“No big deal. I was out taking my walk before I went in service and saw the logs sitting there. Figured I could use the extra workout. I’m going to get fat sitting around up here in the tower all season if I’m not careful. Especially if your wife keeps sending up her fabulous cooking.”
He didn’t mention that having her husband use the ax made Mrs. Tiny nervous. (Her real name was Lisa, but nobody called her that.) Left to himself, Tiny would have chopped the entire stack anyway, and probably done just fine, but it hadn’t taken Sam long to do it. Anyway, the physical labor helped him sleep, a little.
“You said you were coming up here anyway? What for? I thought you said you weren’t going to play chess with me after that last time.”
Tiny snorted. “I swear you cheated. Checkmate in six moves. That was just plain rude. But no, I came by to bring you something. One of the guys who worked on the fire dropped it by, said the county warden told him that you had a soft spot for critters.”
He put the cardboard box down next to the chili and opened the top. Two huge yellow eyes blinked up at Sam, set in a round ball of fuzz with a gray beak in the middle.
A smile tugged at the scar tissue around the left side of his mouth. “That’s a baby great horned owl, isn’t it?” Sam asked softly, not wanting to spook the small bird. “It’s awfully young to be on its own. Where’s its mama?”
“Lost in the fire, they think,” Tiny said. “Leastwise they found this little guy on the ground under a tree, spotted some charred remnants of a nest, but not much else. Paul said you nursed a baby squirrel they found last season, thought you might want to try your hand at this one.”
“I don’t mind trying,” Sam said. And it was true. It gave him something to do with his downtime, and even if it was kind of silly, saving that squirrel had made him feel like he’d actually won a tiny battle with the fire. “But he belongs with a certified wildlife rehabilitator.”
Tiny rolled his eyes. “’Course he does. But our local rehabilitator is in the hospital for the next few months. Some kind of car accident, I think. So you might as well try your hand at keeping him alive, if you feel like taking him on. It’s either that or he can go back into the woods.”
Sam reached out one cautious finger and ran it over the soft feathers on the top of its head. “You know they eat things like mice, right? Did you bring some with you along with Mrs. Tiny’s chili?”
“Ha!” Tiny had a laugh like a tuba. “Are you kidding? We spend all our time trying to keep the mice out. I start fetching them in, my wife will kill me. You’re on your own there, fella. But I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He clouted Sam affectionately on the back and clomped his way back toward the door.
Sam looked down at his new companion. “I don’t suppose you are willing to try some of Mrs. Tiny’s chili instead, pal?”
The bird bobbed its head up and down, eeping repeatedly as if having a one-sided conversation only it could understand. Sam glanced out the window at the encroaching dusk. If he could jury-rig a couple of traps quickly enough, he could still get them set out before full dark. In the morning, maybe he could call Dennis on the cell phone and see if he could dig up something helpful in his storeroom and bring it with him on his next trip to the tower. Or maybe a pet store in town carried mice for people who had snakes. In the meanwhile, Sam would just have to see what he could come up with.
“You may have to settle for raw chicken,” he told the owl. “But I’ll do the best I can.”
* * *
SAM HAD A flashlight tucked into his back pocket, but it was still just light enough to see without it. He’d ridden the four-wheeler down to the main trail, but from there he hiked the rest of the way. Sam loved the forest at dusk when the nocturnal animals started to make their rounds and all of the people were gone, except a camper or two.
And one wandering painter, apparently.
He saw Bella before she saw him, and took a moment to soak in the glorious sight. Her red hair was carelessly pulled back into a ponytail, a few errant waves escaping to curl around her heart-shaped face. She wore what looked like a man’s blue work shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of worn jeans. Sam had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. There was just something about the woman, a kind of a glow he couldn’t explain. Not that he was interested, of course. Just . . . intrigued.
Tugging the brim of his cap as far down as it would go, Sam cleared his throat. “Evening,” he said. He hoped he didn’t startle her too badly.
Bella turned around with a bright smile, not seeming at all alarmed by his presence. “Hi, there. Sam, isn’t it? We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
He ducked his head, turning a little to hide the damaged side of his face. His slightly too-long hair swung forward, as it was supposed to, covering a little bit more. “I don’t know,” he said. “It could be worse. At least you’re not a bear.”
“Maybe I’m a bear in disguise,” she said lightly. “You never know in the forest. Appearances can be deceiving.”
Sam chuckled. “You sound like my grandmother. She used to read me fairy tales when I was a kid. She especially liked the ones with witches in them; even predicted I’d meet one someday.”
“Really? Your grandmother predicted you’d meet a witch?” Bella raised an eyebrow. “And did she think that was going to be a good thing or a bad thing?”
“You know, she never said. But since most of the stories she told me involved witches that ate small children or turned people into things, probably not so good.” He thought about it for a minute. “Although I’d still kind of like to find out for myself.”
Bella made a small choking noise. He thought she was probably trying not to laugh at him. He didn’t blame her. She must think he was an idiot. Talking to women these days made him uncomfortable, and he tended to babble.
“So, you believe in witches?” she asked. Her green eyes gleamed at him in the soft evening light.
