Sharp Shootin' Cowboy (Hot Cowboy Nights, #3)(75)

In the first week he’d caught four wolves in traps and shot two others. Problem was, he didn’t feel right about it. Killing wolves purely to increase the elk population for hunters was doing the wrong thing for all the wrong reasons. And now that he’d faced up to his self-centered and petty motives for taking the job, the question remained of what he was going to do about it. Should he stay on and finish the contract or head back home to possible felony charges?

All things considered, it was a no-brainer.

Tomorrow he’d collect the remaining traps, pack up his shit, and go back to face the music.

*

Haley awoke just before dawn to a chorus of howling wolves. She lay in her sleeping bag for the longest time just listening. Although the lupine choir aggravated Jethro, their proximity didn’t instill any fear in Haley. She found an odd sort of comfort in it. Wolves were her whole life, or had been for the last five years.

She wondered what would happen to her now that she’d quit her job. Teaching didn’t appeal. No doubt Jeffrey would do his best to blackball her anyway. Perhaps this was the ideal time to pursue research full time? All she needed to do was secure enough funding. And fund-raising was her particular talent.

Jethro nudged her out of her ruminations. With wolves so close, she leashed him before exiting the tent. His natural instinct would be to track them, so she’d have to keep him close. A pack would rip a dog to shreds in an instant. Wolves’ hunting style was the one thing about them she could never completely reconcile. Other predators killed their prey before eating them.

Wolves ate them alive.

After a quick breakfast of granola bars and powdered milk, she bathed in the frigid river, dressed, cleaned up the campsite, and prepared to depart. “C’mon, Jethro. You have a job to do.”

Pulling one of Reid’s T-shirts from her pack, she let the dog get his fill of his scent. She paused, shirt in hand, purely to indulge her own senses. Shutting her eyes, she drank in his musky essence with a deep sniff that sent a ripple of desire coursing through her. But the T-shirt was no substitute for the real thing. Not even close. She had a lot of things to say when she found him, but talking wouldn’t necessarily be her first priority.

*

Having made his decision to leave, Reid set out early to collect his traps. He’d laid out over a dozen in areas where he’d seen signs of wolves and had filled almost half of them the first week. Once he’d gathered them all, he planned to work his way toward the supply drop site on the river. He’d be over a week early, but planned to make the best of his situation on a river heavily populated with fish. Although it was too late in the season for steelhead, he had an excellent chance of landing a Chinook salmon. At least he’d eat well while waiting for the boat to arrive.

Unlike all the others he’d collected, the last trap wasn’t empty when Reid arrived. A young wolf greeted him, growling and snarling with hackles raised.

Shit. He hadn’t planned on taking any more, but the deed was half done already. Dismounting from his horse, he unsheathed his rifle and approached by foot. “This just isn’t your lucky day now, is it?” Reid raised the gun with a resigned sigh and took aim.

The wolf went silent, staring him down with its intense golden eyes.

His finger relaxed on the trigger. He lowered the rifle with a shake of his head.

He just couldn’t do it. He was finished.

“Looks like I was wrong. You’re one lucky bastard after all.”

*

Haley always carried a compass and a GPS, but neither did much good when you didn’t even know your destination. She’d set out in a general northeasterly direction, but the dog had yet to show any sign of picking up Reid’s scent.

Growing thirsty and frustrated, Haley dropped her pack and sat on a stump to rehydrate. She had the bottle poised to drink when Jethro began circling, whining, and pulling on the leash. She froze at a sound in the near distance. A bark? Was it a dog? She listened more intently, recognizing the lower-pitched, shorter bark of a single wolf.

Was it injured? Or maybe trapped? She couldn’t risk her life over it, but also couldn’t ignore it without investigating. Haley took quick inventory. She had bear spray, but that was iffy with wolves. She also had her tranquilizer gun and a few darts, but drugging took time. Provided she could keep him from harm, Jethro was her best defense.

She relaxed her tight grip on the leash. Given encouragement, the dog let out a howl and then half led, half dragged Haley through a quarter mile of brush and brambles.

She spotted the horse and mules first. Reid? It had to be him.

At the sight of its master, Jethro let out a howl and jerked wildly on the leash, yanking it completely out of her hand. Haley stumbled after him.

Reid spun around, freezing with a look of abject shock. For several seconds he didn’t move, speak, or even bat an eye.

“Reid!” she gasped, breathless from the chase. “I can’t believe we found you.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. Why do you think I would have come?”

“I don’t know. Maybe to take pictures of me brutally slaughtering wolves?” One brow rose above a stare that gave her chills. His tone was equally glacial. “Or did you bring a whole film crew with you this time?”

Her heart, filled to the brim with joy only a minute ago, sank deep into her stomach. But how could she blame him after what happened? Of course that’s what he’d think.