Tandy opened the door and clung to it while Wyatt shrugged into his jacket.
“Look, tell me to stop being nosy. But, I thought the world of your father. He treated me like a son. Stuff that worried him worried me. I’m sure you had good reason for not telling him if your marriage was in trouble.” Wyatt crossed the porch. “Thanks again for the terrific meal. Uh, would you rather I conveniently not find a kid’s book on wolves?” He hesitated at the steps and leveled an uneasy gaze on Tandy.
“A kid wolf book would be great. But, just to clarify, my marriage ended abruptly after Dad died. I truly appreciate all you did for him. I hope you don’t think I’m horrible for not coming home for his funeral. I tried to get leave, but the fighting in Afghanistan had heated up and nonessential flights from our base were grounded without exception. I so regret that.” She smudged away an errant tear. “You’d left by the time I finally managed to make it home.”
Wyatt shook his head. “I didn’t think you were horrible. Fortunately your dad had prearranged his funeral. The funeral home in town carried out his wishes for a private service. Manny and I attended. We both understood why you couldn’t be here.”
“Thanks. Manny said as much, but it helps to hear you agree. About the book for Scotty, please don’t go out of your way to find one. I know you must be on a schedule.”
“In case you couldn’t tell, I love educating anyone who’ll listen about ensuring wolf habitats remain as nature intended. I’ll keep the book age appropriate. I hope I can find one with photos.” Giving a final wave, Wyatt descended the steps.
Tandy heard him whistling as he crossed the sandy yard to the casita next to Manny’s. It wasn’t until she saw lights spill from his door and windows that she realized she still stood in the cold after she could no longer see and admire the man’s lithe stride.
Chapter Two
The first morning after his return to the ranch, Wyatt stood at the front window of his casita, drinking coffee and watching daylight blossom over the mountain rim. Tandy had not only readied his bed and bathroom, she’d left a pound of Kona coffee beside the coffee maker. He’d never drunk Hawaiian coffee, but it was quite good. He’d have to remember to thank her.
All at once his eyes were drawn away from the streaky salmon glow in the east to the boy he’d met the previous night. Scotty Graham chased after his dog, heading toward the barn. On his heels was his mother, all decked out in boots, jeans, a plaid jacket and a ski cap with earflaps. She caught up to her son, grabbed him around the waist and stuffed him into a denim jacket with a hood that from all appearances he didn’t want to wear. The scene made Wyatt smile.
Pausing with his lips on his mug, he realized how much there was to admire about his new landlady. More than her curly brown hair and dark chocolate eyes. Even more than her trim body, although it certainly lit a few fires in his belly. Just now, instead of scolding her recalcitrant son, her pretty face was filled with love and laughter.
Wyatt imagined the trilling sound and the thought marched fingers of unexpected heat up his spine. His imagination was cut short when Manny Vasquez hobbled on bowlegs to join the others, and the trio continued on into the barn.
Wyatt’s first order of business today was to follow a hiking trail beyond a campground, looking for signs that his wolves had traveled lower in bad weather in search of easier prey. He hoped not, because that was when they could trouble ranchers.
Later in the day he’d go to town for supplies. Wyatt actually wished he didn’t have to make either trip. He’d like to saddle a horse and ride with the others through quiet canyons where cattle roamed. He’d had a taste of that when he’d helped Tandy’s father and recalled he’d rather enjoyed the ranch routine.
Turning from the window, he drained his first cup of java and poured another in a travel mug. He spared a moment, feeling glad that Tandy had been aware he’d bonded with her dad in the year spent here establishing his wolf project. His parents, busy, dedicated archaeologists, rarely found time to connect or ask about his work, as they were so focused on their own.
The fact Curtis Marsh had been so ill may’ve been why he’d welcomed Wyatt’s company. Or maybe the man knew his end was near and he profoundly missed his only child. Because he sometimes got lonely, too, Wyatt had enjoyed hearing of the man’s unabashed love for his deceased wife and his pride for his daughter, who had served multiple tours in war-torn Iraq and Afghanistan.
