by Erin Marsh
“Hey,” Lacey protested. “I need that, and I prefer my hair free of saliva.”
Lulubelle shifted in Clay’s direction and gazed at him mournfully. Despite her massive size, she reminded him of a heifer. And he’d always been partial to herd animals despite being a loner himself.
“Sorry, Lulubelle, I don’t have anything either. I’ll try to bring one the next time I drop Zach off.”
Lulubelle brayed. At the sound, a little head poked out from a lean-to structure that provided shade for the animals. A smaller, knobby-legged camel picked its way over to the fence. At the sight of Lulubelle’s gangly offspring, amusement bubbled up in Clay. He couldn’t help it. The juvenile just radiated a goofy cheerfulness.
“And who’s this little guy?” Clay asked.
“Girl,” Lacey corrected. “Her name is Savannah, and she was born about a year ago.”
The teenage calf bounced over, her brown eyes eager. Without hesitation, she thrust her nose over the fence, trying to reach their pockets for food. Just then, a larger camel swaggered out of the partial shed. He rumbled a greeting as he lumbered in their direction.
“And last but not least is Hank. He’s Savannah’s father and Lulubelle’s soul mate.”
“I don’t think camels have soul mates,” Clay said.
Hank chose that moment to snort in Clay’s hair. Lacey patted the male on his neck. “You tell him, Hank.”
Clay retreated a step. Gingerly, he touched the top of his head. Yup. It was wet. He should’ve worn his hat, although then the camel might have eaten it…or sneezed on it too. His hair was at least easier to wash than his grandfather’s Stetson. “All right, you guys win. So why are Hank and Lulubelle each other’s destiny?”
Lacey reached over and stroked the female. “The poor girl was lonely. The llamas were bullying her—”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.” Lacey used her thumb to point to the herd of llamas chewing hay on the other half of the corral. “They are very hierarchal, and when one of them had a cria—that’s a baby llama—they started picking on Lulubelle, who lived with them at the time.”
“Which caused her to show signs of depression from the isolation?” Clay guessed. The story was actually starting to make sense. One of his cows wouldn’t react too well if the entire herd ostracized her.
“Exactly. Bowie and his now wife organized a fundraiser to help the zoo get the money to find her a partner. Hence Hank here. The rest is history.”
“Ah,” Clay said.
“Isn’t camel romance the best?”
“If you say so,” Clay said dryly, but he couldn’t prevent his amusement.
“Admit it. You think it’s kind of sweet.” Lacey lightly bumped him with her shoulder.
“Okay. Maybe a little.”
They shared a smile then, and it felt good…maybe too good. Devils didn’t date town darlings…at least not squeaky-clean ones like Lacey Montgomery.
* * *
“And here are three of my favorite zoo residents,” Lacey told Clay as they approached the next enclosure. “Larry, Curly, and Moe.”
Clay rested his elbows against the outer fence rail as he gazed into the exhibit. Lacey watched as he scanned the concrete waterslides and large pool. When his eyes lit on the furry inhabitants, she was surprised at the fond amusement that spread over his handsome features.
“River otters.”
“Yep,” Lacey said as Curly scurried up a slope. His long body sashayed back and forth as he maneuvered over the artificial rocks. When he reached the top, he slipped into the water and shot down the slide headfirst. Reaching the pool below, he transformed into a dark-brown torpedo zipping through the water. As soon as he neared a wall, he curled into a ball and flipped around as perfectly as an Olympic gold medalist. Slowing his pace, he stuck his little brown head above the water to watch her and Clay as he slowly paddled in their direction.
“I’ve spotted otters a few times playing in the large creek that runs through the ranch,” Clay said. “One day, I spent half an hour watching them.”
Now that surprised Lacey. Clay must have felt her shock, because one side of his mouth lifted wryly, even though he hadn’t turned his attention from Curly. “I don’t hate animals, you know. They’re how I make my living.”
“I never doubted that you cared for your herd.”
