He eased away as slowly as he’d eased to her. “No,” he said, “we’re not done.” The oven timer dinged, and he smiled. “But the pizza is.”

12

He’d spent worse nights, Coop thought, as he added logs to the fire in Lil’s living room. But it had been a lot of years since he’d made do with a chilly room and a lumpy sofa. And even then, he hadn’t had the additional discomfort of knowing the woman he wanted slept one floor above.

His choice, he reminded himself. She’d told him to go; he’d refused. So he’d gotten a blanket, a pillow, and a sofa six inches too short for him. And it had very likely been for nothing.

She was probably right. She was perfectly safe on her own, in her cabin. Locked doors and a loaded rifle were solid safety factors.

But once he’d told her he intended to stay, he hadn’t been able to back down.

And it was damn weird, he mused, as he walked back to the kitchen to put on coffee, to be wakened in the dark by a jungle cat’s roar.

Damn weird.

He supposed she was used to it, as he hadn’t heard her stir, even when he’d been compelled to pull on his boots and go out to check.

The only things he’d discovered were she needed more security lights, and that even if a man knew there were sturdy barriers, the roars and growls in the dark could send an atavistic finger of fear up his spine.

She was stirring now, he thought. He’d heard her footsteps above, and the clink of the pipes as she turned on the shower.

It would be light soon, another frigid, white-drenched dawn. Her people would be heading in, and he had his own work to see to.

He hunted up eggs and bread, a frying pan. She might not agree, but he figured she owed him a hot breakfast for the guard duty. He was slapping a couple of fried egg sandwiches together when she walked in. She’d bundled her hair up, wore a flannel shirt over a thermal. And looked no more pleased to see him this morning than she had the night before.

“We need some ground rules,” she began.

“Fine. Write me up a list. I’ve got to get to work. I made two if you want the other,” he added as he wrapped his sandwich in a napkin.

“You can’t just come here and take over.”

“Put that at the top of the list,” he suggested as she followed him into the living room. He passed the sandwich from hand to hand as he shrugged on his coat. “You smell good.”

“You need to respect my privacy, and get it through your head I don’t need or want a guard dog.”

“Uh-huh.” He settled his hat on his head. “You’re going to need to bring in more firewood. I’ll see you later.”

“Coop. Damn it!”

He turned at the door. “You matter. Deal with it.”

He bit into his sandwich as he strode to his truck.

She was right about the ground rules, he thought. Most things worked better with rules, or guidelines anyway. There was right and there was wrong, and a big, wide mass of gray between them. Still, it was best to know which shades of gray worked for any particular situation.

She was entitled to set some rules, as long as she understood he’d be exploring the gray.

He ate his egg sandwich as he drove the looping road to the gate, and setting rules, guidelines, and the mystery of just what he wanted from Lil aside, he mentally arranged what he had to do that day.

Stock to be fed, stalls mucked out. Then getting his grandparents out on horseback would be an accomplishment. He needed to get into town for some supplies, do some paperwork at the storefront. If they didn’t have customers who wanted a trail guide, he’d get Gull to work on some of the tack.

He wanted to work out a basic plan, cost analysis, and feasibility of adding pony rides to the business. Take a few horses like Little Sis, he mused, walk them around a fenced track for a half hour, and you could…

His mind switched off business and to alert.

The corpse was draped over the gate. Below it, blood stained the hardpack of snow. A couple of vultures were already pecking for breakfast while more circled overhead.

Coop hit the horn to scatter the birds as he slowed to scan the trees and brush, the road beyond the gate. In the dim, early light, his headlights washed over the dead wolf, turned its dead eyes eerily green.

Coop leaned over, opened his glove compartment, and took out his 9mm and his flashlight. Climbing out of the truck, he shined the light on the ground. There were footprints, of course. His own would be among them from the night before, when he’d opened the gate.

He saw none he judged as newer than his own on the inside. That, he supposed was something. Still, he walked in his own tracks to reach the wolf.

It had taken two shots-one mid-body, one head-to bring the wolf down, as far as Coop could see on a visual. The body was cold to the touch, and the small blood pool frozen.

It told him the message had been delivered several hours before.

He flipped the safety back on his gun, pushed it into his pocket. As he dug for his phone he heard the hum of an approaching car. Though he doubted the messenger would be back so soon, or travel in a vehicle, Coop slid his hand into his pocket and over the grip of his gun.

The light had gone misty gray with dawn, and in the eastern sky the red rose and spread. He walked back, cut his headlights, and standing at the gate saw his instinct had been right. The four-wheel drive slowed. He held up a hand to stop them, to keep them as far back from the gate as he could manage when they made the turn.

He recognized the man who got out the passenger side by sight, but not name. “Keep back from the gate,” Coop ordered.

Tansy climbed out the other side and stood holding the door handle as if for support. “Oh, my God.”

“You want to keep back,” he repeated.

“Lil.”

“She’s fine,” Coop told Tansy. “I just left her up at the cabin. I need you to call the sheriff-Willy. Get back in the car and call. Tell him somebody left a dead wolf at the gate. Two bullet holes that I can see. I want you to wait in the car, don’t touch anything. You.” He pointed to the man.

“Uh, Eric. I’m an intern. I just-”

“In the car, stay. The vultures come back, hit the horn. I’m going to go get Lil.”

“We’ve got some volunteers coming in this morning.” Tansy took a breath that huffed out a fog, then another, shorter, smoother. “And the other interns. They should be here soon.”