Tandy’s father had worried about her. Curt wished she’d come home and bring his grandson. Due to their chats, Wyatt guessed he might know Tandy better than she knew him. He’d pored over family photos, from the time she was born to her college graduation to when she finally wore an army uniform. Oddly there were no wedding pictures and very few of her and her son, which made Curt cherish every one.
Ah, well, until last evening Wyatt hadn’t known she’d divorced. Capping his travel mug, he told himself that detail didn’t matter. Shouldn’t matter. Couldn’t matter. Similar to her army deployments, Game and Fish sent him far afield on assignments. Many were remote locations. He used to like that part of his job. Still, it could get old.
Donning his jacket and backpack filled with gear, he set out for the hills where he might find wolf tracks.
By 11:00 a.m. he’d tramped from the highway along two well-traveled trails. Both bordered Spiritridge land. The last one he wanted to check passed nearer to Preston Hicks’s ranch. At a point where the trail curved and dipped for a mile, it ran alongside a popular summer campground.
More than halfway to higher ground by noon, Wyatt thought he heard a tiny bit of static coming through his tracking device. That meant one of his banded adult wolves was in the area. He hiked on, listening carefully, checking all around for tracks or scat.
The static faded. He reached a wide mesa without seeing any evidence of wolves, for which he was thankful. Next time out he’d climb higher to where helicopter spotters had last seen the pack during the winter. Newly released wolves often traveled a great distance from where they were let go. Being smart animals, it was thought they could smell the cage long after it’d been removed. Mostly they steered clear of the smell of man, too.
He circled back toward the ranch. He’d only gone a hundred yards or so when, out of the corner of one eye, he glimpsed the furry backsides of two animals. He lifted his binoculars for a clearer look but saw nothing. Must have been the twitch of a branch, but no wind had come up to rustle across the countryside.
He left the trail to look for tracks in the underbrush. Twice more he saw a brief flash of fur but failed to get close enough to snap a picture with his camera. The animals resembled full-grown wolves. Yet he wasn’t picking up feedback on his scanner. That meant they weren’t his wolves.
A dozen feet off the trail he spotted half a paw print. It could be from a wolf, or a big dog. He knelt, letting his brain sort through possibilities. This was a fair distance from any ranch house. If the dogs were sheepherders, he’d think they would come to him instead of running away.
He scraped debris away from the print and took the best photo he could manage. Not finding additional tracks, he literally crawled along, hoping to run across more.
Before his team had scouted this area, another wildlife management group gave a workshop on wolf dogs. Hybrids could crop up several years after a repatriation, especially near ranching communities. But his team’s release hadn’t been long enough ago for either of their alphas to mate with dogs and produce offspring the size of the animals he’d sighted.
So, what did it mean? Could strays have crossed over the mountains from New Mexico? Their release had been a while ago. Long enough that those wolves no longer wore radio collars.
Traveling deeper into an almost impenetrable thicket, Wyatt hit a wall of vines, gave up and turned back. There were no further sightings of creatures other than a rabbit and a few flitting birds. And
his wolves weren’t here.
Heading to the ranch, he considered calling Tandy before going to town. Last night he should’ve asked if there was anything he could pick up for her or Manny.
As it turned out, he didn’t have phone reception until he was back at his casita. He unloaded equipment from his official SUV and tried Tandy before leaving. She might be out of satellite range. He wondered if she was aware of how spotty phone service was where she ran cattle.
The call connected and he heard her faint “Hello.”
“Hi, Tandy, it’s Wyatt. I’m ready to run into town. Is there anything I can pick up for you, or if Manny’s with you, anything I can get for him?”
“It’s nice of you to ask, but we’re on our back forty, so I’m not able to give you a list or money.”
“No problem. Tell me what you need. We can settle up later.”
“Mainly I need milk, eggs and dog food.” She named the kind of kibble she bought for Mr. Bones.
