Midnight Prey

by Caroline Burnes

  Totem waited patiently at the door, scooting out into the barn as Shadoe followed. Together, they distributed the feed for the horses and Shadoe went up to the pasture gate to call them in. She gave two long whistles, one short, opened the gate and walked back to the barn. They’d be along in a few minutes, eager for food and a clean stall. Curly had been as good as his word about taking care of things while she and Jill were gone.

  Shadoe stopped to stroke Scrapiron’s white blaze a minute before she went in the house to make her own meals. The stallion nuzzled her hand, then danced away at the sound of approaching hooves. He snorted with excitement, whirling around, eager to be with the herd as they came into the barn and ran straight into their stalls.

  Scrapiron’s dancing feet kicked back the clean straw and Shadoe thought for a moment she was imagining something. She unlatched his door and went inside, pushing him over to the opposite side of the stall as she booted back the hay and bent to pick up the carved bone pocketknife. She remembered the day her father had given it to Hank. His eighteenth birthday.

  Shadoe felt cold, then hot.

  She latched the door behind her as she exited the stall and stood, knife in her hand, heart racing. There was only one conclusion to draw. Hank had been in her barn. But when? And why? He’d shown up the night some intruder had turned Scrapiron free, but he never went near the stall. Had he come back? To investigate further? But she’d told him not to set foot on her property. Her fingers curled around the knife that was closed. None of it made sense.

  “We’d better call Billy,” she said, and the sound of her own voice, talking to the cat, made her feel better.

  Totem didn’t bother answering. He ran down the barn aisle toward the house and his can of savory seafood.

  Shadoe hurried up to the house, headed straight to the phone. Before she could pick it up to check with Jill and Curly to be certain Hank hadn’t stopped to see the horses while Curly was there, it rang beneath her fingers.

  “Get ready, Shadoe, there’s a television crew headed your way.” Jill’s voice tingled with excitement. “After your scene up on Stag’s Horn, the television station got my tag number and looked me up. But it’s you they want to talk to. I think we ranchers have got ourselves a spokesperson.”

  “Jill, someone was in my barn while we were gone. Did Curly see anyone?”

  “I’ll ask him.” Jill heard Shadoe’s anxiety but didn’t press. “I’ll call you back when I see him.” She hesitated a moment. “This probably isn’t the best time for you, but the camera crew really is on the way.” She sounded less certain of Shadoe’s reaction. “You will talk to them, won’t you? I told you on the way home that you were awfully impressive. You looked like a warrior taking on the cavalry.”

  “I’m not sure that’s flattering,” Shadoe said. She didn’t like the idea of television cameras. “I don’t mind being part of the movement to stop the release, but no one elected me spokesperson. I think Billy would make a better oncamera person.”

  “He can’t, he’s an elected official.”

  “Then you, or maybe John. He’s a landowner here now.”

  Something in Shadoe’s tone revealed her difficulty with that fact. “Are you angry that John bought Copperwood? I thought you’d be pleased.” Jill was clearly puzzled.

  “I’m angry he didn’t tell me and.well, the timing could have been better.”

  “Oh.” That word told Jill understood a lot more than Shadoe had said.

  “It’s not that. It’s just that Hank had come back to Lakota County, and he lost the ranch because of money, not because he wanted to give it up. When I left here, I had enough money from the insurance.it’s just hard.”

  “Yeah.” Jill sounded reserved. “Look, I see Curly. Let me ask him about visitors. You talk to the news people and at the next ranchers’ meeting we’ll decide on an official spokeswoman.”

  “Call me,” Shadoe said. She put down the phone and hesitated about calling Billy and reporting the intruder. Maybe it would be better to wait until Jill had checked with Curly.

  The decision was taken out of her hands when she heard the sound of a car coming up the rocky driveway. Looking out her front window she saw that the television crew had lost no time tracking her down.

