“Oh? What kind of wish?”
“I can’t say or it won’t come true.” His face wrinkled anxiously. “You think the wish will still work if I was using stolen coins?”
“Well, you were actually returning those coins at that point, so, uh…maybe?” Ginger’s heart ached for Cletus. What would he wish for? Clothing without holes in it? Food in the refrigerator?
“I better get back to work.” He set the box of brownies down on the bench and grabbed the hoe.
A couple of well-dressed women walking by glanced at him, and one of them clutched her pocketbook closer to her chest.
“Isn’t he that dirty Arbuckle boy?” one of the woman said loudly.
“Certainly is. I don’t think he’s had a bath in his whole life.”
Cletus’ face fell and he turned and began raking the dirt again, without a word. His eyes glittered with hurt and humiliation.
“Of course he’s dirty, he’s working in a freaking garden! Where there’s dirt! Maybe if you ever did a day of work in your life, you’d have room to talk!” Ginger yelled after them.
They flashed her a shocked lock. “What are you looking at?” she snapped, and they turned and hurried off.
“Don’t tell the sheriff I said that,” she told Cletus. “I’m already in enough trouble with him.”
“Join the club.” Cletus was smiling now.
The sheriff strolled over to them, tucking his phone in his pocket.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Cletus said.
“What he said,” Ginger added. He gave her the skeptical eyebrow raise, but didn’t say anything.
Ginger followed him to his car. “You looked a little perturbed by that phone call.”
“It’s nothing. Call from the council.”
“The shifter council?” The wolf shifter council was a big deal. They oversaw all matters for wolf shifters in their respective state.
“Yes, that’s right. Nothing to worry about. Anyway. We got to head out. There’s trouble at the dig,” he said.
Chapter Seven
To reach the dig, they drove down a joltingly bumpy country road for a mile and a half, until they finally reached a clearing by an old, dried up creek bed. There were several tents set up there, and outside the tents were tables and folding chairs, and a cluster of SUVs.
There was already a patrol car on scene when they arrived. Jax and another deputy were arguing with a group of panther shifters who were standing by a cluster of pine trees. The students were in the creek bed, sifting through dirt.
“You’ve got no damned authority here! None!” Jax was yelling at them. The shifter he was talking to, a tall muscular man with black flowing hair streaked with gray and white, who wore a traditional loincloth and buck skin boots, looked as if he were about to change form and throw down. Hair was bristling from the tips of his ears, and his eyes glowed yellow, as Loch and Ginger rushed up.
“Settle down, everybody. I’ll handle this. Montgomery, what’s going on –“
“These damned panthers”- Jax rushed in.
Loch spun on Jax with a growl, and his claws shot from his hands. His eyes blazed amber, and the bones in his face rippled and lengthened. Within seconds his face was covered with hair and his teeth sharpened into fangs.
For a brief second, Jax’s eyes sparked with fury, but then he quickly backed down and went down on one knee, bowing his head.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he muttered.
“You’ll wait in the patrol car.”
“Yes, sir.” Jax didn’t look happy about it, but he obediently climbed to his feet and loped over to his patrol car without a backward glance. His deputy glanced at Loch for guidance, and Loch inclined his head towards Jax’s car. “Go,” he said in a low growl, and the deputy ran after Jax.
He turned back to Montgomery and made a polite incline of his head. “My apologies,” he said. “My lieutenant spoke out of turn.”
Professor Reese was standing there, arms folded, glowering at Montgomery. “No he didn’t,” he said petulantly. “Your deputy was right. This man has no authority over me. He can’t tell me to do anything.”
Montgomery glanced over at Ginger. “Who’s this?”
“Ginger Colby.” She thrust her hand out to shake hands with him. “I’m delighted to meet you. I’ve heard so much about the Panther nation. I teach a unit on them to my fourth grade class in New York, you know.”
“I’m always happy to meet people who are respectful of our culture.” Montgomery inclined his head politely.
The panther shifters who were standing with him came forward and made a point of shaking hands with Ginger, while eyeing her appreciatively. “Tommy Deerkiller,” one of them said. “I own the souvenir shop. Come by any time.”