indoors with someone. Sky was making him feel a lot of things he’d almost forgotten.
He gave Dusty a few pats and scratches. “Think I’m getting confused, boy?” he asked the horse. “We know she’s going to leave soon, right? The thing is, I can’t seem to get worked up about avoiding the trouble that might bring. I just want to enjoy now with her. Guess I pay for that later.”
Dusty nickered quietly as if he understood. Not likely, but it occurred to Craig that holding conversations with Dusty might be an indication that he needed more human interaction.
The crack of a laugh escaped him. Dusty seemed to like it, tossing his head and then nudging Craig playfully on the shoulder.
“Okay, okay. I’m just sorry I can’t bring you inside, too.”
Dusty made that oddly delicate little snort, one that barely ruffled his nostrils. It always struck Craig as gentle. In return, he gave Dusty a big, smacking kiss on the nose.
Dusty turned his head, eyeing him as if he wasn’t sure he appreciated that, then trotted back over to his dry shelter under the overhang.
Which left Craig to look at the wood shutters. They were heavy, basically planks with crossbars, nothing fancy. But sturdy enough to stand up to the worst the weather could bring, which was the whole point.
Better, he decided, for Sky to feel unobserved. Only three windows needed to be covered, so he closed and barred the shutters quickly. One last stop to make sure they had enough water in the gravity tank, then he picked up an empty bucket and headed inside.
“What’s that for?” Sky asked as she saw the bucket.
“Chamber pot.”
She stood up from the bench. “Someone was out there.”
“Someone definitely was out there. Who and why and what they were doing is anybody’s guess. Regardless, nobody uses the outdoor facilities after dark. I’m going out to my truck to get some plastic bags for liners, and a few rolls of paper. We have just gone totally basic.”
She surprised him with humor. “If I don’t have to dig a hole, it’s not totally basic. Especially if we have liners.”
God, that woman could both surprise him and make him smile. A great combination indeed.
Chapter 11
Don radioed that he wouldn’t be coming back out that day. The two of them sat in the shuttered cabin, listening to the rain drum, in darkness except for the oil lamps. The woodstove held the storm’s chill at bay.
Cozy, except that it felt like a bunker, Sky thought. That was her fault for wanting the shutters closed. All of a sudden she remembered what Craig had said about when he came home from the war and he couldn’t stand a closed door even in his own apartment.
“Craig? Are these shutters making you feel uneasy?”
“Not really. I can’t see much from the windows anyway. I’d have to patrol occasionally regardless.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
His gray gaze was steady, his eyes an exact match for the dark clouds outside. “I know. I’m fine. I’m luckier than most. I got past it.”
But she wondered. “You chose a career that keeps you in the middle of nowhere away from people most of the time.”
His eyes narrowed and his face seemed to tighten. “I like it.”
“I can see that. And you said you’d always been interested in forestry. But...what if they sent you to a busier place? Would you still like it as much?”
“I started in a busier place before I came here.” His tone grew a little edgy, almost defiant.
“Okay.”
He leaned across the table toward her. “What are you trying to say, Sky? That I’ve got a major hang-up?”
She felt herself blanch. “No. No, it never crossed my mind!”
“Then what’s crossing your mind?”
The truth was, he was right but she didn’t want to admit it. Only a few days ago she’d dissociated for no good reason for the first time in years. Renewed lack of trust in her own mind was leading her to question him, perhaps seeking reassurance that he, too, occasionally got bitten by the past. “I guess...well, you saw what happened to me. That hasn’t happened for years now. Maybe I just don’t want to feel so abnormal.”
His expression altered completely, speeding from astonishment to concern. “You’re not abnormal.”
“How can I tell that?”
“You have to believe that. You’ve been in a war, you came back and you actually managed to put a life together for yourself. Some guys can’t do that, yet they’re normal, too. Damn it, Sky, can anyone go to war and come back unchanged?”
She knew the answer to that, knew it all too well. Her work with vets had even taught her how bad it could get, and how lucky she was.
“I don’t blame you for being uneasy,” he went on. “You got caught unexpectedly by something that you thought was behind you. That chips at your trust in yourself. I get it. But look at the past few days and how much has been going on. You haven’t slipped away. In fact, you’ve stayed front and center. You’re okay.”
