by Rachel Lee
But first they had to be found. She wondered if any other officers with the WIU were in other locations doing the exact same thing. Probably.
Sighing, tired of thinking about the job all the time, she put some music on her stereo, something quiet but upbeat, started some coffee, then hopped in her shower for a quick wash.
She realized she didn’t have much of a life anymore, outside her work. Maybe she’d become obsessed? She promised herself that after this season was over, she would find something to do with her time that in no way resembled her job. Maybe hang out with the girls as Julie and Connie kept suggesting. She’d worked awfully hard to become a senior warden so early in her career, and she guessed she’d become a little distorted in the process.
Work all the time? That had to stop.
She was wearing some casual sweats when she heard Kel rap on her door. Yep, he was taking her up on the bunk. She went to let him in, saying, “Straight back, the door at the end of the hall.”
“Thanks.” He smiled at her and carried his duffel over his shoulder, marching away.
It was, she thought sourly, a sign of her fatigue that she’d made this offer, especially to a man she found so attractive. She could almost smell trouble in the air, like smoke in the breeze.
Oh, well. She plopped on her sofa, put her sock-covered feet up and worked on a mug of coffee. She was lucky that caffeine never kept her up.
Kel returned a few minutes later.
“There’s coffee if you want any.”
“Thanks. Think you’re done for the night?”
“Who knows? Flexible hours sometimes means all of them.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I’m familiar with that.”
She watched him stride around the edge of the couch and sit in the chair on the other side of the coffee table. “Get-acquainted time,” she said. “When did you leave the Rangers?”
His dark gray eyes studied her. “Three years ago, after I tore up my knees so bad they gave me a medical discharge.”
She sat up a little straighter. “Did they fix them for you?”
“I can still walk. The pain doesn’t count, so the answer is no.”
“That stinks.”
“I’m not so sure I want artificial knees just yet. These are still working.”
She sipped some more coffee, aware that emotions were trying to edge into this picture. She wasn’t sure she should let them. Keeping a reasonable distance from entanglements had so far served her well. “That’s tough.”
“That’s what they make ibuprofen for. I’m okay.”
“And then?”
“After the Rangers?” He smiled and sipped coffee. “I decided I wanted to do something constructive from there on out. I was lucky to get hired by Game and Fish, took all the training, and then for reasons known only to the Fates, I was assigned to WIU.”
She smiled faintly. “Do you wish they’d made you a warden?”
“I did at first,” he admitted, then looked a bit rueful. “I think I had a romanticized view of what you do.”
“Hah!” She slapped her thigh. “I did, too, once upon a time. But even if it’s not romantic, it’s important. Like last spring when I rescued an orphaned mountain lion cub. That made up for a whole lot.”
“I bet it did.”
She hopped up and went to her small personal desk to open a drawer. Pulling out a photo, she walked over and handed it to him. “That’s me and the cub.”
“My God, it’s cute.” He stared and smiled, before passing it back.
She tossed it on the coffee table and resumed sprawling on the sofa. “They’re going to be endangered before long, at least in these mountains. Sport hunting is putting them near critical.”
“Think we’ll protect them?”
Again she laughed. “Well, that depends, doesn’t it? They’re mostly seen as a threat to livestock or as a trophy. But like everything else, they’re an important part of the ecosystem. So I imagine we’ll have a knock-down, drag-out fight over protecting them when the time comes. In the meantime...well, I can rescue cubs.”
“Like wolves,” he mused. “There’s been a lot of upset since the court put them back on the endangered list.”
“I love the wolves,” she said truthfully. “I understand why so many ranchers think they’re a threat, but I still love them. Two summers ago I got to see most of the pack when I was up in the mountains. Unfortunately we feed the elk because of loss of habitat, and no one wants to see the end of elk, or elk hunting. But those feeding areas are like ringing the dinner bell for the wolves. They usually only kill what they need. Usually. But I guess some people don’t want to share.”
“It’s been my experience that wolves are pretty shy of people. But I suppose the ranchers can’t afford full-time range riders or shepherds.”
“Not anymore,” Desi admitted. “Raising livestock is a difficult job under the best of circumstances, so I understand the concerns the ranchers express.” Then she caught herself. “But why don’t we talk about something besides the job. I was thinking earlier that I’m almost obsessive. I need some fresh air in my brain.”
He chuckled. “Well, the job brought us together, so it makes sense we’d talk about it. But on to other subjects. Let me think.”
She was content to let him do the thinking as she rose again to get more coffee. As she returned to the couch, she saw it with fresh eyes for the first time since she’d moved in. She wasn’t even sure what color it was, it was so old and faded. Somewhere between brown and gray? She was fairly fastidious about keeping things clean, but as she stared at that couch she wondered if cleaning it would help.
Seated again, she watched Kel sip his coffee, his gaze distant.
“I know,” he said finally. “Would you believe I actually saw a snow leopard when I was in Afghanistan? In the wild.”
“For real?” She sat up a little straighter. “Aren’t they rare?”
