Black Hills (25 page)

“Check the rest on your cameras. Let’s go through the offices. If they’re clear, you can set up there, check your animals.”

“Willy’s going to let us open the gates, isn’t he? Let my people in.”

“Shouldn’t be long.”

“I didn’t get a good look at the wolf. It was good size, so I’d say full-grown. To take one down like that . . . Maybe it wasn’t with a pack. A lone wolf’s easier prey. He wants me upset, off-balance, to throw this place into upheaval. I took my share of psych courses,” she said when Coop only studied her face. “I know what he’s doing. Not why, but what. I could lose some volunteers, even some interns over this sort of thing. Our intern program is essential, so I’m going to be doing some fast, hard talking at our emergency staff meeting today.”

She unlocked the cabin that held the offices. Coop nudged her aside, pushed the door open. The area appeared to be clear. He stepped in, swept it, then moved from space to space to do the same.

“Stay in here, use the computer. I’ll check the other buildings. Give me the keys.”

She said nothing, only passed them to him. When he left her she sat and waited for the computer to boot up.

She’d known he’d been a cop. But she’d never
seen
him be one until today.

He’d thought he understood what went on in the refuge. But he realized he hadn’t considered the full extent of the work even after Lil had given him an overview. The commissary alone was an eye-opener, with its enormous coolers and freezers, its massive amounts of meat, and the equipment required for processing it, handling it, hauling it.

The stables held three horses, including the one he’d sold her. Since he was there, he saw to their feeding and watering, and marked off both chores on the chart posted on the wall.

He checked the equipment shed, the garage, and the long, low cabin posted as the education center. He took a quick scan of the displays inside, the photographs, the pelts, teeth, skulls, bones—where the hell did she get those?

Fascinating, he thought as he checked both restrooms, and each stall inside. He walked through the small attached gift shop with its stuffed animals, T-shirts, sweatshirts, caps, postcards, and posters. Everything tidy and organized.

She’d built something here. Saw to the details, the angles. And all of it, he knew, all of it, for the animals.

As he backtracked he heard the sound of cars, and headed around to meet the sheriff.

“Everything’s fine here. She’s in the offices,” he said to Tansy, then turned to Willy.

“Looks like he decided to hole up after all,” Willy said. “We can’t be sure it wasn’t somebody else, and they just happened to pick that gate. Or somebody got the bright idea because of the cougar. But the fact is hunting wolves is illegal around here, and people know it. Know the trouble they’ll get into for it. Now, a farmer shooting one that’s after his lifestock’s one thing. But I know every farmer in this county, and I can’t see any one of them hauling the body up here like this. Even the ones who think Lil’s a little on the odd side.”

“The bullets in that wolf are going to be from the same gun that shot the cougar.”

“Yeah, I expect they are.” With a nod, Willy folded his lips tight. “I’m going to be talking to the Park Service, and the state boys. You might do some talking yourself. Maybe somebody going on the trail, using your outfit or one of the others, saw somebody, saw something.”

He looked over as Lil came out. “Morning. Sorry about this trouble. Your vet around?”

“He’ll be here shortly.”

“I’m going to leave a man, same as before. We’re going to do what we can, Lil.”

“I know, but there’s not much you can do.” She came down the steps. “One cougar, one wolf. It’s bad, but it’s a hard world. And those two species may be romanticized in other places, but not here, not where they might wander down from the hills and take down a man’s cattle or ravage a henhouse. I understand that, Willy, I live in reality. My reality is I have thirty-six animals, not including the horses, spread over about thirty-two acres of habitat and facilities. And I’m afraid he’s going to decide to bring it here, that’s what he hinted at today. And he’s going to kill one of the animals that live here, that I brought here. Or worse, one of the people who work here, who I brought here.”

“I don’t know what I can say to ease your mind.”

“There’s nothing, that’s where he’s holding the advantage right now. My mind can’t be eased. But we have work to do here. We’ll keep doing it. I’ve got six interns who need to finish our program. There’s a group of eight- to twelve-year-olds coming in this morning, in about two hours, to take the tour and a session in the education center. If you tell me you don’t think those kids will be safe, I’ll cancel.”

