“I’m sure Cord has other things to occupy his time.”
“Like you.”
I spin on my heel, still clutching my sandwich and not unlocking my car, to find the man behind me. He has a classic cowboy look, blonde hair flowing over his forehead in a cute little curl. The rest is tied back in a long ponytail at his nape. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
“You might have seen me at Coyote Falls when you picked up your little girl. I’m Levi.” He holds out a hand.
I hesitate, then touch two fingers to his briefly, pretending to juggle my keys and my dinner. “Lanie. Not my daughter,” I say. Cord seems to keep most things close to his chest. But if he’s as wealthy as I suspect, that choice of personal privacy doesn’t surprise me. “Anyway, I need to be going.” I unlock my car, sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Are you coming back for the rodeo?” Levi asks conversationally, his hand propped on the door, though his grip prevents me from shutting it all the way.
“I’m not sure. Are you riding?” I fidget with my keys. My phone is on the dash. I reach for it under his watchful gaze.
“Nah, I prefer a different sort of spotlight.”
“Is it a draw for the bulls?” I have no idea how these things work, but I manage to unlock my phone, my finger poised not-so-covertly over the call button.
“S’posed to be.” He backs away finally as I tug the door closed. “Night, ma’am.”
Levi tips his hat as I pull away with a polite smile. When I hitthe road, the mirror shows him standing where I left him, watching me drive away. My sandwich scoots across the passenger seat. I sacrifice my phone for my food, grab sideways for it, manage not to run off the road, and lunge for my phone. That opens when I press my thumb to the screen. The call button comes up with Cord’s name highlighted.
I wonder if that’s what made Levi back off so fast, or maybe I’m paranoid and not used to people anymore.
Stick to the wolves, Lanie.
They’re so much easier. But staying away from Cordell Rand and Coyote Falls isn’t.
My oversized pile of handwritten notes hides everything I search for as if it has a personal vendetta against me for abandoning it the day before. I swear I saw the data for the wolf cubs I’d observed in play training—stalking and pouncing, emulating social cues from the matriarchs within the pack. Those same females helped define the early social interactions for the pups. One of the most unusual features of my pack was that the older wolves picked the youngest pups up and carried them between their den to the place where they played and trained to become fully fledged hunting and active members, particular to that pack.
I keep wondering if I’ll have a chance to observe that same encapsulated behavior elsewhere, or if it’s specific to that family structure and location.
I’d last seen those notes at least two—no, maybe three days ago. Collecting information has never been my issue. It’s just…getting it all into the programs that will collate everything neatly that sucks. I flick to my screen that shows what looks like a scribble diagram but actually tracks my wolves’ progress. If I can’t be with my pack, at least I can still see them, even if ‘seeing’ equates to colorer lines on a map of the archipelago.
Sally sits at my feet, drawing.
“If you were a few years older, you might be able to help me,” I tell her, turning the same page over twice in my hands, and know it’s not what I’m looking for. “Dammit, where is that graph—Got it. Sorry, sweetie.”
“It’s all right.” Sally holds up a picture.
I take it absently. “What’s this? Oh—” My brow crinkles as I stare at the page.
“It’s Uncle Cord’s ranch. See? That’s the house, and the barn, and when I shot Billy.”
“You get on well with all the boys there, huh?” I grin, taking in the familiar lines of Coyote Falls surrounded by paint-speckled cows in remarkable detail.
“Yep.” Sally pokes the paper in my hand.
“Those are some amazing skills, Sally.” I break off as an email alert blinks on my screen. “Give me a moment, okay?”
“I know you’re not tech-savvy,” Sally tells me, before she scampers off with her art supplies, likely in search of food.
I scan the email twice before the information settles into my stats-soaked brain. The funding body I’d applied to nearly twelve months ago hadn’t replied to my application for a further grant, which meant cutting my research short, hence moving in with Winnie. I read the entire thing a third time, and a whole lot slower.
Grant pending approval. Status update required.
My heart tugs in two directions as I make notes of the additional paperwork needed, knowing I can provide what they’re asking for. This is huge; the funding will mean the ability to return to Alaska and continue observing the pups right through their juvenile period for the next twelve to eighteen months, which I was so worried about missing.
I can return to my pups.
