by Karen Ball
His words struck home, but she refused to let him see the anxiety they had stirred within her. The image of her beautiful friend in pain, being mistreated, was almost more than she could bear. Anger joined with fear within her, and she gave willing vent to it.
“I have a better idea—” the words all but dripped sugar—“Why don’t you let me help you”—a quick, hopeful light sparked in his eyes—“get off my ranch?” She snapped her fingers at Sasha, who looked suddenly alert. “Sasha, protect!”
The husky hesitated, looking from Connor to her mistress as though to say, “You’re kidding, right?”
Taylor repeated the command. “Sasha! Protect!”
Galvanized by the conviction in her mistress’s voice, Sasha moved toward Connor, her usually benevolent features disappearing into a warning snarl.
Startled, Connor took several steps backward. “What are—”
Taylor smiled smugly. “Say hello to a well-trained dog.” She moved to stand next to Sasha, who continued a low growl. Taylor’s tone hardened. “Now get off my ranch.”
Connor backed out of the doorway cautiously, moved to his Jeep, and slid inside.
“Sasha, release,” Taylor murmured as Connor turned to look at her one more time before driving away. The husky immediately became her affable self and padded over to sit beside her mistress, looking up at her with curious eyes.
“Good girl, Sasha,” Taylor said in a tear-choked voice. “You’re a good girl.” She stared after the Jeep, watching it grow smaller in the distance. “And you’re extremely lucky that you’re a dog and not a human.” She turned to head for the house. “Believe me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
TWENTY-ONE
THURSDAY NIGHT, CONNOR STOOD AT THE FRONT OF THE high school auditorium, watching the townspeople come in and take their seats. His heart warmed when he saw Taylor and her family slip into seats at the back of the room. Even the sight of Gavin sliding into the chair next to Taylor didn’t bother him.
Whatever they thought of him, he considered them all friends. It helped to know he wasn’t on his own here.
The turnout was decent. Thirty or forty people filled the chairs set up before him. Now if he could just get through the night without somebody shooting him.
The head of the town council introduced him, and he stepped up to the podium. “Thank you for coming tonight. I hope you all feel free to take part. This is an open forum, and all questions or comments are welcome.”
“Even ‘Go home, Scumball’?” one man asked, and laughter traveled around the room.
Connor let his smile show them he wasn’t put off. “If it gets the ball rolling, sure.”
“C’mon, Frank. Give the man a chance.”
Connor glanced at the middle-aged man who had spoken up, hoping his gratitude showed.
The man met Connor’s gaze. “Name’s Amos Winkler, and I for one am interested in what you have to tell us, Mr. Alexander.”
An older gentleman seated at the back of the room stood, his hat in his hands. “I have a question.”
Connor relaxed his stance. Here we go … “Yes, sir?”
“I just want to know why this all matters so much to you people? This isn’t your land. Or your livestock. You talk about ‘reintroduction’ and ‘natural regulation,’ but you keep coming out here and sticking your nose in where it ain’t welcome.” Murmurs of agreement sounded around the room. “Why can’t you just leave us and the wolves be? Whatever comes of this will be plenty natural.”
Another man jumped up. “I agree with Booth. I mean, what you people want to do is crazy, plain and simple! Bringing wolves into populated areas makes as much sense as bringing back smallpox! There just isn’t enough natural prey around here to support bringing wolves back. You all talk about the ‘wild ungulate populations’ like they’re unlimited. But those deer and elk have been replaced by livestock. Our livestock. Our livelihood! It’s hard enough to make a living out here, without having to fight some crafty, four-footed killing machine that’s got the government on its side! There just isn’t any room here for wolves.”
“Here! Here!”s and “Amen!”s rang out, and Connor pursed his lips. “I understand your concerns, but I admit I’m a bit confused.”
“You’re a lot confused, son!”
