“What do you do about wolves?” she asked. “I’ve heard that you can’t kill them.”
“We contact the USDA’s Wildlife Service. They take out wolves on behalf of Fish and Wildlife if there’s a proven need. But I try to live with them,” he replied. “They’re majestic, part of the realm of nature. We scare them off, if we can. If that doesn’t work, and we start losing a lot of our calf crop, we have to call the authorities.”
“That’s sad.” She turned her attention skyward and gasped. “A raven!”
He looked up. “Yes, we have them here all the time. They’re carrion feeders. They serve a purpose, like the wolves who keep down the rabbit population.”
She glanced at him. “He’s just over there,” she pointed. “Could we go and see him?”
He got lost in those soft gray eyes, so much so that he almost forgot what she’d asked.
“Of course,” he said. “But he’ll fly away the minute we get close.”
“That’s all right. I just want a closer look.”
He turned his horse and led the way. The raven was sitting on a rock. He lifted his head and stared at them, and started to move.
“Please don’t,” Merrie said softly. She got down off her horse and moved just a little closer. “Beautiful fellow,” she purred.
The raven seemed equally fascinated with her. He hopped a step closer, then stood there looking at Merrie.
She stopped when she was an arm’s length away, her artist’s eyes capturing every line and curve of him. “I’m going to paint you, pretty bird,” she told him, smiling. “You’re so majestic!”
He made a raucous sound, ruffled his wings, and suddenly took to the air. He circled a couple of times before he flew off.
“Well, that’s one for the books,” Ren said, riding closer. “I’ve never seen one let a person get that close.”
“I love birds,” she said, remounting her horse. “I like to paint them. Although we don’t have ravens where I live. Just crows. But they’re very similar.”
“They are.”
“Will I ever get to meet the wolf?” she asked suddenly, remembering the one that was kept as a pet was in one of these line cabins with Ren’s foreman, Willis.
He chuckled. “Okay. Come along.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE WOLF WAS named Snowpaw. He was big and silver and he had yellow eyes. But he was missing a leg.
“Oh, the poor thing,” she said softly.
Willis, the tall, rangy ranch foreman who owned him, just smiled sadly. “We had a neighbor who liked to set bear traps in the woods. Nasty, terrible things that can mangle an animal before it kills him, and they aren’t limited to bears. Anything can get caught in them. Snowpaw did. I pulled him out, but it was impossible to turn him loose. So I got a license as a wildlife rehabilitator from the wildlife folks and they let me keep him. In my spare time, I take him to schools to show children that wolves aren’t the vicious, mindless animals they’re sometimes portrayed as.”
“He’s so beautiful,” she said gently, leaning forward in her chair.
Snowpaw cocked his head and studied her for a minute. Then he got up and loped his way to her, laying his head in her lap.
“You sweet boy,” she cooed, smoothing her fingers through the fur between his ears.
Willis was gaping at her. So was Ren.
“What?” she asked, still stroking the wolf.
“My girlfriend came to visit and he sat in the corner and snarled at her the whole time,” Willis said. “He even growled at my mother!”
“A raven just sat on a rock for her and let her look at him from an arm’s length away,” Ren said, with a faint pride in his tone as he smiled at her. “You already know about Hurricane.”
She flushed. She hadn’t realized that her care of the beaten horse would have become known to the other cowboys.
“We all know.” Willis chuckled. His dark eyes smiled at Merrie. “You’re a legend already, Miss Merrie.”
She flushed even more. “I just love animals,” she faltered.
“You should see the portrait she did of Hurricane,” Ren told him. “She’s one hell of an artist.”
“Could you draw Snowpaw for me?” Willis asked, impressed. “Just a sketch. I’d pay you...”
“I don’t charge for my work,” she said, smiling. “And I’d love to do it. He’s magnificent,” she added, rubbing her forehead over the wolf’s head.
The wolf moved closer.
Ren just shook his head. But he was smiling. And there was something in his black eyes, something new, something that made Merrie’s heart race. She couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
On the way back to the ranch, he stopped at a gate and frowned. He got down off his mount and checked the camera sitting on a post next to it. He pulled out his phone.
“Willis. Has anybody been out here checking cameras today? They haven’t? The camera at the stable gate leading down to the line cabin is leaning. It looks to me as if it’s been handled roughly. Tell J.C. and have him get down here and look at it, will you? I know, could have been a big bird or a gust of wind. I just want to double-check. Sure. Thanks.”