“It’s three o’clock in the morning. Are you nuts?”
Hank smiled again. “Probably, but it makes me sleep better to check on them. We’re almost at the end of this, and I don’t want anything to go wrong now. The wolves have the odds stacked against them as it is.”
“Whatever.” Cal shrugged his shoulders and headed toward his tent. “See you in the morning.”
Hank zipped his jacket up closer around his neck. It was spring, technically, but when the early morning hours settled over the mountains, the wind had a biting edge to it. Maybe the cold would help him think clearly. He sure needed some help where Shadoe was concerned. In one brief encounter he’d opened the door on a past that held nothing but pain. For a few seconds, he thought he’d seen something of the girl he’d once loved with all his heart. And the chance that she still existed had given him a rush of pleasure and hope so strong that he was still unbalanced by it. And then another man had walked up and presented another side of Shadoe. John Carpenter had painted a picture of an ambitious woman who went over, under or through anything that got in her way. A woman who had used him and left him behind when she was done. The very idea chilled him colder than the mountain wind. He stood up, too cold and too disturbed to sit still any longer.
The wolves were half a mile from the camp, an attempt to keep them as free of contact with man as possible and yet keep them safe. It was an uphill climb, and Hank needed the exertion to calm his thoughts. Shadoe Deerman and his reaction to her wasn’t going to go away. Hell, she’d been in his subconscious more than twenty years, and he’d been so stupid, or so stubborn, he hadn’t been willing to accept it. Seeing her, though, he could no longer bury the truth. He’d never gotten over her. And if his encounter with her in Billings was any clue, he probably never would. He just had to make damn certain that he didn’t let her interfere with his job.
He climbed the trail, checking the two females that had been caged together. They were smaller than Thor by about thirty pounds each. Instead of meeting his gaze, they turned away, moving to the far end of their space. He moved on, checking several young males and finally coming to the male and female couple they’d captured together. The female was pregnant, and the birth of the pups would help cement the pack’s territorial shift to Montana.
He knew immediately that something was wrong with the female. She was stretched full-length on the ground, her breathing too shallow and too fast. The male paced around her whining. Sitting back on his haunches, he pointed his nose toward the sky and let out a terrible howl.
Chapter Five
Hank stood at the veterinarian’s elbow as he increased the intravenous drip that pumped nutrients and sedative into the veins of the wolf. Her breathing was slower, steadier, but no one had to tell Hank that it was touch-and-go. What the vet couldn’t tell him was the exact poison she had eaten. Not for absolute certain—until the tests had been run.
Doc Adams turned to Hank and shook his head. “I can’t be certain until the blood work is complete, but I’d say arsenic.”
Hank had trained himself not to react, not to show anger. He nodded. He’d known it from looking at her. “Thepups?”
“Stabilized for the moment. I can’t guarantee anything, though. Spontaneous abortion would be a natural thing, even if the mother lives. And that’s a big if.”
Hank nodded again to show that he understood. His gaze drifted to the helpless animal on the makeshift examination table that had been hurriedly erected in a large tent. She was a predator, a creature capable of bringing down a sheep or cow, yet against the forces of man, she was helpless. And poison was the most cowardly of all the tactics used against animals.
Doc Adams had been a vet in Lakota County for over forty years. Hank had known him since he was a small boy.
Doc wasn’t inclined to discuss the motives of the ranchers and citizens of the area, particularly not with him. But Hank had seen the disgust on his face. Adams wasn’t a man who held with poisoning an animal. Not even a wolf.
“Any ideas who might be capable of this?” It was Hank’s job to ask the question.
Doc turned back to the IV. “I’ve got some thoughts, but I don’t have any evidence. It could be one of at least a dozen folks not all that happy about the wolves coming in here. And it could be some outsider trying to fight their fight on my home ground.”
“Whoever did this needs to be brought to justice.”
Doc picked up his equipment. “I couldn’t agree with you more. If I knew who did this, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell you. But I’m not going to ruin a man’s name based on speculation.”