He shrugged. “In the forest, almost anything seems possible. At least to me.”
“Oh, to me too,” Bella agreed. “Forests are definitely magical places.”
Sam took a few steps closer. He could tell when she saw the scars, because her eyes widened briefly. But she didn’t seem all that shocked and didn’t ask him about them, which he appreciated. For a moment, it was almost as though they were two normal people, chatting amidst the trees. He knew it was an illusion, but it was one he treasured just the same.
“It’s a little late to be wandering around,” he said. “There really are bears in the woods, and someone saw some mountain lion tracks the other day. You should probably be heading back to your camper.”
“It’s a caravan, actually. Kind of like a hut with legs, only the legs are wheels,” she said. “And I was more or less wandering in that direction. I was out sketching and kind of lost track of time. Artists, you know.”
Sketching? Sam hadn’t noticed a sketchbook, but now she pulled one out from behind her back, so he must not have been looking very carefully. Probably too distracted by the rest of her, which he definitely found pretty damned distracting.
“Can I see?” he asked.
“Oh. Ah . . .” She hesitated. He thought maybe she was shy about showing her work, especially to some random guy she kept bumping into in the middle of the woods. But finally she shrugged and handed it over.
He had to tip it sideways to catch the fading light, but then he was genuinely impressed by what he saw. There were charcoal, ink, and pencil sketches of all sorts of wildlife; a chipmunk standing on its hind legs holding a nut, a marmot on the ridge, even a deer with two fawns who looked like they were posing. Page after page of chickadees, nuthatches, flickers, and bluebirds. There were also pictures of interesting trees covered with moss or mushrooms.
These were the same things that fascinated him, the textures and shapes and life of the woods all caught
on paper. Then he turned a page and saw why she’d hesitated. He saw himself, that first time they’d met. An idealized version, since Sam knew he’d never looked that good, even before things went to hell, but recognizably him. It gave him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, looking at the sketch she’d done based on his right side, which was all he’d let her see, and he shut the notebook and handed it back to her.
“Nice,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “I like the one of the deer.”
“That was a lovely morning, meeting up with Mona and her girls,” Bella said. Her hand brushed his as she took the notebook, and a tingle ran up his arm.
“You call the doe Mona?” Sam said, startled out of his self-consciousness for a moment.
“Well sure,” Bella said. “What else would I call her? That’s her name.”
Sure it was. And no doubt the deer had told her so. All their conversations seemed a little odd, and Sam was pretty sure she was having a laugh at his expense. He almost didn’t care.
* * *
BELLA COULD HAVE kicked herself. Twice. First she’d forgotten to bring the sketchbook with her while she went out searching for any trace of the Riders, and she’d had to conjure it magically out of the caravan and hope that Sam didn’t realize she hadn’t had it all along. And then she made that stupid comment about the doe’s name. She clearly spent way too much time hanging out with a dragon-cat and not enough with regular people. She was out of the habit of normal conversation. The poor guy was going to think she was a nutball. Which was too bad, because she still thought he was the best-looking man she’d ever met. And he seemed funny and nice too. A triple threat to a woman who was interested. Which she wasn’t, alas.
The scars had startled her for a moment, since she hadn’t noticed them the first time they’d met. Then she’d realized that he purposely kept his head turned slightly to the left most of the time, probably so they wouldn’t be so obvious. She recognized them as burn scars—she’d know better than most what those looked like—but it seemed rude to ask. Besides, to her mind they didn’t make him any less handsome. Just more interesting.
She’d never understood Humans’ obsession with perfection and normality. Of course, she’d spent a lot of her formative years wandering around the Otherworld with her mentor Baba, where normal came in more shades and sizes than most Humans could imagine, so she supposed her view was a little different than most.
“So, you know why I’m in the forest at this hour. What’s your excuse?” she asked. “I mean, other than hunting for witches.” She snickered, thinking how amazed he’d be—or maybe appalled—to discover he was standing and talking to one right now.
He held up what looked like a pile of twigs tied together with twine. “Believe it or not, I’m trying to set traps to catch mice.”
Bella blinked. In her experience, most people didn’t go looking for mice on purpose, although the ones she’d met had always seemed quite pleasant. “Is this some kind of strange Wyoming hobby I haven’t heard about, or are you just getting lonely up in that fire tower?”
A tiny smile hovered at the corner of his mouth. “Neither. I’m trying to take care of a little owlet some of the firefighters found today. His nest burned, along with his mama, and the local wildlife rehabilitator is out of commission. So I’m filling in until they can find someone with more experience. The mice are for his supper, if I can catch any.”
“Ah,” she said. Damn. Good-looking, funny, and really nice. It figured. Too bad he was Human. Off-limits. Not for all Baba Yagas, necessarily, but definitely for her. Especially since it seemed like she was going to run into him every time she went out searching for the Riders. She couldn’t afford to let some guy distract her, no matter how appealing he was.
“Owls go through a lot of mice in a day,” she said. “Even small owls. You’re going to have a hard time catching enough, even with that, um, interesting contraption.”