She remained mute, trying to accept his reasoning. The army had taught her a lot of confidence, but it was confidence in other things, things that didn’t often matter in civilian life. Overall, though, apart from Hector, she’d built a pretty decent life for herself. Day by day, Iraq slowly faded into memory. It almost never surged up fresh anymore.
“It’ll keep getting better,” he said. “Man, I put a Mossberg in your hands the other day and y
ou didn’t flash back. What makes you so unsure of yourself?”
Plenty, she thought. Hector had undermined more than her womanhood, she suspected.
“I guess,” he continued, “that some people might think I’m hiding out here. I don’t feel like it. I feel like I’m doing something really important, protecting this forest, this habitat, this environment for future generations. This place is teeming with life and I love it. I love watching the seasons change, watching plants grow, watching boulders tumble and streams rush. I love learning how things interact with each other, and how interdependent life really is. Being out here is almost a form of enlightenment for me. It’s a different kind of city, but every bit as important to our survival.”
“Maybe more so,” she agreed. With a sigh, she let go of the troubled feelings. “I love it here, too. More than once since I arrived I wished there was a way I could stay. There’s a connection of some kind here that I don’t get in all the hustle and bustle of a city. There’s even more time.”
“Time?”
“Time to just experience without racing on to the next thing on some to-do list. I must have spent a couple of hours sitting in that gorge, just soaking it in. I’d never do that at home.”
“Of course not. There’s always something that must be done.”
“Exactly.” She gave him a crooked smile. “And plenty of guilt if you don’t do it. I have a friend who says the best vacation she ever took was a cruise.”
“Really? That’s never appealed to me.”
“Me either. But she said that while she was out on that boat she was completely cut off from her everyday life. There was absolutely nothing she could do about anything at home. She couldn’t even get a phone call. She said it was the most free she’d felt in her life.”
“I know that feeling, except I’m tethered by a radio.”
“Electronic leashes. I work with a guy who says his cell phone is his electronic leash.”
He smiled. “Good description.”
“Anyway, I’m probably worrying about nothing.”
“Well, that’s the other side of being cut off like this. If worrying is your thing, you have plenty of extra time to do it.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you back to town?”
She shook her head. “Then I’d really worry. About what’s going on out here.”
“Rock and hard place.”
“Not really. I’d rather be here.”
“Things could get dicey.”
“Things are already dicey,” she argued. “Someone was watching the cabin. Someone followed me yesterday and went through my things. I realize I’m no expert, but none of this is striking me as innocent.” In fact, if they wanted to talk about worries, Buddy and his friends would be right at the top of her list.
“The ATF is coming,” he reminded her.
“Right. Like that’s going to prevent something from going critical. Like you’re not going to be in the middle of it.”
“You’re worried about me?”
“Why does that surprise you?”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s been a while since anyone worried about me. It’s a nice feeling.”
That spoke volumes to her, and she thought about what it might be like for him. His parents and one brother had abandoned the continent for distant shores. Life had taken all of that away from him just as it had from her, and then he’d chosen the kind of life that kept him mostly alone.
Oh, clearly his fellow rangers and his boss were friends, but from what she had seen they weren’t the kind of friends he’d be spending a whole lot of time with. So he was alone with his forest, which had a lot of advantages but didn’t provide the kind of companionship most people needed.
Of course, these were his choices. Maybe she ought to pay attention to them instead of sitting here trying to establish links with him. Instead of thinking about how much she wanted him to make love to her again.
Instead of realizing that she felt less alone with him than she did at home in Tampa with all her friends. Less alone than she had felt during her time with Hector.
Wow. That was heavy. Dangerous, too.
“Something wrong?” Craig asked. Damn his perceptiveness.
“I’m fine,” she answered, keeping her tone firm.
For a few minutes they sat in silence, the puzzle still scattered on the table in front of them. One corner of one tower had begun to rise, and they had most of the edge done. Their efforts had been casual. No pressure. No demands.
The day had brought enough pressure and demands. And to think that earlier they had both thought they were going to have a vacation day in the rainy woods. It hadn’t exactly worked out that way.
But when did anything ever go according to plan?
Craig stood up. “I need to feed us. I hope we have enough left since we didn’t go to town today. Unless you want to run in and have dinner or something.”
She thought of the long drive along the forest service roads in the rain, thought about returning to civilization and people, and shook her head. “If we can manage it, I’d rather stay here.”