“I’ve got no reason to think a man who kills a wild animal’s going to start taking potshots at kids, Lil.”

“Okay. Then we’ll all just do whatever we can do. You should go,” she said to Coop. “You have your own business, your own animals to see to.”

“I’ll be back. You may want to make up that list.”

She looked blank for a moment, then shook her head. “That’s not my top priority just now.”

“Your choice.”

“Yes. It will be. Thanks, Willy.”

Willy pursed his lips as she went back in the office. “I have a feeling the two of you were talking about something other than a dead wolf. Since I do, I’m thinking you’ll be staying here tonight.”

“That’s right.”

“I feel better knowing that. Meanwhile, I’m going to have some men scout around the area, check the other gates, look for weak spots. He’s holed up somewhere,” Willy muttered, looking out toward the hills.

 

 

 

LIL KNEW word would spread, and quickly, so it didn’t surprise her when her parents arrived. She walked away from the immobilized tiger to the habitat fence. “Just an ingrown claw. It’s a common problem.” She reached up to touch the fingers her mother slid through the fence. “I’m sorry you have to be worried.”

“You talked about going down to Florida for a couple weeks, working with that panther refuge. You should do that.”

“For a few days,” Lil corrected. “Next winter. I can’t go now. I especially can’t go now.”

“You could come back home until they find him.”

“Who do I put here in my place? Mom, who do I tell I’m too afraid to stay here, so you do it?”

“Anybody who isn’t my baby.” Jenna gave Lil’s fingers a squeeze. “But you can’t, and you won’t.”

“Cooper stayed here last night?” Joe asked her.

“He slept on the living room sofa. He wouldn’t leave, and now I’m forced to be grateful he wouldn’t let me kick him out of my own house. I have any number of people pushing to stay. We’re taking all the precautions we can, I promise. I’m going to order more cameras, use them for security. I’ve looked at alarm systems, but we just can’t afford the type that would cover the place. No,” she said even as Joe started to speak. “You know you can’t afford it either.”

“What I can’t afford is anything happening to my daughter.”

“I’m going to make sure nothing does.” She glanced back to where Matt worked on the tiger. “I need to finish up here.”

“We’ll go back to the compound, see if anyone can use some extra hands.”

“Always.”

 

 

 

FROM HIS POSITION on high ground, through the lenses of his field glasses, he watched the family group. Observing prey was essential, learning the habits, the territory, the dynamics, strengths. Weaknesses.

Patience was another essential. He could admit that the—occasional—lack of it was one of his weaknesses. Temper had been another. Temper had cost him eighteen months inside when it had pushed him to beat a man half to death in a bar.

But he’d learned to control his temper, to remain calm and objective. To use the kill for personal satisfaction.

Never in heat, never in rage. Cold and cool.

The cougar had been impulse. It was there, and he’d wanted to know what it was like to kill the wild thing eye-to-eye. He’d been disappointed. The lack of challenge, the lack of
the hunt
equaled no personal satisfaction.

It had, he was forced to admit, brought him a mild sense of shame.

He’d had to offset that by letting his temper out—just a little—and destroying the camp. But he’d done so precisely, and that was important. He’d done so in a way that sent a message.

Lil. Lillian. Dr. Chance. She was so interesting. He’d always thought so. Look at her with her family unit—there, a definite weakness.

It might be satisfying to use that against her. Fear added to the thrill of the hunt. He wanted her to fear. He’d learned how much more it meant when the fear came with it. And he believed it would be more exciting to scent hers, as he’d seen she didn’t fear easily.

He would make her fear.

He respected her, and her bloodline. Even if she did not respect her ancestry. She defiled it with this place, these cages where the free and wild were imprisoned. This sacred place of his people—and hers.

Yes, he would make her fear.

She’d be an excellent addition to his count. His biggest prize to date.

He replaced his binoculars, shimmied back from the ridge before he rose. He hefted his light pack, and stood in the late-winter sunlight, fingering the necklace of bear teeth around his neck. The single thing he’d kept of his father’s.