“Sure you did,” Clay said, his voice surprisingly matter-of-fact without any trace of bite. “Folks think my cows and steers are just numbers in a column for me and that my horses are simply a status symbol.”
An uncomfortable feeling snaked through Lacey. She prided herself on her open-mindedness, but she wondered if she might have judged Clay too perfunctorily. They’d been adversaries for almost half a decade, but she really knew nothing about the man except for what she’d learned from town gossip.
“What are they to you?”
The question appeared to surprise Clay. He turned from watching Curly dive down into the pool. His blue eyes had darkened, giving him an almost studious appearance. He looked like an Ivy League professor instead of a frat boy.
“Responsibility. A connection…to the land…to my past…to my heritage. They’re the lifeblood of the ranch.”
A grudging respect slipped through Lacey. “Careful or I might think you buy into the whole romantic cowboy mythos.”
“Who says I don’t?”
Curly distracted Lacey from responding. Apparently bored with swimming, he emerged from the water. Standing on the bank, he shook himself off, sending droplets of water everywhere. After two more shakes for good measure, he bounded over to where his brothers were sunning themselves on a rock. Disregarding their slumber, he pounced. His siblings didn’t seem to mind their sleep being disturbed. Instead of snarling or hissing at Curly, the other two immediately began to play. The trio formed a furry ball of wiggling tails and flailing short legs.
“This is why I ended up staring at the otters during my lunch break instead of reading my book.”
Okay. That image also jarred with her internal one of Clay. She imagined him scarfing down a sandwich while staring at a computer or enjoying a meal with potential commercial buyers at the nearest country club.
“I do ride my land. My dad was the Wall Street banker, not me.”
Lacey felt her cheeks grow pink as she realized how close he’d come to echoing her thoughts. But his insight shouldn’t have startled her. After all, the town made it very clear how they viewed him, and Clay—for all his failings, true or imagined—appeared to be an intelligent man.
“Do you often read by the creek?”
“If I can,” Clay said. “I make an effort to carve myself a little time at least once a week in the summer months. It keeps me balanced.”
A glimpse of Clay stretched out on a rock near the water popped into Lacey’s mind. He even wore cowboy boots and a Stetson. Surprisingly, this time, the idea didn’t feel odd but right…maybe too right. She might…just might have pictured herself there too. In a sundress. Which didn’t make any sense. She was a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of gal, and if she were going to put effort into dressing up, it wouldn’t be for a picnic with Clay. Even if it would be awfully easy for him to slip one of the spaghetti straps off her shoulder as he leaned forward to kiss her…
A splash from the otters jerked Lacey from her all-too-inappropriate fantasy. The return to reality was so sudden, it felt like the water had actually doused her. Before she could think better, she emitted a tiny gasp. Clay shot her an odd look, but he luckily continued talking.
“And that’s when I saw the trumpeter swans.”
“Trumpeter swans!” Lacey said a tad too enthusiastically, even for her.
“Uh, yeah.” Clay’s gaze sharpened as he studied her. “Are you getting dizzy again?”
“Dizzy?” The question came out as a squeak.
“Fr
om your head injury.”
Oh, yeah, that light-headedness. Lacey nodded. Her current foggy state explained a lot, including the wayward image of Clay and her on the riverbank, his lips descending…
“Are you sure they weren’t tundra swans?” Lacey asked in a rush. “They’re much more common. Trumpeters are still pretty rare in this area.”
“Positive. Some tundra swans were also on the water, so I was able to see the differences.”
“They’re pretty hard to tell apart,” Lacey said.
“Not when you have a telephoto zoom lens and you get pictures for comparison.”
“You take wildlife photography?”
Clay lifted his shoulders and dropped them, the motion casual…almost too much so. It struck Lacey that her tone had bothered him—not irritated but bothered. Did Clay Stevens actually care about her opinion of him? He always seemed so impervious, but then again, they’d never spoken outside of arguing about wolves.