“Hey!” Sam said with mock indignation. “I worked for at least fifteen minutes on these things, and I’ve got them scattered within a mile’s radius of the tower. I even used my best stinky cheese to bait them.”
Bella bit her lip. Did he even have any idea of how adorable he was? She was willing to bet he didn’t. Of course, she could magically lure some mice into his cages, but she didn’t think she needed to. Not when she had the ultimate secret weapon.
“I’ve got something even better than stinky cheese,” she said. “Come on back to the caravan with me and I’ll show you.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “But only so I can protect you from bears, not because I don’t have faith in my ingenious traps.”
“Fair enough,” Bella said, hooking her arm through his. “Protect away. I’m feeling safer already.”
SEVEN
THEY WALKED A ways in companionable silence, and then Bella said, “So, you said there was another fire? I didn’t see any smoke.”
Sam’s mouth turned down, and he pulled his arm away from hers, although she didn’t think he did it consciously. “It was off to the south. About thirty miles away. You might have caught a whiff or two, but otherwise it was far enough away not to affect this area. Took them two days, but they got it under control this afternoon. Nobody got hurt.”
There seemed to be a special emphasis on that last statement. She wondered if it had anything to do with his burns, but decided not to ask. She got the feeling that any mention of fire made him defensive, which she thought was kind of strange for a guy who lived in a fire tower, but what the hell did she know about Human norms?
“That’s good,” she said. “So did you spot it from the tower?”
He nodded.
“That’s cool. It must be a great job, staying up in that fire tower for months at a time, helping to keep the area safe.”
Sam gave her a funny look. “Most people’s first response is to ask if it gets lonely.”
Bella laughed. “I know what you mean. People say the same thing about me traveling around in the caravan. They obviously don’t realize how restful it is to be away from people.” She waved an arm around to indicate the trees around them. “Besides, you get to protect all this. That’s fabulous.”
“It is,” he said. “But it’s not like being on the ground fighting fires.”
Bella suppressed a sigh. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing romantic about fighting fire. It wasn’t her friend, but it wasn’t her enemy either. At least not most of the time.
“I suppose not,” she said. “Well, here we are.” The lights of the caravan were warm and welcoming in the encroaching darkness. A shadow detached itself from the bulk of the caravan and materialized into a ridiculously large feline with a long ruff around his neck.
“You remember Koshka, right?” she said, leaning down to pat her companion on his wide head.
“Who could forget such a magnificent cat?” Sam asked, causing Koshka to purr and wrap himself around Sam’s ankles.
Bella rolled her eyes. “Yes, he is magnificent, isn’t he?” More so in dragon form, but the less said about that the better. “He’s also the solution to your mouse problem.”
Sam looked confused. “What do you mean? I admit, cats are great at catching mice, but it isn’t as though you can ask him to go fetch you one and he’ll do it.”
She smirked. “Want to bet?” Humans. It was almost too easy. “How about you cook me dinner if you lose?”
“Sure,” Sam said, probably thinking she was kidding. “But I warn you, my cooking is elemental at best.”
“No problem,” Bella said. “I’m all about the elements.” She turned to Koshka and said, “Okay, stop sucking up to our guest. Yes, you’re gorgeous and we all know it. Can you make yourself useful and go catch me a few mice?”
“Mice?” Koshka huffed indignantly. “I’m a damned dragon! I don’t fetch mice.” Of course, to Sam it would just sound like a peeved meow.
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Bella bit back a giggle as she bent down to whisper in one tufted ear. “I know. I know. But Sam is taking care of a baby owl and he needs mice to feed it. He put together a pathetic attempt at a trap, but he’s never going to be able to catch nearly enough to feed a youngster that way. I thought maybe you’d be willing to help out.”
“It would be a lot easier if I just ate the owlet,” Koshka suggested. But after a glance at the bundle of twigs in Sam’s hand, he shook his head from side to side and slunk off into the woods.
Bella turned to Sam, who was looking a bit bemused. “Would you like a beer or a cup of tea while we wait?”
“Uh, sure,” he said. “A beer would be great. And I love the way it seems like you and the cat are actually having a conversation, but you don’t really expect him to come back with a mouse, do you?”
She fetched a couple of beers, and they sat down together on the steps of the caravan. “I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we? But just for the record, I like my meat rare and my potatoes crispy.”
The two of them sat side by side, chatting about Sam’s days in the fire tower and Bella’s travels (albeit with some of the good bits left out). She had a moment to wonder at how comfortable it all seemed before a gray-brown form misted out of the forest and deposited a pile of mice at their feet. Four, she thought, or maybe five. It would at least keep the little owlet alive until Koshka could find more. Sam’s eyes were so big, she thought they might fall out of his face.
“What the hell?”
“You needed mice. You’ve got mice. And also, you owe me dinner.” She went inside and got a small basket to put the mice in, and Koshka very neatly picked each one up and deposited it inside. Bella handed Sam the basket with a grin. “Ta-da!”
Sam looked from her to Koshka and back again, then down at the basket. “That is either the best-trained cat on the planet, or the guys are playing a really complicated practical joke on me.”
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