“Exceedingly. There are only about 250 left.”
“So how did you manage it?”
“I was on a mission to train Afghani forces in mountain fighting. Early one morning I was scanning the mountains around us through some high-power binoculars and there it was. I didn’t tell anyone about it because their pelts are highly prized and the last thing I wanted to do was let anyone know it was there.”
She felt herself smiling broadly. The story made her heart lift. Now, this was a change from her usual rut. “I think I’m going to die of envy.”
He laughed. “Don’t do that. I just wished I could take a photo, but it was too far away. Warming itself on a high ledge in the first sunbeams of the day. It was stunning, Desi. Just stunning.”
“That’s something I’ll only ever see in a photo,” she remarked. “But I’m glad you kept it secret.”
“I didn’t tell a soul. Everyone knows there are snow leopards in the Kush, but they’re hard to find, they range large territories and...well, I wasn’t going to pinpoint one. Afghanistan wants to protect them, but given how rough things are over there...” He let it hang, evidently feeling a long explanation wasn’t necessary. “Anyway, I’d seen one of their pelts in a market in Kabul. I wasn’t going to add to the count.”
She nodded, understanding completely. “You must have seen a lot of exotic things.”
“Depends on what you mean. I saw an awful lot of ugly things, some beautiful things. I made friends but I’m sure I made more enemies. I had about as much idea of what it would mean to be a soldier as you probably had about being a game warden.”
She nodded slowly, feeling an unexpected ache for him. This man bore burdens she couldn’t begin to imagine. He seemed to bear them well. So far, anyway.
He appeared to hesitate. “I think it’s only fair to tell you that I was married once. It blew up when I came back fr
om my first tour in Iraq. I was fairly messed up, explosive temper, flashbacks. It settled down, but too late.”
“And what about now?” she asked, her heart accelerating.
“It’s under control. That’s probably the best I’ll ever be able to say about it. But I can’t complain. Plenty of guys have it worse.”
She bit her lower lip, wondering. “Why did you tell me this, Kel? Is it something I need to worry about?”
He shook his head. “You might see me get a little edgy on occasion, but like I said, I have a handle on it now. Which makes me luckier than most. I just wanted you to know in case I got snappish or withdrawn for no apparent reason.”
That was a whole mouthful, she thought. He might have a handle on it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t being tormented anyway. She could have sighed. So many young men and women, haunted forever. But she sought a more helpful attitude. “That’s okay. I get the same way sometimes. Maybe not to the same degree. I don’t know, but I have my moods, too.”
He smiled. Such a warm expression, and it charmed her. “Thanks. Mine can be worse I suppose, but like I said I’ve got it pretty much under control.”
“How much time did you spend over there?” she asked. “If that’s not prying.”
He looked away for a moment. “Since we invaded Afghanistan? A lot. There were breaks, of course. Time to land for a while. Then back again. Maybe seven years or so?”
She couldn’t imagine it. Simply couldn’t. Bouncing back and forth between peace and war like that? It seemed to her that that alone would cause problems. “That must have been rough,” she said after a moment.
“It was what it was.”
Such a casual answer. But she was emerging from her self-imposed preoccupation with her job, a way of avoiding everything else she sometimes thought, and began to see Kel. Really see him, beyond his sexual pull for her. He was treating all this so casually. Had it under control.
That casualness, she thought with gut-deep certainty, was a mask hiding some real suffering. Maybe he’d managed to bury that pain so deep that it didn’t drive him all the time. Maybe he’d even grown accustomed to it.
But she didn’t know how to ask him. Didn’t want to pry, and from the vets she knew around here she thought that prying would be bad anyway. None of them seemed to want to talk about that stuff, not with people who’d never been there.
She could comprehend that. She’d met people who couldn’t fathom why she was able to shoot an injured antelope as she had. Not because she was hunting but because it was the only help she could offer it. They talked about veterinarians, about rehab places, all without knowing that with an injury like that there was no help. And she had to make that decision with a quick inspection. Did she feel nothing? If only.
So she kept her heart locked away on the job as necessary, avoiding thinking too hard about the parts she didn’t like, focusing on the parts she loved. Kel was doing that with a whole big chunk of his life, she guessed.
All of a sudden she felt closer to him. Felt the early stirrings of understanding. There was no real comparison in their experiences, but enough of one to create the first thread between them, on her side at least.
She rose and got the coffeepot, warming both their cups.
“You okay, Desi?” he asked suddenly.
“I’m fine. Maybe a little burnt out,” she added honestly.
He half smiled. “Early in the season for that, isn’t it?”
She shook her head as she settled on the couch again. “It’s year-round, one way or another. Think we don’t get poaching in July?”
“I know you do.”
“Exactly. There’s a lot of other crap, too, like off-roaders driving on posted range land, mudders tearing up sensitive ecology in the spring. Frankly, I’ll never understand the thrill of driving through deep mud. All it does is make a mess.”
His smile widened a bit. “Do it because you can?”