“I dabble in it,” Clay said. “I picked it up as a teen when I got bored on the ranch. My dad liked expensive gadgets, even if he never used them. It wasn’t hard to swipe a camera from my parents’ empty house near the ski resort.”
“Why didn’t you just ask to borrow it?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he rubbed his thumb over the rough wood of the railing. When he spoke, his voice sounded different…remote and shut off. “My relationship with my parents is complicated. There wasn’t a lot of trust between us, and they probably would have thought I’d either break it or pawn it.”
The faintest hint of desolation lurked in his voice, and a twinge of pain squeezed Lacey’s heart. If she’d known him better, she would have reached out and patted his arm. But they were only now on speaking terms, and she didn’t know if he’d appreciate any gesture of comfort.
“Oh,” she said instead, the word rather inadequate, but she didn’t have a better one. She’d always imagined him as a spoiled rich kid. And maybe he had been. But that didn’t mean he’d had it easy.
Her own parents had just scraped by. Only recently had the Prairie Dog Café started to bring in a nice profit. But she’d had a happy childhood…until her dad’s heart attack.
“Look at those three chase each other.” Clay pointed toward the otters. It was a clear attempt to maneuver the conversation away from him, and Lacey didn’t fight it. She didn’t want to get close to the man, didn’t want to learn about his past, didn’t want to feel a connection. She liked living alone. It hurt less.
The mustelids were romping in and out of the water. Sometimes Curly was in the lead, and sometimes Moe or Larry headed the pack. They moved with utter abandon and pure energy. People often compared their personalities to friendly, exuberant dogs, and Lacey could see why. Even adults like these three loved to play.
“They never stop, do they?” Lacey asked.
“I love how their hindquarters move.”
She laughed. “I know. They look like furry inchworms with their rumps in the air when they run fast.”
Larry shot into the pool, and his brothers dived after him. Curly climbed out first with Moe close behind. He pounced, and the two curved around each other, forming a momentary hoop as they spiraled together.
“I wish I had my camera,” Clay said.
“You could bring it next time when you drop Zach and me off,” Lacey offered. “I know Bowie won’t mind, especially if you post a couple pictures on the zoo’s website.”
“I might just do that,” Clay said. “Otters are certainly easier to capture on film here than on my ranch.”
“It’s a shame these guys aren’t still in the wild.”
Clay glanced over at her. “They weren’t born in captivity?”
“No,” Lacey said. “They’re actually from Rocky Ridge. A backpacker found them and thought their mother had abandoned them. Unfortunately, instead of telling a ranger about their location, he decided to gather them in his backpack and take them to the visitor’s center. They were so dehydrated from the journey, they needed serious medical intervention. It was either hand-rear them or euthanize them. I knew that Bowie had lost his otters to old age and had a great exhibit, so they came here.”
“They seem happy.”
Lacey nodded. “They do. Speaking of rescues, do you want to see the wolves?”
Clay grinned. “You’re not afraid I’ll put a curse on them?”
Lacey felt an unexpected smile drift over her lips. She never would’ve thought the two of them could joke when it came to wolves. She sobered and shook her head. “I want to thank you again for rescuing the pups and me.”
“The biggest thanks you could’ve given me is when you defended Zach, fought for him even,” Clay said. “I don’t think anyone has ever done that, except for me. Although he didn’t say much when we stopped by the second time, it meant a lot to him…and to me too.”
His tone softened on the last bit, and Lacey swore she heard a twinge of vulnerability not too different from his nephew’s. It dawned on her that he’d lived his entire adult life in a town that despised him and his family. She wondered for a moment why he hadn’t left, but the answer was surprisingly simple. The land. That was why they all stayed, even during the difficult times before Sagebrush had become a growing tourist destination. Perhaps he possessed more of his ancestors’ blood than she’d realized.
“What’s that?” Clay asked as they passed a rather spartan exhibit. Although the Sagebrush Zoo was relatively small, Bowie put a lot of detail and effort into each enclosure. Not only did the animals have plenty of room, but they could explore rock formations, vegetation, log structures, and water features. In contrast, this particular home had steep concrete walls, two shelters, and small enrichment toys.