Connor grinned along with the others. “What I mean is, why do you think the ungulate populations are too small to support natural predators like wolves? When’s the last time you went through Yellowstone in late February? There are records of more than twenty thousand elk and eight hundred bison crowding the winter range in the northern part of the park.”
“That’s Yellowstone!”
“True enough, but if wolves are in this area, Yellowstone will be a part of their hunting range. And there are healthy herds of ungulates around here as well. What’s more, unless the wolves learn to recognize livestock as prey, they generally don’t seem to know what to do with them. Studies have shown they actually prefer their natural prey.”
“What you’re saying makes sense,” Amos Winkler said. “But I think what people here really want to know is, what will happen if the wolves do kill our animals?”
Connor nodded. “That’s a fair question. The Wolf Compensation Fund has been set up for a number of years now. It’s been a dependable source of money for reimbursing ranchers who lose livestock to predation. If a wolf is found to be a repeated problem, the state wildlife managers will do their best to capture and move it.”
“And if they can’t?” Amos’s expression was expectant.
Connor gave him the truth. “Then the wolf would be destroyed. But only as a last resort, and only when it’s been proven that it’s a repeat offender.”
“What about our kids?” a woman up front demanded. “There are a lot of remote school bus stops out here. I don’t know about you, but I’m not inclined to risk my little girl’s life just so some wolf can survive.”
“I’d be worried, too, if wolves were known to attack people. But it’s a fact that, in all of North America, there’s never been a verified case of a wild wolf attacking a person.”
Scattered boos and hisses sounded, and a wave of grumbling started.
“How’s a man s’posed to make a verified report if he’s been eaten by wolves?”
“Not willing to have my kid be the first!”
“Bunch of bureaucratic gobbledygook!”
Connor took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to lose them entirely. Just then, a tall, tanned man stood up in the center of the room. He scanned the people seated around him with concerned eyes.
“Listen to what you’re saying. We aren’t talking about government reintroduction programs here. These wolves have come here on their own. They’ve returned to the land they lived on long before you or I or any of our ancestors came here.” He looked from one face to another. “You are my neighbors. I have known many of you since we were children. But these animals are my neighbors, too. I haven’t seen them; they’re too wise to come out. But I’ve seen their tracks, heard their howls. They’re here already. And we have to learn how to survive together.”
A young man jumped out of his seat. “I’ll tell you how we’ll survive! I’ll shoot every one of those killers I can. Then we’ll survive. And no environmentalist”—the kid made it sound like a dirty word—“is gonna tell me otherwise.”
Another man in his late twenties spoke up. “I more than heard ’em. I seen ’em.”
Everyone started speaking at once, shooting questions. The man stood and turned to glare at Taylor and her family. “I seen one, anyway. A big one. And he was on Galloway Glen.”
Taylor jumped to her feet, her eyes blazing. Connor restrained a smile. He knew that combative look well.
“What are you saying, Roy?”
“I’m saying the wolves are on your land, Taylor. And you know it.”
“So you trespassed? Came onto my land without asking permission?”
> A dull red swath of color started to creep up the man’s throat and into his face. “Well, I was tracking—”
“So you did.” Taylor’s voice was positively frigid. “And you think that’s right?”
“As right as protecting them killers!” Several others voiced agreement.
“Taylor’s got a point, Roy.” Amos Winkler’s tone was harder than Connor had heard it all night. “You had no right to trespass.”
“Come on, Amos,” the man called Booth spoke up again. “You know as well as I do wolves don’t belong here. Even Taylor’s grandfather knew it. He killed a mess of ’em in his day. My daddy told me he was one of the best wolf hunters in the region.”
Gavin broke in then, and Connor was surprised at his words. “I have to agree with Booth, Taylor. My uncle has told me stories about your grandfather and all the wolves he brought in. He felt the wolves were a threat. As these men do.”
“Do you think that too?” she demanded.
Gavin tilted his head. “From what I’ve heard here, they’ve turned your neighbors against you. There seems to be some threat in that.”
