“But they weren’t, honey. Just go.”
Anna nodded, clenching her jaw to keep from saying more.
Wyatt watched as the truck drove away. Then he turned back to Buffy, who’d returned to her truck. Wyatt climbed in beside her. “Let’s go find your buffalo.”
“Are you planning to use that thing?” She tipped her head at the rifle Wyatt still had clenched in his rigid hand.
“If I have to.”
Buffy drove.
For a while, the silence in the cab was so thick Wyatt could barely inhale. But he wasn’t going to apologize again. He was already over his quota for the year.
Buffy pointed straight ahead. “There’s one of them.” The buffalo was still kicking up its heels. It ran full out tirelessly, as if it could go on forever.
“How far to the pens?” Buffy asked.
“It’s at least ten miles. If they decide to quit running, Wolf’ll never get them to walk that far as a herd. They’ll just start spreading out and foraging.”
“Ten miles.” Buffy sounded hopeless as they drew closer to the running animal. “They’ve already been running longer than that from the Commons. But buffalo can lope along for hours. They might keep going most of the way.”
Wyatt could see more of them ahead.
“Are there any more ranch houses between here and there?” Buffy asked.
“None on a direct path. There’s a country school about three miles to the east, but it’s on the other side of Cold Creek. And there’s a country church on past the pens, the one the boys and I attend. If we don’t stop them, they’ll probably ruin that.” Wyatt watched more buffalo appear in the headlights. “But they’ll miss both those things if Wolf can lead them to the holding pens. They’ll need to be turned a little to the east after a while, but there’s a steep bank along the creek if they keep on this course. That’ll turn ’em, I hope. If they were still stampeding, they’d probably go right over it, and most of them wouldn’t survive, but if they’ve slowed by then, it’ll turn ’em naturally.”
He heard the lift in his voice. He was getting involved in the project of recapturing the buffalo. That was the nature of ranching. If something got out, you got it in. If your neighbor had trouble, you pitched in to make it right.
With a resigned sigh, he knew he had no other choice. His rifle was useless unless they were attacked by a single buffalo. He’d calmed down enough to know shooting them wouldn’t solve the problem. “A buffalo commons,” he said coldly.
“What?” Buffy looked away from her prey.
“That was your plan, wasn’t it? To turn the whole state of South Dakota into unfenced prairie? Give it back to the buffalo?”
“Well, it’s the way nature planned it.”
“And God had another plan, didn’t He? He made man. He gave him dominion over the animals. Or are you one of those people who throw out the parts of the Bible that don’t suit you?”
“I don’t throw out parts of the Bible. I can show respect for the planet and still be a Christian. People who think animal rights are in conflict with human rights just aren’t trying to adapt. Destroying one species after another endangers us all. And a person can live a healthy life without meat in his diet.”
Wyatt turned on her furiously. “You know that might be true in America. This is a rich country, and we have a million options in our diet, but if it’s immoral to eat meat here, then it’s immoral everywhere. What about the people in Africa who have one herd of goats for the whole village? What if that’s their only food. Are you really going to tell them they’re sinners for eating that goat? Are you going to tell a man his children have to starve to death because an animal has the same right to life a human being has?”
“Don’t try to compare—”
“So it’s a sin here,” Wyatt said sarcastically. “Animals have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness in America. But in Africa, well, that’s different. Eat up. Your ethics are pretty convenient for you. Sin is now a matter of geography.”
“I don’t know why you keep talking about sin. It’s not about sin.”
“I thought you said animals have rights. If that’s true, then they have the right to life. I can no more eat a chicken than I can eat one of my kids.”
“That’s disgusting.” Buffy dropped the speed of her truck again as the buffalo in front of her slowed.