  HANK KNEW he was in trouble by the expression on Harry Code’s face. A blue vein pulsed in his forehead, and his gray eyes were flint hard beneath his perfectly styled hair. For a split second, Hank was tempted to tell him how good he looked on television, but common sense prevailed. It was the television debacle that Harry was so mad about, and not even the three hours Hank had taken to check the perimeter of the camp had cooled Harry off. Shadoe had completely upstaged him, and he wasn’t about to forgive or forget.

  “How did that woman get up here?” Harry snapped the question.

  Hank watched his superior as he paced the tent area he’d taken over as his office-home Two biologists had been pushed out of the tent to accommodate Harry’s decision to spend a few days on location. The arrogant ass made it sound like a film shoot, which he probably thought it was.

  “Best I could tell, she walked.” Hank almost regretted his answer. Almost-until he saw the red flush across Harry’s face. Then he was glad.

  “Emnch, your attitude has kept you from advancing in the service, and I can see why. You had the reputation of a troublemaker and I took you on anyway because of your knowledge of the locale. But I won’t put up with your attitude. This time it’s going to cost you more than a promotion.”

  Hank kept his mouth shut by smiling, which infuriated Code even more.

  “You think I’m making a joke?”

  “No, sir.” Hank made it flat, toneless.

  “Good.” Code sent him a piercing look. “That woman is a known troublemaker. How did she get up here?”

  “She came with the Lakota County Sheriff, as a spokesperson for the county ranchers.” Hank kept his tone flat. The interview would end sooner if he didn’t provoke Code.

  “Billy Casper,” Code said, sounding the name as if it would tell him secrets. “You know the man, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  Code waited. “Well?”

  “Billy’s a stand-up guy. He’s been sheriffing for nearly a quarter of a century.”

  “Then you’re vouching for him?”

  Hank felt the trap, but he couldn’t see it. He could only tell the truth. “Given everything I know about Billy, and it’s a considerable amount, I’d say he was a good man and a good sheriff.”

  “He wouldn’t lie to protect someone?”

  Hank felt his temper rise. Code was having too much fun, and he couldn’t see why. “I don’t think Billy bends the law. He’s devoted his life to it.” He couldn’t resist. “In fact, when he was younger, he turned down a job working on a movie with Clint Eastwood. He didn’t want to abandon his elected duties.” Hank saw his jab had hit the target, but then Code’s giant ego would have been hard to miss.

  “You’re old friends with Billy, right?”

  Hank had had enough. He sighed as he put his hat back on his head. “I’ve got work to do, Harry. If there’s a point to these questions, get to it. If not, it’s been a pleasure talking with you.”

  Code stepped across the tent and blocked the exit. “Oh, there’s a point.” He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. “Do you know who signs your check, Emrich?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question?” Hank glanced at the paper but wouldn’t give Code the satisfaction of showing interest.

  “No, it isn’t rhetorical. It seems strange to me to see the names of Billy Casper, Shadoe Deerman and one of my agents in a written report on the same day I see the three of them at a press conference. It might make a man wonder who’s involved with whom, and what the benefits of such a liaison might be. The last time your name was on a report with a woman’s you were almost fired.”

  Now it was Hank’s turn to feel the blood rush to his face. He was angry enough to do something rash, but he
wouldn’t. Long, long ago Shadoe’s father had taught him the lesson of self-control. A lesson that had cost him dearly but one he had not forgotten. “Is there a point to this, Harry?” He spoke softly, as Jimmy Deerman had taught him.

  “What’s your relationship with Shadoe Deerman?” Code’s question was whiplash quick.

  “We went to high school together. I knew her family.”

  “That’s it?” Code pressed. “It’s all in the past?”

  “In a nutshell. That’s it.” Hank stepped to Code’s side. “Now is there anything else?”

  “Cal got a report from the sheriffs office. Shows you were at the Double S Ranch a few nights back.” Code tapped the paper against his jaw as he smiled at Hank. “That doesn’t sound too much like the past to me.”