“I would like to say something, please.”
The quiet request came from Taylor’s mother. Connor inclined his head. “Go ahead, Mrs. Camus.”
Taylor’s parents both rose and walked to the front of the room to stand beside Connor. Donelle laid a gentle hand on his arm, and he was struck by the compassion in her eyes.
“May we?” She indicated the podium.
He stepped aside. “Of course.”
The two moved to stand behind the podium, and Connor noticed the way Taylor’s father stood next to his wife. Though he didn’t touch her, he was clearly a protective presence. That’s one team I’d hate to mess with.
“You’re partially right, Booth.” She nodded at the man. “But what many of you seem to be forgetting is that my father changed his mind on the day he met a wolf. A wolf he had killed.”
“The only kind of wolf to meet!” a woman asserted, then sank in her chair at the quelling looks she received from several of those around her.
Donelle regarded her with compassion. “I certainly understand your feelings, Hazel. I’ve heard them expressed since I was a child. But I can’t help but wonder if you would be less sure of that if you saw what my father did. If you ever met one of these creatures instead of basing your opinions on stories told from fright rather than knowledge.” She moved her eyes from face to face before her. “Yes, my father hated wolves, until he actually encountered one alive. What he saw in the creature’s eyes was powerful enough to change his mind. And his heart. He saw he was wrong. As many of us are wrong.”
“What do you think, Reverend?”
Taylor’s father tilted his head, his eyes thoughtful. “I think this is an issue that doesn’t have any easy answers.” Agreement sounded throughout the audience. “Like Donelle, I’ve heard the stories and the concerns for most of my life, but there’s something else that troubles me.” He smiled. “The last thing I want to do here is preach a sermon—”
“Here, here!” Laughter rippled through the room in response to the outburst.
Holden’s smile deepened, but his eyes were somber. “Still, I can’t get away from what I see in God’s Word. God made man ruler over all the earth, tells us in Psalms that we’re rulers over even the beasts of the field.”
“So if we want to rid ourselves of these beasts, it’s our right!” Roy’s smile was smug.
“That’s not what the reverend is saying, Roy.”
“No … it’s not—” Holden looked around the room—“We are given dominion over the earth, but what we aren’t given is ownership. Look at it this way: God has loaned us his world. He put everything in it for our use, to help us survive and thrive. But as often as he tells us we’re in charge, he also tells us we have to rule wisely, with kindness and truth.”
“Are you tellin’ me God cares how we treat a mangy wolf?” It was the woman who’d been shushed by the crowd.
“I’m telling you we’re given strict instructions on not being abusive to animals. And we’re all very fond of reminding each other that God’s eye is on the sparrow, that he watches over and cares for even the smallest of his creatures. Why, then, would he not be interested in a wolf? Or a cougar? Or any animal?”
“So if one of these killers comes after my livestock or my family, I should just step aside and let it do what it wants?”
“Of course not. We’re told to subdue the earth, to use it well and wisely. But there’s a huge gap between subduing and abusing. If a wolf is killing livestock, it has to be stopped. Certainly if it attacks a human, it must be destroyed. But we will be held accountable to the Creator for the way we treat his world. And nowhere does he condone senseless destruction. Or torture.”
Connor was watching the reactions in the crowd with interest. Several faces were tinged with red, though whether from embarrassment or anger he wasn’t sure. Others were listening intently, even nodding in agreement.
Holden’s advocate stood again. “I think the reverend’s hit the nail on the head, folks. I don’t know about you, but I want to be sure when I stand before the good Lord that I can stand tall”—his face creased into a grin—“well, as tall as any sinner can stand before God.” He shook his head, chuckling. “But I don’t want to have to answer to the charge of cruelty or abuse. Not to humans nor to animals.”