Wyatt heard her ask if Manny would like him to pick up anything.
“Liniment,” she said a moment later.
“Okay, got it. If you think of anything else, give me a ring. Say, I just had a thought. I know a pizza place that sells premade, uncooked pizzas. How about I grab a couple and feed you and Scotty tonight? What toppings?”
“You don’t have to do that. He’s asking me to remind you about a library book on wolves. And he wants to know if you found your wolf pups?”
“Tell him I won’t forget the book. And I didn’t locate my wolf packs. I picked up a faint signal once on my tracking device, but it didn’t prove to be solid.”
Wyatt would have to find out if Tandy knew of any hybrids in the area. Or maybe he’d ask Manny first. He didn’t want to cause her any concern about wolf dogs, which could be meaner than wild wolves.
“I hope to be back before dark. About those pizzas...do you want me to choose toppings?”
“If you insist on picking some up, we’d love that. Scotty’s favorite is pepperoni. I like any form that passes for Hawaiian with pineapple and pork. But I could eat whatever you like. Really, I’m not fussy. Oh, can you hear Scotty chanting pizza, pizza, pizza? It’s truly his most favorite food. I should make him do veggie.”
Tandy’s laughter was the exact melodious sound Wyatt had imagined about earlier. “Tell him it’ll be a while.” Wyatt chuckled. “I’ll see you both later. I actually know what toppings Manny likes. Tell him I’ll bring him a small sausage, mushroom and dried tomato.” He heard the man call out his thanks. Still smiling over the exchange, which gave him an inclusive feeling like he’d enjoyed with Curt before he’d passed, Wyatt said goodbye and drove away.
He’d reached the outskirts of town where most locals shopped when he decided he’d rather buy Scotty a book that he could keep instead of getting one he’d have to return to the library. He recalled passing a bookstore during the many times he’d taken Curt for chemo treatments to the next larger town.
He figured he could go there and still have time to come back for groceries and pizzas.
Once he reached Safford, he went straight to the bookstore. He actually wasn’t sure if he’d find any children’s books on wolves or wolf families.
Much to his surprise, there was one with great photographs. Heading to check out, he spotted an endcap of posters. One jumped out: three wolves lying under a tree. Two adults and a pup. From their coloring and the high mountains rising in the background, they could be Mexican grays from the Arizona project or New Mexico. Hoping Tandy would let Scotty hang the poster, he added it to the book. While in line, he saw a new mystery by an author he liked and grabbed it.
As his work was so solitary, most evenings he read. Usually he had agency material or wildlife magazines. But he did like intrigue mixed with adventure.
As he paid for his purchases, Wyatt wondered if Tandy liked to read, and if so, what she preferred? He hadn’t met any women who’d been in the military. And according to Curt, she’d commanded a combat support team. What made her choose that life? It seemed harsher than most careers.
He knew quite a few women who worked with wildlife. That could be hard, too. He’d dated a park ranger until she’d transferred to a job in the Northwest.
After pocketing his credit card, he collected his package and left the store. He hadn’t thought about Kylie Porter in a while. Their relationship hadn’t stood up under long distance. His job came first. Still, it bothered him when Kylie accused him of being like his parents who’d never owned a home and were always off on wilderness digs. During his younger years, he’d lived in Las Cruces, New Mexico, with his maternal grandmother.
Now the closest thing he had to a permanent residence was the cabin he often stayed in on a cattle ranch near Silver City. His best friend, Loki Branchwater, owned the ranch. Wyatt was so steeped in thought he drove straight past the general store. When it dawned on him, he made a U-turn and went back. He breezed through the store, loading his cart with items Tandy and Manny had requested. Then he added things from his list.
He didn’t pass anyone in the aisles he knew, which was fine since Tandy had said he wasn’t popular. He checked out quickly with his mind on picking up the pizzas.
