Undercover in Conard County Read online

  “Thanks, Kel.”

  “For what?” He smiled again, a dim smile.

  “For being so honest about something you’d probably rather not discuss.”

  At that he just shook his head. “No reason not to discuss it. The world is full of wounded souls, not just veterans. We all need to look out for each other. Now will you please eat? It’s already eight, and I’m sure you haven’t eaten in hours.”

  “Not since breakfast,” she admitted and lifted the wedge of sandwich she had dropped. “And I do love BLTs.”

  “Then eat. I need to as well.”

  He went and got the other takeout box and dug into it as if it was the only thing he was interested in.

  Somehow she doubted it. With Kel, she felt he was always thinking about something. But then, she did the same thing.

  “A guy shot two deer this morning,” she said.

  He looked up and swallowed. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Weird. He said it was an accident, but from the evidence Jos and I found, it doesn’t look like it. What I don’t get is why he reported it. He had nothing to gain. Doesn’t even get the extra meat if it was an accident.”

  “Nope,” he agreed. “That’s strange all right. So you thinking someone else might have been there? That he’s covering?”

  “Maybe so. I just can’t imagine why.”

  “Another mystery,” he remarked as he resumed eating.

  Desi glanced his way from time to time, feeling much better now. It was as if a boil inside her had been lanced, just by owning up to what was disturbing her. She needed to remember that for the future. Sometimes self-protective silence wasn’t the answer.

  Kel had begun working on his second sandwich, but suddenly looked up. “Did you ever get any help? After your rape, I mean? Or were you all alone?”

  She stiffened. What right did he have to ask? Then she forced herself to be honest because he’d been so honest with her. “No. I spent two days crying and then I felt ashamed. I didn’t want to tell anybody.”

  “So he got off?”

  “I doubt he was able to walk for another week.”

  That drew a genuine laugh from Kel. The sound of it made Desi smile. Okay, they could handle this. It would all work somehow.

  * * *

  Several hundred miles away, a phone rang. The ponytailed man closed his office door and answered. “Yeah.”

  “It’s me,” said a familiar voice. “One of my guys met the new outfitter working out of Conard City.”

  “Hell, that’s good hunting.” And no surprise to him.

  “I know. Anyway, we need to do some more checking, but he says he’s already got two clients and is looking for more. Price negotiable.”

  “Be careful and be sure. Got a call from Hugh yesterday. One of his men found another new outfitter operating around the Bighorn Mountains. I don’t know if these two guys are together or not. And if they turn out to be legit, we’ve got to leave them alone.”

  “I get it,” said the voice on the phone. “But negotiable prices doesn’t sound legitimate to me.”

  The ponytailed man agreed. After he hung up, he spent a long time staring at the huge state map on his wall, marked up to show the best places to hunt this fall.

  Negotiable prices meant trouble for all of them. If this guy kept it up too long, there’d be a price war.

  Someone was going to have to move out, and it wasn’t going to be the ponytailed man or his business associates. They were all certain of that, but the ponytail man was more certain because he had sources. He had some control over this mess.

  Four years as a sniper had taught the ponytailed man that it was no harder to kill a man than it was to kill game. He could do it.

  And he didn’t especially care if he needed to.

  * * *

  After they finished eating, Kel helped Desi move the two deer into another freezer and tag them.

  “Both bullet wounds are through and through,” he remarked as they wrapped the remains in more plastic. “How likely is that?”

  “Not. Jos and I checked the trajectory of both wounds and they don’t add up to one bullet either. But straight through the second deer? I suppose weirder things have happened.”

  “Maybe with a cannon,” he said. “No, you’re right, it’s possible. Unlikely, but possible. I’m long past thinking anything is impossible. Still.”

  She closed and locked the freezer putting a label on the outside of it. Every hunting season, what with one thing and another, they often filled these freezers before cases traveled through the courts and the meat could be donated.

  She locked the shed behind them, then they climbed the stairs again. The night wind was getting stronger and colder. Whispers of winter carried on its breath. At the top landing, she stopped and looked back toward the mountains. They were barely visible against the night sky, just a darker presence against the stars. No lights. She’d been watching every evening, checking periodically for fires or bright lights. All quiet, evidently.

  The moon would come up later, and it was fast approaching full. A hunter’s moon. She just hoped no hunters were planning to take advantage of it.

  She heard a yip and yowl, soon accompanied by others. “Coyotes,” she remarked. “They don’t usually come so close to town.”

  “Any reason they would tonight?”

  She shook her head and turned to open the door. “Nothing I’m aware of. They seem to find enough food without human pets or garbage. I guess we’ll find out if we’re growing a problem.”

  “Anybody around here trap them?”

  She lifted a brow at him as he closed the door behind them. “What do you think?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Of course.”

  She nodded and pulled her vest off. “There are some people who run trap lines as a business to augment their income. The pelts are worth a little. And if a rancher starts having a problem with them, he might put a bounty on them. But you know that.”