“Ruling the earth is a two-edged sword,” Donelle added. “We are to use and subdue it, but we are also called to care for it, to keep it well for its true Owner. We’re not suggesting that you put yourselves or your families, or even your livestock, at risk. But I do think it is simple wisdom to act out of knowledge, not out of fear. How many of you have ever encountered a wolf? Ever seen one up close or studied their behavior?” No one answered. “Then how can we be so certain we know the truth?”
Connor watched her with deepening admiration. She had them all listening. They might not believe her, but at least they were listening.
Booth crossed his arms. “Well, I’m sure not going to trust some bleeding-heart environmentalist for the truth!”
“ ’Course not!” Amos gave him a disgusted look. “But you know as well as the rest of us, Booth, that there are other sources. Scientists, biologists, all kinds of folks have studied wolves and their interactions with livestock and with humans. I know this ain’t a simple issue, not by a long shot. And I sure ain’t convinced the environmentalists or wildlife managers have all the answers. But we gotta start working together, or we’re all going to come out losers. You can count on it. And so will our kids.”
“At least try to get the facts before you start shooting,” Donelle urged. “Let Mr. Alexander and his people tell us what they know. At least your decisions will be based on some reality, not on myth.”
She looked at her husband, and he held up his hands. “I suppose it’s time to pass the offering plates.” Laughter followed the two of them as they returned to their seats.
Connor stepped back to the podium, glancing at Taylor as he did so. Pride glowed in her eyes as she watched her parents. Then he looked out over the crowd. “Our time is about up,” he said. “Any other comments or questions?”
“I got one,” a teenage boy remarked, jumping to his feet. “What’s the best kind of ammo to use on these critters?”
Some snorts of laughter met this comment, but Connor was relieved to see that just as many people scolded the boy and told him to sit down. Maybe they were making some progress after all.
“Well, that was … interesting.”
Taylor glanced at her father and grimaced. “I suppose so. I’m always surprised, though, at how quick people are to be afraid and how slow they are to listen to the facts. But the one who really surprised me was Gavin.”
Her father slipped his arm around her mother’s shoulders. “Facts can be skewed, Taylor. We all know that. And Gavin cares about you a great deal. It’s not that unusual that he would be conce
rned when he sees people who’ve known you all your life turning on you. The biggest issue these people have is trusting.” His eyes rested on her face. “Now that’s something I think you might be able to relate to.”
She lowered her eyes. He was right. The facts hadn’t made a lot of difference for her when Connor came to the ranch two days ago.
“Nice bit of preaching, Reverend,” a voice spoke from behind them. They turned to see Booth standing there, flanked by four other ranchers. “But it won’t make a hill o’ beans worth of difference. Wolves are wolves, and there’s no room for them around us.” His eyes came to rest on Taylor. “I’m disappointed in you, Taylor. I thought you were one of us, that you would understand what’s really important.”
Anger flared in her, and she opened her mouth to blast the man, but her father’s gentle hand on her arm stilled the caustic response she had ready. She turned to him, and he shook his head.
“A soft answer …” she could almost hear him say.
She drew a steadying breath and turned back to the burly rancher. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Booth. And I hope you believe I have no desire to hurt or anger you. But Galloway Glen is my ranch. If I want to let the wolves come on it, I have as much right as you do to keep them off of yours.” She met his steely stare without flinching. “I won’t tell you and your friends how to run your ranches”—her gaze hardened—“and I won’t come onto your land without permission.” Her eyes swept the circle of men, noting how several of them dropped their gazes. “I’d appreciate the same courtesy.”
“Your wolves set one paw near my land and they’re rugs.” At the muttered comment, Taylor had to swallow the white-hot rage that rose within her. “You can do whatever you want on your own land.” She stepped closer to him, facing him down. “But not on mine.” Her eyes pinned him, and he had the grace to look ashamed. “Not on Galloway Glen. I’d like your word on that, Henry.”
The man’s lips thinned, but he gave a curt nod. “I won’t trespass. I give my word.”