“What’s disgusting is you putting those dangerous animals on a par with human life. You know everyone talks about saving the tiger. They talk about how elephants and rhinos are disappearing from the wild. Well, let me tell you something, Buffalo Gal, I’d be a real poor sport about my son being eaten by a tiger. It’s so easy for you to sit here, thousands of miles away, and talk about leaving large, dangerous animals in the wild, but the reality of living in a village that is in the hunting territory of a pride of lions is pretty grim.
“Do you think those poachers who shoot elephants for their tusks don’t want them dead and gone? Do you think I want a herd of buffalo rampaging through my ranch? Do you think I want wolves and mountain lions roaming my land? Is there any way for me to relax and appreciate them when my children are at risk every time they step out the door?”
Wyatt rubbed his hand over his mouth to keep from saying any more. His other hand tightened on his rifle, which rested beside his thigh, the muzzle pointed toward the floor of the truck. He stared at the buffalo in front of them.
An occasional flash of lightning showed the earth, a living mass of movement in the distance.
Buffy said in a low, urgent voice, “There may be some fanatics who really believe a rat has as much right to life as I do, but I’m not one of them.”
Wyatt raised his hands as if in surrender. It didn’t look much like surrender with the rifle in his left hand. He tried to quit sounding like a madman. “I’m yelling at you, and I know this isn’t your fault. And I know Mr. Leonard has tried. I’ve seen the efforts he’s gone to. He’s supported this area in a lot of ways. But that doesn’t change the basic argument, does it? I’ll believe in animal rights when I see a chimpanzee judge put a cat in prison for killing a mouse.”
“Wyatt, now’s not the time to talk about this. You’re upset, and I don’t blame you. I’m going to insist that Mr. Leonard raise the budget to include riders to patrol the fence night and day. We need a stronger fence. You’ll see, we—”
“We won’t see about anything. I won’t rest until those buffalo get out of this area. You know, if you want to restore this area to its natural state and make a real buffalo commons, Leonard needs a predator for the food chain. He wants to reintroduce wolves into the area. Mountain lions. Grizzly bears. You think a wolf is going to face a buffalo when he can have one of my calves? But it doesn’t matter, because I’ll be long gone if Mr. Leonard has his way. What a harebrained scheme. What arrogance. What disrespect for me and my neighbors.” Wyatt forced himself to be silent again.
“You know how badly I feel about this.”
Now that they were close enough to hear the thundering hooves of the herd, he flashed back to that buffalo smashing through his living room window. He saw his boys running into that glass-strewed carpet. He saw his horse go down. He rubbed his hand into his hair, and glass cut his hand. He opened the window to shake off the glass. Dirt billowed into the truck, stirred up by the herd, so he closed it again.
Buffy drove along, tailing the stragglers. There was a kind of desperate stillness to her, as if she didn’t want to attract his attention and start him yelling again.
Wyatt tried to let go of his rage. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t your fault. I know you’ve had as much harm done to you as I have with this mess.” He didn’t mean it, but he said it.
“We spend way too much time apologizing to each other.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Look, they’re veering off east.”
Sure enough, they were. They were slowing down, too. The gravel road that led to the pens was the path of least resi
stance, and they followed it.
“They probably built this road on a trail left by buffalo,” Buffy said.
“It’s the low road. It winds around the hills and avoids the creeks.”
“Just like a buffalo would.”
Wyatt didn’t respond.
The buffalo in front of them dropped from its ground-eating lope into a rugged trot. It moved along for a mile or so at that speed and then fell to a walk.
Buffy stopped the truck, and they sat, listening to the thundering hooves fade as the rest of the herd began to walk. Silence reigned. They passed through the dust kicked up by the running herd, and the air cleared as they drove slowly onward.
The lightning storm faded in the distance.
“We’ll make this right.” Buffy turned to him. “I promise. Even if I have to work at your ranch single-handedly until everything is rebuilt and replaced. I’m so thankful none of you were hurt.” She’d pulled the truck to a stop in the middle of the road but left it running, and he could see her in the dim light of the dashboard.