She caught the hint of a smile from him. “Let me go see what we have left.”
They had plenty for tonight. Not all the ice in the chests had melted, and they yielded cold cuts and a small jar of mayonnaise. An unopened loaf of rye bread sat on the shelf. There were even a couple of tomatoes that were still firm.
Sky cleared one end of the table, remarking, “I suppose we ought to just put this puzzle away. It’s getting to the point where we have to keep laying out the pieces.”
“If you’ve had enough of it. I don’t mind having to straighten them out again.”
“Maybe we should have put it on the floor.”
“Where?” he asked humorously. He brought some paper plates over, too.
She lifted one. “Conservation?”
“Recycled paper. Easier to toss it on the fire than try to wash up, especially come winter. It’s also useful for starting a fire if someone gets stranded out here.”
“True.” She hadn’t thought of that, but if people came out here to ski or snowmobile in the winter, and got into trouble, the forest service cabins might be all that stood between them and death. “Do you keep the cabins locked over the winter?”
“Absolutely not. Toolshed, yes, cabin, no. Not this far out. If someone gets in trouble out here, they’re going to need every possible little edge.”
“Does it happen often?”
“Once in a while. That’s why it’s so important to check in with the office before you come out here. If someone doesn’t come back, we definitely need a starting point. Searching a few thousand square miles is no joke.”
By the time they finished eating and had cleaned up, it was still raining steadily. When Craig went out to check on Dusty, she followed. The woods had grown so dark with the clouds and approach of night they almost looked like a ragged black wall.
She thought Dusty gave them a look that spoke volumes as he stood beneath the overhang. “He’s sick of it,” she remarked.
“Can’t say I blame him. He likes to be moving. Mustangs will often cover fifty miles a day just grazing. He’s not much different. He must feel like a prisoner.”
Dusty watched almost indifferently as fresh feed was laid out. Craig spent a few minutes patting him and talking quietly to him, but as he turned away, something changed.
Dusty nickered, but not that one little friendly nicker. He did it repeatedly, bobbing his head and pawing at the ground.
“Bear?” Craig asked, looking at the horse. Sky immediately peered around them.
Dusty shook his head and emerged from beneath the overhang, trotting around the corral as if he was disturbed. Twice around, then he reached a point where he actually reared up and pawed the air.
“I’m getting my gun,” Craig said. Apparently he didn’t need to hear it again. “Come inside.”
“I can help.”
“I’m sure you could, unless it’s a bear. If it is, we don’t want to spook it. Nor do you know how to deal with one.”
“From what I hear there’s not a lot of dealing to be done.”
“Depends. Just do me a favor and stay inside. I don’t want it to escalate if this is a bear.”
Reluctantly she took up a post in the open cabin door. “I’m at least going to keep an eye out.”
“I can live with that. Grab a couple of pans. If you see us come running out of the trees, start banging them.”
She could do that. She grabbed the frying pan and the saucepan, then resumed her post. He left with his Mossberg and a strong flashlight.
She was surprised when Craig came around the corner from the corral riding Dusty bareback. She didn’t have a lot of experience with horses, but riding without a saddle or stirrups struck her as risky.
But she was glad he wasn’t going on foot. Dusty made him appear a lot bigger and might prove to be more help by far than she could be. If it was a bear.
She didn’t want to think it was a human threat. Although Dusty wouldn’t have responded to that, would he? He hadn’t reacted earlier.
Then she wondered why Craig was even checking it out. If it was a bear, wouldn’t it be wisest for them both to remain inside?
Dusty, she realized. He didn’t want the horse out there by himself if a bear was hunting. TV animal specials popped up in her head. Bears wouldn’t be hunting at this time of year. Didn’t that come later in the summer, after they’d fattened up on berries and stuff? But what if this were a grizzly? From what she understood about them, they didn’t need a whole lot of reason to kill. Maybe that was wrong. She cursed her lack of knowledge. All she knew for sure was that if some bear was hanging around it might well have cubs, and that was a big problem.
Minutes stretched by as her nerves grew more taut. Where had they gone? How could they see anything in this lousy light? Well, he had taken that flashlight, although she wondered how he was going to juggle everything. Riding bareback, no holster... Maybe he could control Dusty with his knees?