  Hank started to respond with an angry retort, but stopped himself. Now wasn’t the place for anger. Now was the time for brains. He hadn’t told anyone about the intruder he’d been following that night, and his lack of a report was a serious breach of procedure. But reports had a tendency to get leaked, as the one in Code’s hand showed. And Hank had always felt better when he worked alone. His investigation was his. Not even Cal knew anything about it. Now he was going to pay for his solitary ways. Again.

  “I was following a lead.”

  “Not very specific,” Code said. He continued to tap the paper, his smile widening. “We’ve had a wolf poisoned, and then I find my top field agent has been visiting down the mountain with the leader of the rancher insurrection.” Code paused dramatically. “That action might be viewed by some as treasonous.”

  “And by others as solid police work.” Hank wasn’t budging.

  “I want a full report of the incident, typed and on my desk by tomorrow.”

  It wasn’t a request, it was an order, and one Hank couldn’t disobey. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” Code waved his hand, dismissing Hank. As Hank turned he felt the other man’s hand on his arm, holding him. “She’s pretty, Hank, but she’s not worth your badge.” He dropped Hank’s sleeve as if it were hot

  Hank stepped into the cool afternoon, the touch of the wind a comfort against his overheated face. Code was insufferable, but at the moment he held the upper hand. Hank set off up the steep path to where the wolves were. He felt as trapped and confined as he thought they must.

  “Hank?”

  He was so busy thinking that he almost knocked Doc Adams down. The vet caught his arm.

  “Sorry.” Hank looked down at the shorter man. “How is she?”

  “Better than I expected. I’d like to move her into a cage beside her mate.”

  “Beside him?”

  “So she can know he’s there, but I may need to get to her for the delivery of the pups. I don’t want to have to sedate him to do it. You never know how much sedative a wild animal can take before it will react negatively.”

  “You mean before it kills them.”

  “Before they quit struggling against it and give up completely.”

  It wasn’t an image that helped Hank’s mood. “We’ll move her now.”

  “Good.” Doc fell into step beside him, going back up the way he’d come. “About Copperwood.”

  “There’s nothing to say.” Even at the name of the ranch Hank felt longing, betrayal and a lingering sense of embarrassment that he had let the land slip away from him.

  “Hank, you did everything one human could do to hold that place.”

  “And it wasn’t enough.” Hank increased his pace. He didn’t want to talk about this. Why was everyone he met digging into the past?

  “I heard Shadoe was up here.” Doc grinned. “She makes quite an impact, doesn’t she?”

  Hank couldn’t resist the vet’s obvious pride in Shadoe. He was another one of the Lakota County old-timers who viewed Shadoe as a surrogate daughter. “She got under Harry’s skin.” Hank’s grin widened. “Worse than a prickly pear.”

  “That’s our girl.” Doc chuckled. “It’s been hard on her, coming back here, Hank. She’s come back to settle something inside herself. To prove something, or else to accept it. I’m not certain which. But she’s afraid. She may not show it, but she is.”

  “Is that a professional diagnosis?” Hank tried to take Doc’s talk lightly, but he was discovering that anything involving Shadoe was hard for him to take, lightly or otherwise.

  “It’s an old man’s diagnosis, looking back at how hard it was to be her age. A lot of time has passed, but surely you remember how much Shadoe loved that ranch and all the country around here. Jimmy raised her up as close to a wild thing as a human child could be. They were a part of the mountains. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Hank didn’t say a word. He remembered, and the memory cut at him. Since he’d returned to the area, there wasn’t a place that didn’t remind him of the Deerman family. In fact, Stag’s Horn, where the wolf camp was located, had been a place where he and Shadoe’s father had once thought they saw a wolf during a camp out. That was why Hank had picked the location-a tribute to Jimmy. The release of the wolves, though it distressed his daughter, would have greatly pleased Jimmy Deerman.

  Doc watched the play of memories across Hank’s face. Those past moments were painful, and deep. “You were often a part of that picture, Hank. You and Jimmy and Shadoe. We thought when she went off to school you’d go with her.”

  Hank felt the pressure of anger rising again. Twenty years had not cooled it. He had only deceived himself into thinking he was over it. “Things didn’t work out that way, Doc. Shadoe took a different course. I still had Copperwood, and I had to put everything into trying to save it. As it turned out, it was wasted effort.”