“Can you tell me how they got it to her?”
“Ground meat. That’s what she ate.”
“We haven’t fed the wolves any beef. But I found another arsenic capsule in some beef in an empty cage.”
“Your lab showed it was arsenic?” Doc looked interested.
“Yes. No doubt at all.”
“Then I’d say this is arsenic, too. Ground meat is the easiest medium to insure a fatal dose. She’s just lucky you went up to check her. Another hour and she would have died for sure.” Doc shrugged into his coat. Though it was April, the nights were cold, and this had been a long one. “I’ll be back in six hours to check her. I’ve got to go to the Double S and make sure Shadoe’s mare is getting along. She’s due any minute now, and I promised I’d check her every day.”
The mention of Shadoe and the Double S stopped Hank in his tracks. Not that he suspected her of the poisoning. He knew better than most that she was in Billings. With an old cowboy flame. But maybe Doc was just the person to ask about Shadoe and John Carpenter.
“Doc, can I ask you a question?”
“I’ve told you everything I know about the wolf. If she’s a fighter, she might make it.”
Hank shook his head. “It’s about Shadoe.”
Doc’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What about her?”
“Do you know anything about a guy named John Carpenter?”
Surprise was evident on Doc’s face, and then a twinge of regret. “I know John, a little.” The old vet took a breath. “Is this official or personal, Hank?”
It was hard for him to say, but he managed. “It’s personal.”
“Okay, then, I’ll tell you. Shadoe and John met at a rodeo. She was working for an advertising agency and John rekindled her interest in horses. He taught her to rodeo, and she was good, but she didn’t like the calf roping business or the bucking animals. Said it was cruel to the animals and even though she wanted to compete, she wanted a sport that didn’t rely on mistreatment of animals. I think she and John had played out, and so she went back to work to earn enough money to reopen the Double S. Took a shine to cutting horses.”
“End of story?” Hank asked.
“Not quite.” Doc shook his head. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Hank. John Carpenter just bought Copperwood last month. Says he’s going to raise horses. If I understood correctly, he intends to use Shadoe’s stud.”
Hank walked over to the wolf. He stroked her muzzle with the back of his hand. “Thanks for telling me, Doc. What should I do when the wolf comes around?” Hank’s question stopped the vet with his hand on the tent flap.
“The best thing for her, if sheregains consciousness before I get back, would be to somehow let her know her mate is here. Wolves mate for life, you know. I can’t help but think that’s about the only thing you can offer her.” He walked out of the tent, closing the flap behind him.
Hank was left with his worries, his anger and a sense of terrible loss. He’d known intuitively that John and Shadoe shared some common past. He just hadn’t wanted to accept it. Now he knew it was true. And John Carpenter had bought his old family place. Well, he’d never intended to go back there.
He focused on the wolf, willing her to fight, to try to live for the cubs she carried, for the future of the pack. As he looked at her, he felt a terrible anger. Someone had selected the most vulnerable of the wolve
s and tried to kill her. Why just one? Since they’d gotten close enough to poison one, why not all of them? These were the questions he should be answering, not mooning over a lost woman and a mined ranch.
He pushed Shadoe and his family ranch out of his mind and concentrated on the wolf. She was heavily sedated, and would be for hours. How had this happened? How had the men he’d left behind to guard the camp been so careless? He couldn’t help the wolf, but he could do his job. He checked the small generator to make sure there was enough gas in it to keep the lights going in the makeshift clinic, and studied the wolf one more time. She hadn’t moved at all.
Feeling completely helpless, he found his jacket and started to pick up a flashlight. As he stepped outside the tent flap he found that dawn was creeping over the horizon, and there was no need for the light. It would be smarter to wait until full sunup, but he didn’t have the patience. He was compelled to take some action, to begin the process of bringing the criminal to justice. If there were tracks, he might be able to follow them. The poisoner was long gone, no doubt, but judging from the size and depth of the prints he’d left, Hank would at least have an idea of the body type.
