“And you also want to avoid your brothers, don’t you?”
He jammed his hand through his hair. “Yeah, that was part of it.”
Rory marched up to him. “You dropped this on them tonight and then you run off the next day? How is that fair? Maybe you’ve had years to come to terms with the idea you’re not Casper’s son, but they haven’t.”
“Which means it’ll take them more than a few hours to process it, Rory. Me goin’ away for a couple of days ain’t gonna matter.”
“You don’t know that. You’re assuming a lot.”
“So are you.”
“Are you telling me to butt out?”
Dalton touched her face. “No, baby, I’m not. I’d never do that. This affects you too. It affects us.”
“Then when did you plan to tell me you were leaving?” When he looked away from her, she knew. “On your way out of town.” Despite her fury, she kept her tone icy. “You say you’ve changed? Bullshit. You’re still running away.”
“I’m not!”
“Yes, you are.”
“Goddammit, I’m not.”
Was he trying to convince her? Or himself?
Rory got right in his face. “Don’t do this. Stay here and deal with it. Stay here with me and let me help you deal with it.”
“Rory—”
“You say you love me? Prove it. Don’t go.” She wrapped herself around him. “Stay. Please. Grab that suitcase and come home with me. Let me take care of you.”
He hugged her so tight she couldn’t breathe. “Okay.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dalton hadn’t seen much of his brothers in the week that’d passed since his…confession or whatever the hell it was. He’d talked to them both on the phone. That’d been easier than a face-to-face meeting, especially since Brandt and Tell were still in shock. He understood it wasn’t that his brothers didn’t believe him; they just didn’t want to believe it.
Those conversations were the first in the past two months they hadn’t asked if he’d be visiting the rehab hospital.
His sweet, wonderful, thoughtful sisters-in-law had each stopped by in the guise of dropping off a decent home cooked meal for the lone McKay bachelor. He hadn’t minded that Jessie hugged him a lot. He’d held it together when she’d broken down about Brandt’s reaction after he’d left the bar. While part of him was relieved to hear Brandt’s reaction in front of him had been more about saving face until he could unleash his anger in private, another part hated that his brother was dealing with any guilt.
And Rory…after she’d begged him not to go to Montana, something had shifted in their relationship. But he hated to think the change was because she felt sorry for him. And asking why she wanted to spend all their free time together when she’d been so insistent on showing him she had a full life without him, smacked of desperation.
So this official business meeting with Rory gave Dalton a case of nerves. He needed this elk permit. After all he’d been through with his brothers, he knew that he’d never return to ranching with them. As much as he’d harped on honesty between them, Dalton couldn’t tell Rory that the only reason he’d applied for the permit was because of her. If she wasn’t living here he wouldn’t have bothered.
There were a number of ways she could take that—none of his explanations sounded good in his head so he’d be better off not giving voice to them.
And he had to take care today to separate the Rory in his bed from Rory the WNRC employee who was evaluating him. Her evaluation wasn’t as a person. She wasn’t judging him as a lover, or a lifelong mate, but an acceptable risk for the test program.
He’d left the gate open and parked off to the side where she could see his vehicle. He hadn’t unloaded the ATV he’d borrowed from Tell. Rory would need to unload hers and he figured he’d seem overeager if he was ready and helped her without asking. Rory was independent that way.
The wind began to blow. He checked his cell phone to see if he’d missed a call. Might seem like Rory was late, but he’d been twenty minutes early.
The government vehicle bounced into view and pulled up beside him.
There was a moment of awkwardness when they faced each other. But then Rory said, “This is ridiculous,” and leaned in, giving him a quick peck on the mouth. “We’re adults. We can be professional about this.”
“Agreed. So at the risk of offending your professional status, do you need help unloading?”
“No. I’ve got it.”
“Cool.”
They were ready to go at the same time.
“Do you have a preference what I show you first?” Dalton asked.
“Natural boundaries. Then where you’d supplement with fencing. Proposed feed and water sites. And if there’s a section not covered in snow, I’d like to look at the native grass and vegetation, although I realize it’s not an accurate representation this time of year.”
“All right. Since I know the terrain I’ll lead, but if you have any questions or need me to stop or slow down, just honk.”
