Chapter 9

9

Maisy would never tire of the view of Tanner hiking in front of her.

She tromped in the fallen leaves along the river path behind him, a day's worth of game over her shoulder, and a day's worth of trappings over his. Glistening in the late-afternoon sunshine, the river flowed a dozen paces away, its rushing sound playing a melody with the rustling of the branches and the remaining leaves in the trees.

Tanner strode with a certainty and purpose she couldn't keep from admiring. And of course, she couldn't keep from also admiring his muscular back and shoulders. His fringed leather coat was taut across his arms, especially where he held his rifle. As he scanned the woodland with his keen gaze, she got glimpses of his profile—his angular jaw and cheeks, his perfect nose, and his scruffy, unshaven face. At certain times, when he held his chin higher or his shoulders straight, she could picture him as a wealthy gentleman. There was just something in his bearing that had always made her think he didn't quite belong here.

They'd traipsed around the wilderness for the past three days, and those three days had turned out to be the best of her life.

She was used to gathering food and hunting alone, so when Tanner had suggested they work together, she'd been hesitant. But she'd quickly realized just how much she loved spending the long hours with him. They'd hiked many miles each day, resetting his traps and then searching for food.

They'd always ended their days in time to return to the cabin and dress their game. Then she'd fixed them supper while he'd cleaned their guns. Afterward, they'd played cards, and once she was in bed and he was on his pallet, he read to her until she started yawning.

She'd tried to keep everything as friend-like as possible with Tanner since his reaction to the pillow fight. That night, he'd been so aloof that she'd been afraid he'd storm out of the cabin and ride away right then and there. As it was, he hadn't spoken with her until the next day after breakfast.

She knew he just wanted to be careful to keep their relationship from veering into a new territory that neither of them wanted. And she couldn't be upset with him for it. In fact, she had to be careful to keep the relationship from veering off too.

The pillow fight had shown her that she had to abstain from any physical contact whatsoever. Of course, Tanner had already tried to tell her that. But she'd felt the power of their attraction to each other again that night, and she'd done better since then.

But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy looking at him—especially from behind, when he wasn't aware that she was staring. She'd just finished telling him about the young pygmy owl with the broken wing that she'd cared for a few weeks ago, and she'd been watching him the whole time then too.

He ducked under a branch and held it back for her.

She'd wound her hair under her Stetson and tucked her skirt up so that it wouldn't tangle in the brush. Under her heavy coat, her trousers showed along with her tall leather boots. She supposed that from a distance, someone could mistake her for a man. Usually she didn't mind looking so masculine, and it was probably for the best around Tanner.

Even so, a part of her wished she could put on a fancy gown just once and see Tanner's reaction. She wasn't sure why, except that he'd never really seen her at her best—had always seen her in tattered clothing with the dirt and dust of the mountain coating her.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, cutting a glance her way.

"I'm fine." Even if she wasn't, she wouldn't have told him. She had too much pride to admit to being tired or hungry—and she was both. "How are you holding up?"

He turned his head, but not before she caught the hint of a grin on his lips.

She hurried to stay up with him. "Do I amuse you?"

"Sometimes."

"What exactly about me do you find so amusing?"

"You're cute." He tromped forward without looking back. "That's all."

"I'm not cute."

"Sure you are."

She huffed, giving him a shove from behind.

He laughed, but the sound was cut short as he stepped into a clearing along the river and came to an abrupt halt. She moved beside him and scowled at the sight that met them.

Lester Acker and two of his grown sons blocked the path ahead—the one that led uphill to her cabin. Their feet were braced wide, and their rifles pointed forward.

Lester was the shortest of the three, with flat features—especially his nose, which had probably been broken one too many times. He never smiled, but he always showed his teeth, a few of which were discolored and others of which were missing entirely.

His oldest son, Lenny, who was around eighteen, could have been good-looking with his dark hair and eyes. But there was something about him that Maisy didn't like—probably the way he always looked at her as if she were prey he'd like to trap.

The other son, Louie, was younger but also the largest of the three, with a bulky, giantlike body but a much kinder face than Lester and Lenny. He hardly ever spoke, and when he did, it was usually in one- or two-word answers.

She was tempted to point her rifle right back at her three neighbors, but she didn't want to lower herself to their level of intimidation. "Put your guns away, Lester. That's not the way to greet your closest neighbor."

"It is today." He ground out the words.

Tanner's grip on his rifle was taut, and his other hand rested on his revolver handle. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is that blamed wolf of hers." Lester scanned the woodland, as if searching for Smoke, probably expecting the wolf to come bounding along the trail after her.

But Smoke hadn't gone with her and Tanner. He'd actually been gone the past two days, probably doing his own hunting. Or perhaps with Tanner there to protect her, Smoke had sensed that he had more freedom to roam. Whatever the case, she was glad he wasn't around at the moment, because no doubt Lester and his sons would've shot him.

"The wolf mauled a calf today." Lenny threw out the accusation as if it was the worst crime that had ever been committed in the history of the earth.

Tanner didn't say anything, but she knew what he was thinking—that her neighbors had every right to be upset if one of their calves had been attacked.

Even so, they had no right to blame Smoke. "You don't know if Smoke did it."

Lester continued to peer past her. "He's the only wolf I've seen around my place."

She rolled her eyes. "There's plenty of other wolves, and everyone knows it."