She reached out and touched his temple and pulled away a finger tipped in blood. “At least not hurt badly. And no matter what I say about animal rights, the danger we put your family in is inexcusable. We’re going to do whatever it takes to make sure this never happens again. You have my word on that.”
Buffy was asking for his forgiveness. . .again.
The night closed around them. The whole world was silent. Not a cricket chirped. Not a frog croaked. They’d all been scared away by the monsters crashing through their territory.
Wyatt turned to look at the strolling herd, disappearing out of the beam of their headlights. His head dropped back against the headrest. “I believe you, Buffy. But I don’t want to live with this kind of threat in my backyard. And I don’t know any other life. I have to fight for my ranch, and that means the buffalo have to go.” He remembered Anna’s words. He wondered if she’d first heard them from him. “There are some things Mr. Leonard’s money can’t fix.”
“And if the buffalo go, I go with them,” Buffy said.
Wyatt hadn’t thought of that. Buffy and Wolf and a couple dozen other hands at the Buffalo Commons. Mr. Leonard was one of the area’s largest employers. He paid well, too. Full-time jobs with good benefits—something rare out here. Wyatt hired some help during the haying season, but otherwise his ranch was a one-man operation. Most ranches were.
He looked at her in the gentle light of the dashboard. Her light brown eyes glowed with regret. “Where would you go?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m supposed to spend three months here is all. Then, when my doctoral dissertation is done, I’ve got a job waiting for me in Yellowstone. It’s the premier buffalo herd in the nation, at least to my way of thinking. I want to spend a few years there, learning everything I can. Then I thought I might try to get on with Mr. Leonard permanently. He’s doing the most exciting work with buffalo of anyone. Of course if this blows up in his face, he’ll have to abandon it. He has ranches like this all over the country.” With a sad little laugh, she added, “There’s not a lot of call for a buffalo specialist.”
“Who was your guidance counselor in high school?” Wyatt asked. “You could have used some career counseling.”
“Actually, I’m a licensed veterinarian.”
That brought Wyatt’s head up. “A veterinarian? I thought you said you were twenty-five.”
Buffy shrugged. “What can I say? I’m gifted.”
“We could use a veterinarian.”
“But I specialized in buffalo. I didn’t learn much else.” She rested her cheek against her headrest.
Wyatt knew she wasn’t talking about buffalo. What she didn’t learn much about were men, sitting too close to her in dark trucks. Then he saw his boys running for the window and his barn collapsing. There was always going to be a big, fat, ugly buffalo standing squarely between them. “Why buffalo? Whatever possessed you to be obsessed with those nasty, stupid critters?”
Just that easily, the spell between them was broken. But so was most of the tension.
Buffy leaned away from him and smiled. “They’re no uglier than cows.”
“Sure they are. Way uglier. A cow’s a pretty little thing.”
“That’s why a woman is so tickled when someone calls her a cow.”
“All the women I say it to are honored.”
“Try calling one a heifer sometime and see if she likes it.”
“Already have. I’ve had some luck with it.”
Buffy laughed. “Well, that just goes to show. . .”
“What?”
She gripped the steering wheel. “An hour ago, when I realized that the herd was loose and headed for your place, when I realized you and your family could be killed by the buffalo, I was so scared I would have bet I’d never laugh again.”
Wyatt heard more in her voice than the worry of a rancher for her neighbor. He heard the same thing he’d heard that morning two weeks ago when she hadn’t liked finding him with Jeanie. The same thing he’d heard behind every insult and apology. There couldn’t be anything between them. . .but there was.
Without making a conscious choice, Wyatt reached for her and pulled her into his arms. She looked startled, but she let him drag her over to his side of the truck.
Wyatt, knowing every move was pure stupid, lowered his head.
Lights in the rearview mirror jerked them apart.
Buffy scooted away from him so quickly, Wyatt thought she’d been snagged by a lasso and hog-tied to her door.