“Will do. But a slower pace is better for me.”
After adjusting their clothing, heading into the wind, Dalton started down the easiest path. He tried to catalogue the area as Rory might. It did appear a little desolate in this section. No cover at all. Rocky. There was enough vegetation in the summer to run maybe twenty head of cattle but he wasn’t sure what that translated to as far as head of elk. But this wasn’t the area where he’d concentrate the feeding grounds.
As if she’d read his mind, Rory honked. He stopped and she pulled up alongside of him.
“In your application, you didn’t plan to utilize this area for anything?”
“No,” he shouted over the engines. “Too close to the road. I’d add higher fencing, but where I envision the habitat starting is down a little farther.”
“Thanks. Let’s go there.”
When they arrived at the first section, about halfway into the piece of land, with the natural boundaries, they left the ATVs and walked.
Rory didn’t say much. She took out a small notebook and wrote in it. She’d ask a question or two. Do the silent survey thing and they’d move on. Seemed they walked most of the bottom half of the property. She was very thorough—he’d give her that.
The wind kicked up and snow started coming down harder. Pretty snow—huge flakes that swirled like a white tornado in the gusts of wind.
She moved closer to him. She’d worn coveralls and a heavy jacket, just like he had, but even three layers wasn’t much protection. “Getting nasty out here. Let’s head back.”
The trek back to the ATVs was uphill and straight into the wind, making conversation impossible. By the time they reached the vehicles they needed to catch their breath.
Dalton faced away from the wind, resting his backside on the back end. He tugged Rory against him. “Lemme be your windbreak until we’re ready to go.”
“Thanks.”
Maybe it made him a sap, or stupid, but it felt right in that moment. Holding Rory while the snow blew around them. She anchored him in a way he’d never imagined.
She stepped back. “Okay, my lungs stopped burning.”
“Mine too. I’ll lead the way.”
Even with all the stops on the way down, it still took them longer to get back up to the flat land.
After they’d loaded their respective four-wheelers, he said, “Wanna sit in my truck while your vehicle warms up before you head back?”
“That’d be great. I have some more questions anyway.”
Rory ditched the hat and the hood before she loosened the scarf and pulled off her gloves. “Man. I didn’t know we were supposed to get a snowstorm today.”
“We’re not.” He removed his gloves and grabbed the thermos from the bench seat. He twisted the cup off the top and unscrewed the lid.
“Is that…hot coffee?”
“Yes ma’am. Don’t know how hot it is anymore.” Dalton poured the steaming liquid in the cup and passed it to her. “Have the first sip. We’ll share.”
Rory tipped the cup and drank. Then she moaned. “Still hot enough. God. This is heaven.”
“Few things are better than a cup of hot coffee after you’ve been out workin’ in the cold.”
“True.” She gulped the remainder and passed the empty cup back. “Your turn.”
He poured himself a cup and couldn’t help but sigh after the first sip. He reached over and cranked the heat higher. “You said you had more questions?”
“Biggest one is why do you think you can keep elk within the boundaries?”
“Because they’re dumb. Give ’em food and water in the same place and they’ll stick around. No different than cattle really.”
“What about when the male elk are in the rut? Think the bulls will go looking across other pastures for more cows to breed?”
“I don’t think so. The way to keep that from happening is limiting the number of bulls. Given the size of the farm, I’d say between forty and fifty elk is the maximum number for the herd. Then cycle the bulls out after two years. Let someone else grow bulls for size and horns. I’m more interested in keeping a healthy herd and that means calves. Isn’t the survival rate of an elk calf in the wild under ten percent, given the number of predators?”
Rory nodded. “The whole let-nature-run-its-course argument isn’t valid. Especially not in Wyoming. The state has been supplementing feed for the Yellowstone and Teton herds since the 1930s.”
“You know a lot about this.” He held up his hand. “Don’t take that the wrong way. I know you’ve got a master’s degree, but to be honest, I wasn’t exactly sure what your degrees were in. Now I understand why your boss selected you for the project. But you oughta be workin’ in Yellowstone or the Tetons. Hell, you oughta be running those programs.”