"And that's the problem." Lester shifted his rifle toward a moving shadow in the forest, but it was only a squirrel racing along a branch. "It's past time I took out that wolf and all the others around here before they destroy my herd completely."

"You're not killing Smoke." The words came out hotly with all the affection she felt for the wolf.

"Young lady, I'm done playing games." Lester leveled a serious gaze on her. "You shoot that wolf and bring me the carcass as proof—"

"You can't be serious."

"I'm dead serious." His expression remained grave.

"There's no way in heaven or on earth I'll ever kill him."

"Bring me his carcass by high noon tomorrow, or you'll leave me with no choice but to stake out your place and bring him down myself."

"You wouldn't dare." She started toward him as if that could stop him, but Tanner grabbed her arm and held her back.

"Don't try me." Lester finally lowered his gun, and his sons followed suit.

Tanner didn't release her, but she didn't try to break free either. What could she possibly do anyway? Hit Lester in the face? Shove him? Break his nose?

The truth was, she couldn't do anything.

Lester and his sons hiked toward the river, where their horses were tied up near the crossing—the place where the water was the lowest. "Remember," Lester called as he reached his horse. "Noon tomorrow. No later."

"You'll be waiting forever," she shouted after him. "I'm not killing my wolf."

"Then I'll be coming to do it myself," Lester called back. A moment later, he and his sons were mounted and heading away.

Only then did she jerk her arm from Tanner and start up the trail. She raced ahead of him, not wanting to hear his rebuke about Smoke. The fact was, Smoke very well could've mauled the calf. He was a wild predator who killed for his survival. It was only natural that he'd seek out a calf.

But she didn't want to shoot her wolf. Not when she'd raised him from a pup, and not when he was one of her closest companions in the lonely wilderness. Smoke cared about her just as much—maybe even more than she cared about him. She only had to think about the way he'd sought out help for her when she'd been stuck on the ledge. Or the way that he'd defended her from a coyote a few weeks ago. Or how he'd alerted her to a couple of strangers passing by and growled at them when they'd come too near her.

No, she'd never in a million years purposefully harm Smoke. Not after all they'd shared together.

If only she could communicate with him that he needed to go deeper into the wilderness and hunt farther away from civilization. Or even somehow tell him that it was time for him to break away from her altogether and start his own life, find a mate, and build his own pack.

Tanner followed her up the trail silently, which was fine with her because she didn't want to hear his rebuke at the moment—especially his voice of reason reminding her that Lester had every right to be upset. Any rancher would've wanted to put an end to the wolf problem.

They worked silently as they did their evening chores. All the while, she prayed Smoke would stay away, that he wouldn't return for another day or two. Then, when Lester came up to hunt the wolf down, she could tell her neighbor honestly that Smoke was away and she hadn't seen him recently.

But of course, the wolf came loping out of the woods just as she finished gutting the small pheasant she'd shot. He bounded up to her, his tail wagging, eager for attention and affirmation. She could feel Tanner watching her as she rubbed Smoke's head. But again, he didn't bring up the confrontation with Lester—not until after supper was cleaned up and she was dealing a hand of All Fours.

"So, are we going to talk about Lester's threat?" He was leaning forward casually, his elbows resting on the table, his brown hair damp from dumping the remainder of the wash basin over his head before dinner. Now, without his coonskin cap, the locks lay in thick waves that beckoned her to comb them back with her fingers.

"There's nothin' to talk about." She finished giving them each their cards, then flipped up her first card to reveal a jack of diamonds.

He didn't pick up his cards, and she could feel his intense gaze upon her.

She pushed his stack closer. "C'mon."

"What do you plan to do?" Tanner's tone was calm but contained a firmness that warned her he wouldn't be swayed from talking about the issue any longer.

With an exaggerated sigh, she slapped her cards down on the table. "I'm not doing anything. Lester will calm down by tomorrow and this won't amount to anything." It certainly wasn't Lester's first threat, and it probably wouldn't be his last, unless she left with Tanner at the end of the week. And she still hadn't made up her mind to go, even though she'd told Tanner she would.

"And if Lester doesn't calm down?"

"I'll tell him the same thing I told him today. He's not killing Smoke."

Tanner glanced at Smoke, now sprawled out on the floor in front of the door in his usual spot. "I know you have a bond with him, but he's not worth the fight, is he?"

"Yep." She pushed up from the bench and fisted her hands on her hips. "Yep, he's worth it."

Tanner's eyes were filled with questions that demanded answers—like what she planned to do with Smoke when she moved out of the mountains.

"I don't know what I'll do with him." She couldn't keep the frustration from her voice. "But you can't expect me to kill him, can you?"

Compassion creased Tanner's forehead and the corners of his eyes.

There were times when she turned around in the cabin and expected Nelly to be standing there, waiting to listen, eager to hear about all her adventures. But her sister's sweet smiling face was gone forever, and now everyone wanted her to sacrifice Smoke.

Tears stung her eyes. "He's all I have left, Tanner. Once he's gone, I have no one."

"You still have me." His reply was soft and sincere.

Yet, as nice as it was, they both knew the truth. After she left Colorado, even after she left the mountains, she wouldn't see him often, if at all.

"I have to defend him," she said, unable to keep her voice from wavering.

Tanner hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. If that's what you want to do, I'll help you."

She lowered herself back to the bench, swallowed the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her, and prayed Lester wouldn't follow through on his threat.