Before Wyatt could say anything, Wolf pulled up on Wyatt’s side of the truck, and Wyatt opened his window in a night so full of dust he could chew the air.
“I’m just going to ease on through the herd.” Wolf jerked his chin in a nod. “They usually let me drive right out among ’em. I’m hoping they’ll catch the scent of the hay.”
Seth called out from the back end. “If they don’t follow, I’ll throw out a little hay to bait ’em. The sheriff is already waiting at the pen. He’ll have it open, and he’s lined up every truck he could muster to form a wall, including several semis. We’re hoping they’ll all just walk right in; then we’ll load ’em and take ’em home.”
“Not all,” Wyatt said.
“Nope.” Wolf shook his dark head. “I already saw a few turned aside from the herd. I’ve been radioing their locations to the other hands, and they’re darting them with the tranquilizer gun and picking them up. We’ll get ’em, Wyatt. You know we will.”
“I know you’ll try. But how many of my cows will be pregnant with buff calves by then? It’s the height of breeding season right now. And if your buffalo have brucellosis, my herd may have to be quarantined and slaughtered.”
“We’ll replace them if it happens,” Wolf said. “It’s the best we can do.”
Wyatt’s hand, resting against the open window frame, clenched into a fist. “It’s not good enough.”
“I know.” Wolf began driving forward. He was the kind of man Wyatt could understand. Now wasn’t the time for talking. Now was the time for doing. Wolf, like Wyatt, kept going forward because there was no other direction a man could go.
“You stay back here, Buffy. We need someone to bring up the rear.” Wolf drove into the slowly moving herd.
Wyatt saw the buffalo perk up their heads as Wolf drove by. “They know him,” he said with quiet amazement.
“He sings to them. Listen. It sounds like an old Indian chant of some kind.”
He heard the low, guttural crooning of a Native American tribal song. The buffalo started falling into line behind the truck. Wyatt said, “They know their master’s voice.”
“We should all be so wise,” Buffy said.
Six
“That would be stupid!” Wyatt turned from watching the tenth semi pull away from the stock pens.
Buffy was sick of being called names. She jammed her hands on her hips. “We need to call the radio station. The newspapers. The
television stations. We need to warn people, for heaven’s sake!”
“The nearest paper is in Hot Springs, and it only comes out once a week. There’s no TV station that carries local news. If Rapid City got the story, it would just be for the sake of gossip. What can they do? And as for the radio letting people know, we already did.”
“Called the radio?” Buffy asked.
“Let people know. Wolf phoned everyone in the area hours ago.”
Buffy nodded. “Makes sense.”
“They’re all taking precautions with their families, and they’re riding out at first light to spot runaways. They’ll start phoning in reports of buffalo as soon as they spot them.”
“That’s the last of ’em,” Wolf said.
Buffy hadn’t given much thought to Wolf’s age before tonight, but now she noticed the gray hairs reflected by the headlights. His face was lined with fatigue.
Of course, she might have gray hair and lines in her face after tonight, too. “Did you get a head count, Wolf?” Buffy had stopped pacing for a while as she watched the buffalo load, but now she went back to it. She was running on pure adrenaline, and she needed to keep moving or start screaming.
“I counted every semiload, and we’re putting each load in a separate pen back at the Commons. We’ll recount there. We started this night with 1,462, including the spring calves.”
“I didn’t know the herd had gotten so big,” Wyatt said with obvious disapproval.
He was the one she’d start screaming at if she cracked, so she kept her mouth clamped shut. He’d been growing increasingly rude. He responded to every comment with terse insults. She didn’t know how much more of it she could take.
“I’ve loaded 1,241 on the trailers. We kept careful count.”
“Two hundred and twenty-one buffalo missing.” Wyatt bristled with hostility.
Buffy couldn’t blame him, but that didn’t keep her from wanting to stuff a cork in his mouth. And unfortunately it didn’t keep her from thinking about him almost kissing her and, worse yet, her almost kissing him back.
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