  She was rambling, telling him stuff he had to already know. Well, talking about coyote trappers had to be safer than anything else that came to mind. It helped her keep a distance, and she needed distance, something she was only beginning to realize.

  As usual she went to close the curtains on the front window, open to anyone who drove by on the road out front. For the first time, she wondered why she did that. There wasn’t that much traffic. No one would be able to see very far into the apartment from the road so far below, but she did it anyway. Her desire for distance?

  Regardless, she closed them, telling herself that quirk or not, it might be best until they settled the whole issue of the illegal outfitters. As for the rest of it...well, she had most of her life left to deal with whether she was screwed up or just overly cautious.

  Distance could be a good thing. Don’t let anyone inside the gates until you really knew him or her. Sensible rule.

  But why Kel’s presence was bringing all this out...she squirmed inwardly. Was he somehow striking her as special? The sexual attraction she felt was a constant hum, but she was doing a fairly good job of keeping it in the background. She guessed she was still uncomfortable feeling that way about any man.

  Big deal. He’d find his bad guys—or not—and move on again. All she had to do was survive a few days or weeks without doing something stupid.

  She could do that, right?

  Kel spoke and she realized she had been standing staring at the curtains she had just closed.

  “Desi?”

  “Sorry, lost in thought.” She turned slowly. He was still sitting casually in the chair, legs loosely crossed, but nothing diminished his impact. It felt brand new and fresh all over again. Dang! Such a sweet ache, one she had almost forgotten.

  One she usually quashed imme
diately, but this time she seemed unable to make it go away. She considered just going to her room, but it was a small room, designed only for sleeping, really. Not a small cave full of things she could do to occupy herself. Spartan, in fact, with one lamp, a tinny clock radio and small TV, a phone and a rocking chair squeezed into a corner. She’d tried to read in there, but the light was miserable.

  So no, she wasn’t ready for that confinement. Nor would it do any good. She had to work with Kel for a while, so she’d just better get used to it.

  She returned to the sofa. “So you think you might have had a contact today?”

  “Can’t be sure,” he admitted. “Still, it felt like I was being sounded out, and not as a guide. I mean, if you were going to hire me, wouldn’t you want to know what I had to offer? If you were asking for a friend, you’d have at least some of those questions, right?”

  “You’d think so. But it may have been so spur-of-the-moment he didn’t have any questions.”

  “He seemed to want to know if my price was negotiable. Then he walked away when I said it was, and someone in the diner remarked he wasn’t from around here.”

  He’d already told her that part and now eyed her curiously. She wondered if he guessed she was struggling to find safe ground. He probably did after their frank discussion about triggers and flashbacks. He didn’t question the direction she took, however, and that was fine by her.

  “I feel a little raw,” she finally said. She owed him something after the way she had cold-shouldered him.

  “I’m not surprised.”

  She believed him. “It’s been more than ten years, Kel. I ought to be way past this.”

  “Sure. Right.” He sighed. “If only the mind was that malleable. We’d all erase our bad memories and move on in eternal sunshine.”

  She curled her legs under her, leaning against the arm of the couch. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Pie in the sky.”

  “We can dream, can’t we?” He leaned forward, uncrossing his knees and resting his elbows on them. “The thing is, I keep reminding myself that we’re the sum of our experiences, good and bad. I’m not sure I’d want to erase everything. Some of it, yes, but not all of it. If bad memories do nothing else, maybe they can make us more compassionate. I hope they can. Maybe they give us a little insight to what someone else is suffering.”

  She nodded slowly, uncertain what she thought. She hadn’t exactly been moving mountains of compassion since Joe. No, she’d decided to expend her efforts by saving fish and animals, by protecting the entire ecology for future generations. Not exactly compassion.

  “Like you,” he said, surprising her. “How many civilians do you think I feel comfortable talking about my PTSD with? I stick with veterans’ support groups when it comes to that. I don’t expect to be understood by anyone else. But there you are, experiencing it in your own way, and I felt I could share with you. And you understood.”

  “Some of it,” she said hesitantly. “I don’t understand where you’ve been.”

  “And I won’t talk about it for that very reason. But you understand some of what it did to me. I appreciate that.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, considering his words. He’d made her feel special. He’d forged a link in a bridge they might be able to cross, at least about one thing, a very private thing as he said. Amazingly, that made her feel better. “Thanks, Kel.”

  “No thanks needed. All we did was give each other some room to breathe.”

  An interesting way to look at it, but accurate. Room to breathe. A tightness in her had begun to ease while they talked. Slowly she unfolded her arms, uncoiled and went to the kitchen to get more coffee as hers had grown cold. “Want some fresh?” she asked.

  “Thanks.” He rose and joined her in the small space, dumping the dregs in his cup down the sink. While she filled it for him he asked, “Think you’ll get any calls tonight?”