“Seems like.” She offered a smile in return. “There are good things, too. I know a lot of good people, for one thing. For another, there’s nothing like rescuing a baby critter that’s lost its mom.”
“Like the mountain lion cub.”
“Or a bear cub. Or a mess of raccoons. Even injured birds. There’s also fun, like the time a bunch of us had to drive a huge herd of elk off a rancher’s grazing land. They’d pushed their way right though the fence.”
His interest perked. “How many?”
“Seven, eight hundred. A regular roundup.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“It could have been but mostly they wanted to get away from us, so we were able to convince them to go back through the fence. We had a lot of local help with that one, and we didn’t lose a single elk.”
He nodded and sipped more coffee. “Bet it felt good.”
She laughed, feeling as if a spring inside her were uncoiling a bit. “It felt like a triumph. Nobody wanted to see that herd hurt, but the rancher needed the land for his own stock.”
His face shadowed a bit. “Not enough room anymore.”
“Not anymore.” She stifled a sigh. “It’s a constant battle, Kel. You must have figured that out. Not enough open land anymore, not for the way it used to be. We keep migration corridors open, we have feeding areas for the big game because otherwise they’d starve and guess what happens?” And here she was, talking the job again. A one-trick pony.
“What?”
“Brucellosis. Everybody wanted to blame it on the buffalo coming out of Yellowstone, but the truth turned out to be the elk were passing it along at the feeding sites, and when the elk ran into buffalo or free-range cattle...well. Not the buffalo at all, really.”
Then she sat up. “I believe I said I didn’t want to talk about the job tonight.”
“You did. I’m sorry.”
“I’m the one who keeps bringing it up like a broken record.” She shook her head.
“Well, it can be a 24/7 job. But right now you’re relaxing, so let me think of something else to talk about. I was trying to do that earlier, and not so successfully it seems.”
It was true, she thought. She gave him points for being helpful in more ways than one. She must sound like a whiner. Or maybe a bore. Either one was bad.
“Got any family?” he asked.
“You mean the deserters?” She smiled. “My parents headed for sunnier climes as soon as they could manage. My mother never liked the cold, and as she got older her dislike grew. My dad swore he couldn’t take the complaining anymore. So off to Texas, where he’s working construction and Mom is selling real estate.”
“Do you go visit them?”
“Christmas, if I can get away for a few days. Mostly in the summer. Yeah, it’s warmer. I don’t like it.”
He laughed outright, drawing an answering laugh from her. “I’m not keen on hot climates. Any delusions I had about that ended in Iraq. I’ll take cool and cold any day.”
“So you weren’t just in Afghanistan?”
“Not always.” He paused, his gaze growing distant. Then he shook his head, as if a gnat were annoying him. “As to family...there’s just me.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “I was adopted. I don’t remember my real parents, and my adoptive parents were older people, more like grandparents, and childless. I guess I’m weird, but I never had any urge to hunt up my biological mother or father. My adoptive parents were good to me. I loved them and they loved me. That’s all I need to know.”
Never having been adopted, Desi didn’t know how to evaluate that, but she suspected this was a man who was good at compartmentalizing his life. Then it occurred to her that in her own way so was she. The Job. All the time, the Job.
“Didn’t anyone ever sweep you off your feet?” he teased.
; Well, there was nothing like a spot of truth, she decided. “One guy tried.”
“And?”
“I kicked him in the nuts.”
His face suddenly went stony, as if he were refusing to react to the range of possibilities inherent in her statement. Good choice, she thought sourly.
“Exactly why?” he asked after a minute.
“What seemed like a date turned into a rape.” There, that was bold. But she didn’t see any reason to pretty it up. It had been ugly and she’d cried for two days afterward. Then she’d vowed to never be a fool again. So how was it possible she could feel attraction to Kel? To any man? Dangerous waters.
He swore, then said, “I’m sorry. I’m surprised you’re lending me a bunk.”
“That’s different. Colleagues use that bunkhouse all the time. Just don’t try to snow me.” With that she stood and went to her own bedroom and locked the door behind her.
God, it was all swimming up again. Why the hell had she ever pulled the cork out of that bottle?
She settled into her rocking chair and just rocked. What else could she do? It’d settle again. It always had before.
* * *
Left to his own devices in her small front room with the remains of a pot of coffee, Kel thought about what she’d just revealed. It had been a stunner, all right. And maybe self-protective.
A few times he’d caught female interest in her gaze, the same kind of attraction he felt for her. Maybe she was afraid of her own feelings. Or maybe she’d sensed his. So she’d put up one great big warning flag.
Just don’t try to snow me. That was a revealing statement. It might explain why she lived for the job, why it was so much of her life that she talked about little else. If so, he felt really sorry for her.
But not just because of her job preoccupation. Because someone had raped her, and the assault had cut so deep that she let nothing else into her life.
If there was one thing he’d learned during his long road of dealing with post-traumatic stress, it was that the world was full of walking wounded, people who’d never been in an official battle zone, but who’d fought their own desperate wars of one kind or another.