“This would be the home of the honey badgers.”
“Sagebrush has honey badgers?” Clay asked. “The animal that doesn’t give a shit?”
“I take it you’ve watched the video,” Lacey said, mildly surprised he knew about the species. Most people mistook them for actual badgers. The long weasel-like mustelid actually came from Africa and had a reputation for its bad temper and ferocity.
“Hey, any creature that can take a cobra bite, pass out, and then wake up to eat the snake has my respect.”
“They’re incredibly smart too,” Lacey said. “Bowie has tried everything to keep the male and female from escaping, which is why their exhibit looks like it does. The honey badgers have even used mud to build escape ramps.”
Clay whistled. “And I thought it was tough to keep cows contained.”
Lacey laughed. “At least when the honey badgers escape, they don’t leave the zoo’s grounds. Sometimes you can catch a glimpse of Fluffy—that’s the male—but I’ve heard you only see the female, Honey, when she wants you to. At least that was until she had her kit. Little Scamp likes to make noise, and he’s still at the stage where he follows her everywhere. Bowie says it’s a lot easier to keep track of her now.”
“How long ago did you say you worked here, Ms. Encyclopedia?”
Lacey didn’t mind his gentle teasing. She knew she nerded out when it came to animals, but she didn’t care. “I keep up via their website and animal cams. Bowie and his wife, Katie, have been making an effort the past couple years to improve their outreach.”
“I heard she’s a PR whiz. I approached her about helping me with a Valhalla Beef campaign, but she turned me down. She said her schedule was full. I guess her new business is doing well.”
It was, but Lacey was pretty sure that wasn’t why her distant cousin had turned down the work. She wouldn’t have wanted to offend Lacey’s family by helping a Stevens. “I can put in a good word for you if you’re still interested.”
Clay’s eyes sharpened, the blue turning more crystalline as the green flecks faded into the background. “I’m surprised you’d want to do anything to pr
omote my business.”
“As long as you’re not trying to kill the wolf reintroduction program, I have no problem with Valhalla Beef or you.”
“Even after what my dad did to yours?” Clay asked.
He spoke the question gently, but it still sliced. It hurt…oh gosh, did it hurt, to talk about her father and brother or to even think of them. She should have expected Clay’s question. After all, their shared history hovered at the edges of any conversation between the two of them. But despite the specter of past tragedy, they’d never verbally acknowledged it. It had just hung there, festering.
“I don’t see your father standing in front of me,” Lacey said. “It’s just you.”
* * *
Clay glanced over at the woman cradling the squeaking wolf pup. Lacey was making cooing sounds, her voice high and soft. Affection radiated from her. It wasn’t meant for him, but he wanted to bask in it anyway.
I don’t see your father standing in front of me. It’s just you.
The words had sunk so deep they’d reached his very core. For that moment—that one brief moment—she hadn’t judged him. He didn’t know if anyone had ever done that before. Not even his parents. He’d been an inconvenience since his conception. Neither of them had planned for another child. His father had his perfect carbon copy in Greg, and his mother hadn’t wanted to deal with the effort of re-toning her body after his birth. Nannies and teachers all received prior warnings about his bad behavior. His grandfather had regarded him as the rebellious teen in need of reform. Even long after Clay had given up his wild ways, the old man had never completely trusted him. Clay had sensed that the lifelong cowboy had never stopped expecting him to get tired of the hard work and hightail it back to New York.
Something had changed between Lacey and him today. He’d watched her charm people time and time again. He’d thought himself immune. He was good at calling people out on their bullshit. But that was the thing. He no longer thought Lacey full of crap. Yeah, he still disagreed with her wolf introduction program, but he no longer found her sweetness an act. Lacey had a solid piece of goodness inside her that somehow hadn’t broken under the pressures of life. She was as rare as a red diamond and just as mesmerizing.