  “Jimmy’s death brought a lot of dreams tumbling down.”

  “Well, I don’t think I was cut out to be a rancher anyway. Things happen for the best.” Hank motioned the vet up to the holding pen where they’d put the female wolf. She looked even gaunter than usual, except for her belly, swollen with the cubs that were due any day. Hank watched her with a critical eye. The poison had taken a toll, but Doc Adams had done wonders. She was up, alert, pacing. Waiting to see what her human captors had in store for her next. “It’s okay, girl. You’re on the road to freedom.” Hank spoke to her softly. At the sound of his voice she stopped pacing and turned toward him, but she refused to meet him eye to eye.

  “She’s listening.” Doc nodded approval. “I think she understands the intent of your words.”

  “Jimmy always thought animals understood a lot more than they were willing to let on. He said it was part of their intelligence to trick us humans.” Hank couldn’t stop the smile that played across his face, giving him for a moment the look of an eager young boy. “Jimmy filled my head with a lot of foolishness, I guess.”

  “Foolishness?” Doc’s probe was gentle. “There’s no scientific data to show they understand. Then again, there’s nothing to prove positively they don’t.” He looked at Hank. “Now, how are we going to make the transfer?”

  Hank approached the cage. “I think we can carry her up to the pen beside her mate and just open the gate.”

  “Good idea. The less trauma the better” Doc stepped up. Together the two men lifted the cage and started out of the area up the trail to the rest of the wolves.

  Both men were breathless when they finally maneuvered the pen against the door of the cage. Hank opened the relese, lease latch, and the female shot into the larger enclosure, going straight to the heavy wire that separated her from her mate. She made a low sound in her throat, a sound of eagerness and relief.

  The male wolf put his nose to the wire and tried to lick her.

  Hank watched the sight in fascination, while the old veterinarian watched him. Doc’s expression was thoughtful.

  “If she’d died, he probably wouldn’t have adjusted,” Doc said. “Some creatures, like wolves, mate for life.”

  Hank was silent, but his hands were clenched in fists at his side. When he finally spoke, his voice w
as soft. “So much has been written about the power of love. It’s funny that no one acknowledges that it has the power to kill.”

  “Not kill, Hank. But with some species, the mating bond is more powerful than the will to live.” Doc hesitated. “I’m an old man, but I’ve seen a lot, with my animal clients and their owners. Some animals are simply meant to be to gether. Some people, too.”

  Hank turned away from him. “Let’s head back.” But he stopped short. Coming up the trail was Harry Code, his face red with anger. “Uh-oh, here comes trouble.”

  “Emrich,” Code halted ten feet away. “I just got an interesting call from an anonymous source.” He waved a sheet of white paper at Hank. “This woman called to ask me if I knew that you’ve got a personal score to settle here in Montana.”

  Hank didn’t say anything, he simply looked at his boss.

  “Well?” Harry was furious.

  “Well what?” Hank said.

  “Is it true?”

  Hank swallowed the angry reply that came to him. “You knew I was from this area. That’s why you asked for me.”

  “I didn’t know that you’d lost your ranch up here.”

  “That was a long time ago, and it has nothing to do with what’s happening now.” Hank’s dark eyes narrowed. “I don’t see where that’s any of your concern.”

  “Everything that affects this project is my concern.” Code stepped closer. “Let me warn you right now that you’d better not have a personal stake in this issue. You’ve been in trouble before, but this time it will be your badge, and maybe your freedom.”

  Chapter Seven

  Shadoe cinched the girth on Scrapiron with a sense of overwhelming relief. Ever since her interview with the television station the day before, her phone had not stopped nnging. Even her mother in West Palm Beach had somehow heard about her appearance on the six o’clock news and called her—with all the dire warnings and predictions of disaster because of Shadoe’s return to Montana. The mention of Shadoe in the same breath with the word wolf had sent her mother into a three-martini breakdown.