His father had taught him of the ancestry, and the betrayals. He’d taught him how to hunt and how to live on the holy land. How to take what he needed without remorse, without regret.

He wondered what he would take, and keep, from Lil after the kill.

Satisfied with the day’s scouting, he began his hike back to his den, where he would plan the next step of the game.

13

Lil was about to prep for the evening feeding when Farley arrived. He came on horseback, looking like a man who could sit easy all day in the saddle if that was required.

It struck her, as it never had before, how alike he and Coop were in that single area. A couple of city kids who’d morphed into cowboys. Who looked, when they were in the saddle, as if they’d been born there.

And there, she supposed, the similarity ended. Farley was open and easygoing, Coop closed and difficult.

Or maybe that was just her perspective on them.

She turned to Lucius.

“Why don’t you go keep an eye on things in the commissary? I’ll be right along.”

She walked over to meet Farley and give his horse Hobo a pat on the cheek. “Hello, boys.”

“Hi there, Lil. Got ya something.” He pulled the clutch of pink-and-white daisies peeking their tops out of his saddlebag.

Pleasure and surprise bloomed in equal parts. “You brought me flowers?”

“I thought maybe you could use a little brightening up.”

She looked at them—sweet, fresh, and yes, bright. And she smiled. Smiling, she crooked her finger to signal him to lean over.

His rubber grin stretched when she planted a loud kiss on his cheek. Then she cocked an eyebrow. “Are those daffodils I see sticking out of your saddlebag?”

“Sure look like daffodils to me.”

Lil patted his ankle affectionately. “She’s touring a group who came in a while ago. The father’s a big fan of
Deadwood
. The TV thing. So they made the trip to see it, after doing Rushmore, and heard about us in town. He thought the kids would get a charge.”

“Bet they will.”

“They’d be about halfway around now, if you want to catch up.”

“Guess I will. Lil, I can bunk here tonight if you want.”

“Thanks, Farley, but I’m covered.”

“Yeah, I heard.” His cheeks pinked a little when she stared at him. “I mean to say Joe said how Coop was likely staying around. To keep an eye out. It eases your pa’s mind knowing that,” he added.

“Which is why I’m allowing it. Tell Tansy we’re about to start the evening feeding. The family from Omaha is going to get more bang for their buck.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Farley?” She gave Hobo another rub as she looked up into Farley’s face. “You and Tansy are two of my favorite people in the world. You’re family to me, so I’m going to say what I think.”

His face went carefully blank. “All right, Lil.”

“Good luck.”

His smile flickered, then expanded. “I guess I need it.”

He trotted off, bolstered. He set store by Lil’s opinion, so her approval—it seemed approval to him—meant a lot. Whistling a little, he traveled the loop of the path out of the compound and around the first enclosures.

The ground rose and fell as nature would have it. Outcroppings of rocks jutted up—some had been there since God knew, and some Lil had put in. Trees speared and spread, offering shade and opportunities for climbing, for scratching. Even as he rode by, one of the bobcats stretched out, sharpening his claws on the bark of a pine.

He spotted the trolley they used for groups around the bend and across the flat, but resisted the urge to nudge Hobo into a gallop. When he reached them they stood outside the tiger habitat watching the big cat yawn, roll, and stretch in a way that told Farley he’d just awakened from a nap.

Probably knew it was coming on suppertime.

“Howdy, folks.” He tapped a finger to the brim of his hat. “Lil said I should tell you it’s feeding time,” he told Tansy.

“Thank you, Farley. Excluding those in the petting zoo, the animals here at the refuge are nocturnal. We feed them in the evening, as it reinforces their natural hunting instincts.”

She used what Farley thought of as her “official” voice. He could listen to it all day long.

“We process hundreds of pounds of meat every week in our commissary. The staff and interns prepare the meat, primarily chicken, which is generously donated by Hanson’s Foods. You really timed your visit well today, because watching feeding time is an experience. You’ll see first-hand the power of the animals here at Chance Wildlife Refuge.”