  “Probably not. Right now we don’t have any reason to maintain a night patrol. No signs of illegal baiting or anything else that might cause us to stake out the woods. It’s mostly quiet.” Maybe too quiet, she thought. If there was one thing you could say with reasonable certainty about human nature, it was that there were a lot of people who seemed to want to get away with something.

  Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a quiet night every now and then during hunting season.

  Kel returned to the chair, and she followed a few seconds later with her own mug, this time sitting with her feet on the floor and her coffee on the table in reach.

  “So dawn patrol in the morning?” he asked.

  “Yeah, unless something happens tonight.” She gave him an inquisitive look. “You have no idea how long you might have to wait before your plan works...if it works. Doesn’t the waiting bother you?”

  “I have a long experience of waiting. It doesn’t bother me like it used to. But I have things to do. For example, I found a small storefront I may rent. I need a place that isn’t here at your station to make me look like I really am setting up business.”

  She blinked, astonished. “You’re going to put a sign up out front?”

  He laughed. “Hell no. But I need an address, a place for people to reach me, to make it look like I’m settling in. I may appear to be buttering you up, but I can’t run my illicit hunting business out of your place. Man, wouldn’t that cause people to turn tail? So no, I need a business front, and I think I found the place. Small, cramped, just enough room to throw around some camping supplies, a few hunting rifles and shotguns...make it look like I’m set to be a guide.”

  Holding her cup, she leaned back and thought about it. It made sense, she supposed. He could appear to be pursuing her at night and working by day. “Do men really think women are that stupid?”

  He stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “That you could sweet talk me into not doing my job to the best of my ability. Do men think it’s really possible that a female warden would look the other way because some guy is romancing her?”

  “Some would certainly,” he answered straightly. “Not all of us think that way. I certainly don’t, but some guys...well, I admit I suggested making it look like I was getting on your good side. It’s the kind of thing some con would try. That’s not me. I have greater respect for a woman’s intelligence.”

  “So don’t hold the idea against you?” she asked, sourly amused.

  “Absolutely. I know how some guys think. Doesn’t mean I’m the same.”

  Fair enough, she decided. Glancing at the clock she saw it was past nine. “Time for me to hit the sack. I need to be on the road before sunup. The TV works, by the way, but we have limited channels. No sports package.”

  He shook his head. “TV’s not my thing. Mind if I read a book?” He indicated the bookshelves.

  “Help yourself. It’s an eclectic collection. I think every warden who ever lived here left some volumes behind.”

  When she rose, he rose with her, then surprised her by touching her arm lightly. He might as well have hooked her up to an electrical current. Her whole body started vibrating. She hardly dared look at him for fear of what he might see in her face.

  “Desi? Any way I can help, just let me know.”

  “I think your plate is already full enough,” she answered. “But thank you.”

  Then she strode off to her bed, eager to escape the ghosts from her past that he seemed to be resurrecting.

  Or maybe he was waking something new. Either way, she didn’t want it.

  Chapter 6

  Kel heard Desi wake while it was still dark outside. A glance at the battered digital alarm clock beside the bed advised him that dawn was still a couple of hours away. She hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep.

  He stood and stretched, listening to joints pop as they loosened up. A few
more stretches and he felt ready. He flipped on the light in the bunk room and pulled on some casual Western clothes that looked as if they’d seen better days. They had.

  He was glad he and Desi had talked last night. There was a bit of comfort between them now, and considering that they were nearly strangers, they’d managed to cover some difficult ground. For both of them.

  Most people just didn’t get how PTSD could make you react sometimes, how it could throw you back in time so that you were hardly aware of where you were, or could make you irritable and angry for no good reason. It was almost as if your own skin didn’t feel quite right anymore.

  He jammed his feet into hiking boots, tied them quickly, then stepped out into Desi’s side of the upstairs. He found her in the kitchen scrambling some eggs, making some toast. The aroma of coffee drew him.

  “Morning,” he said.

  She looked up from the stove. “Morning.”

  “Get enough sleep?”

  “Enough,” she answered. “Barely.”

  “I kinda thought so.”

  “What are you doing up? You could sleep a few more hours. There’s not gonna be anyone around to rent you that storefront this early.”

  He leaned against the counter. He liked looking at her, he noted as he watched her finish making her breakfast. If he’d met her under other circumstances, he’d be trying like mad to get her attention in a different way. Instead he answered her question. “Do you have any idea how uncomfortable those cots are? And you’re talking to a man who can sleep like a baby on rocky ground.”

  He watched everything about her change in the instant before she cracked a laugh. “That bad? Really?”

  God, he wished she’d smile more. “I’m not sure why, but yes. Maybe I just don’t move enough.”

  She lifted the pan from the stove, and turned to him with it. “You want these eggs? I can make more.”

  “Thanks but it’s too early for me. I’ll get something later. You pack a lunch?”

  “Already done. Ham and Swiss on rye.” She scraped the scrambled eggs onto a plate and he could see she’d added something green, probably peppers, and cheese. She’d also made herself four slices of rye toast. It looked good.