The wolves were restless as he approached. They prowled their cages, all except Thor. The biggest male sat and stared at him, as if he’d been waiting for Hank to arrive.
Maybe it was the poisoning, or maybe it was all the teasing he’d been getting lately from the other agents, but Hank felt a ripple of uneasiness move through him at the wolfs unrelenting stare. It was almost as if the animal blamed him for what had happened.
Ignoring Thor, he started around the other pens when he heard something in the underbrush. His hand went to his gun and he eased it out of the holster, holding it in his right hand as he dropped to a lower position and began to move forward. The noise was coming from the area near the pen where the male, agitated by the loss of his mate, paced the enclosure in rapid, worried measure.
As hard as he listened, Hank could hear only the sounds of the wolves and the movement of a brisk wind through the spruce trees. Holding himself perfectly still, he scanned the area to the left of the cage. Was it possible the poisoner was coming back to try to kill another? Even as he thought it, it didn’t make sense. Why not kill them all at once? Why risk another trip?
He heard voices, low voices speaking urgently. Two men, whispering in what seemed like anger. They were coming toward him, he could tell, because the voices grew louder, more clear with each second. When he finally saw them, he was ready to launch himself at them.
“Hank?” Cal Oberton looked directly at him. “Is that you?”
Hank caught himself just before he catapulted his body at them. His plan had been to try battering them to the ground with his weight and then holding them there with his gun.
“Hank?” Cal sounded worried.
Hank rose from behind the shrub where he’d thought to set up an ambush. “What are you doing out here, Cal?” He was more than a little annoyed. “Harry?” He looked his boss dead in the eye.
“Harry asked me to take a look with him.” Cal sounded apologetic, and a little weary. “Jim Larson came and woke us up when you called for the vet. Harry wanted to start the investigation right away.”
Hank grew even more annoyed. Harry Code wouldn’t know where to begin investigating the attempted poisoning of an endangered species. As far as Hank had been able to discern since coming to Code’s territory, all his boss knew was how to dress for success and how to brownnose. He fought to keep his cool. “Find anything?” he tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Cal was a good friend, and he was caught in a bad situation. If Harry had asked to see the place, Cal had no choice but to show him.
“We didn’t find anything.” Cal shrugged, more than aware of his friend’s displeasure.
“No footprints?” Hank felt a great disappointment. The ground was rocky, but there were places where it was still soft from the melting snow There should have been some prints, or at least something.
“We didn’t find a thing.” Harry motioned for the two agents to follow him. “I think we need to make an appeal to the public on this. I was thinking about calling the television crews up here. They’ve been hounding me to see the wolves before they’re released, and I was thinking this would be a good time to use the media’s interest—”
“And draw every maniac with a hunting rifle into the area.” Hank cut him off. He gave his employer a hard look, and realized for the first time that Code wore a new pinstriped suit and wing tip shoes, now caked with mud and debris.
“The wolves are no secret.” Harry slowed his pace long enough to glare at Hank. “You don’t like the media, Emrich. I understand why. I remember the stink about that television reporter. That woman almost pinned your ears.” Satisfaction edged his voice. “I heard you almost lost your badge. If the media hadn’t gotten in the way, you’d have nailed those bird importers. And I suppose you’re still smarting over that little romantic encounter. Well, that’s the past, this is the present. You have to play the media game by their rules, but we can use them, if we’re smart.”
Hank ground his teeth together to clamp down the angry remark that wanted to fly out of his mouth. Harry Code was an idiot. An idiot with an ego as big as the Rocky Mountains.
