Sharp Shootin' Cowboy (Hot Cowboy Nights, #3)(48)

The waitress left menus behind while she went to fill the drink order.

“You’ve changed. The glasses. The hair,” he remarked. It was still the same pale blonde, but shorter, barely brushing her shoulders.

“I’m not twenty anymore,” she said. “I needed a more sophisticated, less coed look. When you’re as short as I am, it’s hard to be taken seriously to begin with, so I cut my hair and started wearing glasses again.” She slid them off her face and set them on the table. “I really only need them for reading.”

Her eyes were the deep sea green he so vividly recalled. They softened as her gaze met his. She seemed less certain of herself now. More vulnerable. Yeah, she felt it brewing too. It was only a matter of time, but if it happened again, it would have to be on his terms.

“Reid, I wanted to ask you something. Who were those two men this afternoon?”

“The ones who harassed you?” He’d hoped this wouldn’t come up, but supposed it was inevitable.

“Yeah. Can you tell me anything about them?”

“The older one is a founding member of the Outfitters Association, and the younger is his son, the chairman of the Wolf Coalition.”

“The group countersuing the Wolf Recovery Alliance? No wonder they were so hostile,” she remarked dryly. “What are their names? I’d like to know precisely who I’m dealing with.”

He heaved a sigh. “Boyd and Jared Everett.”

“Everett.”

“Yup. My father and my brother.”

“So that’s why they backed off when you intervened.”

“Yes, but it was only a reprieve. They’re going to win this time, Haley. All you activists can continue to fight in the courts, but you’re eventually going to lose in Wyoming. It’s only a matter of time. You’ll never sway public opinion to your side here. Trust me on this, there’s nothing you can do to stop the delisting.”

“But we can certainly delay it. Our lawyers are already seeking another injunction.” Haley jutted her jaw. “You aren’t doing enough to protect the wolves.”

“You’ve got to at least try to understand where the people here are coming from. We’re traditionalists who depend too much on our lands and herds to make our living. We can’t protect your wolves at the cost of feeding our families.”

“You all want to cast all the blame for the herd decline on the wolves when the facts are—”

“Facts?” he repeated. “Let’s just stick to bare facts, shall we? How many wolves are there in Wyoming?”

“It’s hard to estimate. They move around.”

“Then give me your best guess.”

“Our last report stated 320 known wolves in Wyoming.”

“Wasn’t the recovery goal a hundred?”

“That’s the minimum number for recovery,” she insisted.

“Yet you’re telling me we have over three times that number.”

“But if you start killing them—”

He raised a hand. “Hold your rebuttal until you hear me out, Haley. Still sticking to facts, what is their primary food source?”

“Ungulates. Mostly deer, elk, occasionally moose calves.”

“How many kills does a wolf need to make in a year to survive?”

She chewed her lip. “About twenty, I guess. Maybe twenty-five.”

“So a wolf population of one hundred would kill about two thousand, maybe twenty-five hundred elk a year?”

“I suppose so.”

“But we have over three hundred wolves killing twenty to twenty-five elk apiece. That’s close to eight thousand elk in a single year, Haley. I’m no math genius, but it seems to me that accounts for a big chunk of the decline.”

“But there are other predators and other factors than wolves,” she argued.

“I don’t dispute that, but those other factors only contribute further to the decreasing elk numbers, and we haven’t even touched on livestock yet. You see why people are hurting? Why they’re hostile? They’re watching everything they’ve worked for all their lives go down the tubes just to satisfy the conservationists who want to watch wolf pups romp at the national parks. Problem is, the wolves don’t stay in the parks.”

“You’re oversimplifying everything,” she insisted. “The issue is much more complicated than that.”

“Is it? I don’t think so. Why are you really here?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It was a job.”

“You already had one, didn’t you? With one of those conservation groups?”

“I was an assistant professor of wildlife conservation studies at the university, and yes, I also helped fund-raise for a conservation group.”

“So why are you here?” he repeated.

“Truth?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He sat back. “Truth.”

She sighed. “I was getting tired of all the politics and wanted to get back to fieldwork. All the money I’ve helped raise seems to be going into lawyers’ pockets instead of toward what really matters. I thought this job would allow me to get back to what I love.”

“But it’s also landed you right smack in the middle of a minefield.”