The minute he unlocked his vehicle he noticed a series of deep gouges through the paint on his front and back doors. The strips tore jaggedly through the Game and Fish logo.
For a moment he only gaped at the vandalism. Then he glanced around to see if the person or persons responsible lurked nearby. He’d heard of automobiles being keyed, but until now he’d never seen what damage it could do. There were a few cars in the lot, but no one visible.
It could’ve been kids. A check of his watch showed it wasn’t quite three, so the high school and junior high wouldn’t be out.
As he unloaded the cart, he had little doubt that he’d been deliberately targeted. Possibly by an irate rancher.
After returning the cart to the front of the store, he drove to the sheriff’s office. In the past, local authorities partnered with Game and Fish to back teams if anyone instigated mischief of the type that had just occurred.
Sheriff Doug Anderson manned the office alone. He looked up from his computer when Wyatt walked in. The silver-haired man immediately stood and extended a hand. “Say there, Hunt, I heard you were going to spend time with us again. I’ll tell you what I told a contingent of ranchers—my deputies and I have enough to do. We don’t need a hullabaloo blowing up over you wildlife guys.”
Wyatt disengaged his hand. “I’ve only been back one day. I stopped at the general store for supplies. While I was inside, someone raked a key to hell and gone across the driver’s side of my government SUV. I came straight here, so I’m guessing it happened between half an hour and forty-five minutes ago.”
The sheriff sank back in his swivel chair. “Dammit all. Were there any eyewitnesses?”
“There were maybe four cars and a couple of pickups in the lot. That pretty much matches the number of shoppers I saw in the store. No one I knew or who acted as if they knew me. The parking lot itself was empty of people except for me.”
Anderson yanked open a drawer and pulled out a pad of preprinted pages. He tore one off and passed it to Wyatt. “This is an official complaint form. While you fill it out, I’ll go take pictures of the damage. Are you parked in front of my office?”
Wyatt nodded. “I’ll fill it out, for all the good it’ll do. No witnesses and probably no fingerprints. That’s the thing about key damage, hard to identify who held the key.” His face turned sour. “If you want my best guess, it’d be Preston Hicks or Jim Haskell.”
The sheriff paused. “Why them? Both have been pillars of this community for decades.”
“Yeah, well, they and a few others deviled my team last year. If you recall, we never were sure who left a dead wolf on the hood of my SUV.�
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“We exhausted all our leads on that one.” The sheriff raised an eyebrow. “You working with your team this time?”
“I’m alone this trip. Came to check on our packs—count pups, install radio collars and vaccinate them. I’m renting again at Spiritridge Ranch. This time from Curt Marsh’s daughter. She mentioned taking heat at a cattle and sheep rancher’s meeting. Hicks apparently led a rant against me.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of issues at the meeting. I’ve seen Curt’s daughter and her son around town. If Pres gave her grief, why didn’t she report it to me?”
Wyatt shrugged. “I don’t know. She is ex-army. I don’t think she’s easily intimidated.”
“I remember as a teenager she was a tough competitor in a couple of sports.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. What did she play?”
“Hmm. Maybe softball, and track and field events.”
Wyatt could tell the sheriff was combing his memory. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want guys who are PO’d at me picking on her or the boy. He’s sort of fearless, too.” It’s remarkable, really, for as young as Scotty is.
The sheriff waved his phone. “I’ll go take those photos while you complete the form as best you can. I know you didn’t see the incident, but an approximate time and place is important if my deputies are out asking casual questions.”
“Speaking of casual questions,” Wyatt called to the man about ready to walk out the door, “have you heard of any wolf dogs in the vicinity?”
“Wolf dogs? What are they?”
“Mostly a shepherd-type dog bred with a wolf. They carry features of both, but the ones I’ve seen in our lecture films are larger and meaner than a domestic dog.”
“Huh. I haven’t heard of anything like that around. I doubt they’d survive long with all our cattle and sheep ranchers. They’d be trapped or shot.”
Marrying the Rancher Page 3