Code continued, running a hand down the side of his head to make sure his salt-and-pepper sweep of hair was still in place. “I think a press conference is an excellent idea. Once we present the wolves as vulnerable, maybe some of the people who are so afraid of them will champion their cause. You know, underdogs and all. Get some of those environmentalists up here to say how wolves round out the natural balance, etcetera, etcetera.” He waved his hand at Cal. “Make a note of that, and we’ll take care of it as soon as the newspapers and television stations open for business. With some luck we could have them here by noon.” He was nodding to himself. “Now come with me, Oberton, I need you to take care of some things.”
Code started down the side of the mountain, towing Cal along in his wake, issuing orders and making lists. “Maybe we could call a florist, get a few potted plants up here for color. You know, something for the cameras to focus on,” Code said.
Cal threw a helpless glance over his shoulder at Hank, who’d stopped in his tracks. Hank gave his friend a look of sympathy, then a shrug. Cal had been victimized, and there was nothing Hank could do to help him.
It wasn’t a good thing that Hank had been left standing, uninvited to attend Code’s little media preparation party. It wasn’t a good sign for his career. Cal wasn’t a brownnoser, but he wasn’t as abrasive as Hank knew himself to be. If Cal was willing to put up with the neck-deep bull, then he would get the better positions and the better paying jobs. Trouble was, Hank, personally, would rather do without the money and the titles than deal with Code’s insufferable ego.
He watched Cal and Harry disappear and then turned back to the wolves. It always made him feel better to see them and count down the days until they would be free. Whatever else, he was involved in a project that was a good thing. The wolves belonged in the mountains. They were a part of the natural order. No matter what the area ranchers thought.
Thor greeted him with a long, examining look, then paced to the back of his cage and sat down, his back turned to Hank. The agent had grown so used to the wolf’s hard appraisal, that for a second or two he feared Thor might be sick. But the big wolf turned, casting a look over his shoulder, watching him from the portion of the cage that had been constructed to protect the animal against the weather.
Moving up to the last cage, Hank slowed. The sun had broken over the humpbacked ridge of a small mountain to the east. The hazy, golden light of morning touched everything with a warm hand, chasing away the chill of the night. At least his encounter with Code, as annoying as it was, had given the sun time to arrive. Now he could look for evidence.
At first he couldn’t believe his eyes when he looked at the area beside the cage. Then he looked with growing anger
and rage. If there had been a footprint with the owner’s name written in DNA certifiable blood, it wouldn’t have mattered. The entire area had been stomped and battered. Hank couldn’t believe that Cal would have been so careless, but Code wouldn’t have a bit more sense. Had the culprit left a map, Code’s big feet and little brain would have rendered it useless.
“Damn.” The word was explosive on Hank’s lips. “Damn it all to hell.” He moved beyond the immediate area only to find that someone had trampled everything. And that someone had feet exactly the size of Harry Code’s new wing tips. There wasn’t a trace of Cal’s running shoes. “A herd of buffalo couldn’t have done more damage,” Hank muttered.
As if he agreed, the lonely male wolf let out a howl.
SHADOE WENT THROUGHher barns a final time. All the horses were settled, even Luster, who’d been worn out from his competition and trailer ride home. He’d done beautifully, and Shadoe had the ribbons to prove it. Three people had come to offer to buy him, and those same customers had been glad to hear that she was standing his sire at stud at the Double S. It was a slow, hard way to build business, but it was finally working. Maybe in a year, by next breeding season, she’d have a respectable list of mares for Scrapiron to service.
It was her first taste of victory, and it was sweet as she walked into her house, noticing with pride that some of the flowers she’d planted in the beds had bloomed while she was gone. Spring was calling in Montana, and not a minute too soon for her.
She wanted nothing but a hot bath and bed, but she listened to her messages. There were several from her neighbors who’d stopped by to check on things. And one from Doc, who assured her the horses were fine and that Totem, the cat, was eager to come home from the kennel. He also congratulated her on her ride.
News traveled fast in Athens. She grinned at Doc’s warm message. He’d been a stalwart supporter of her dream, promising her that it wasn’t impossible, and also letting her know that her father would have been proud of her.
Midnight Prey Page 6