Chapter One
It was out there, somewhere she couldn’t see it. And it was stalking her.
Resting the barrel of her shotgun against her shoulder, Rebecca Schumacher breathed in the ragged Wyoming wind. Her nostrils flared with the smell of rain. Thunder rolled through the air from behind the granite peaks, lumbering its way east in the wake of soot-gray clouds. It would reach her in an hour, maybe two tops. The farmers would be happy, but getting caught in the rain would thoroughly irk her.
The butt of her shotgun rested on the ground as she squatted down, her topaz eyes trailing along the barbed-wire fence. Even though it was late spring, the grass was already hip-high and obscuring the lower two wires of the fence, hiding the rusty lines with their sun-scorched blades. But not enough to hide what she searched for. Caught in the wrought twists, a clutch of short hairs blew in the breeze. Their scent wafted to her and she felt a low rumble rise from her chest. Musty like wet dog, with a faint hint of something bitter-sweet. That scent shouldn’t be here.
Neither should I, a faint thought whispered. Because this is going to come back and bite me in the ass.
A cow bellowed in the distance. Another responded. No doubt they knew the storm was coming. She started walking faster along the fence line. The last thing she needed was to be nearby if the herd decided to spook.
Something whispered in the wind, barely catching the corner of her eye. She stopped and the wind protested by blowing a stray strand of her tawny hair into her eyes, as though it wanted to keep the secret to itself. Again she squatted down, focused on a small lock of hairs caught in a barb. Short, thick hairs, black and brown…
Another gust of wind and the scent she had been tracking hit her full force. In a blink her eyes were forward, scanning the tall grass for the source.
About thirty yards in front of her, a dark figure hunched just below the top of the grass. Nothing more than a shadow to the untrained eye, unmoving amongst the swaying golden field. But she could make out a pair of yellow eyes, and they were locked on her.
Despite drawing slow breaths, her heart rate rose. Staying low herself, she brought the rifle down until the butt rested against her shoulder. She took another deep breath and focused on the eyes as intensely as they did on her.
You don’t belong here.
Nothing changed in the yellow orbs. Then slowly, they began moving toward her.
The barbed wire fence between them provided no comfort as she watched the creature approach. Rising to her feet, she kept the shotgun pointing down. Waiting. Watching.
From her higher vantage point, she could make out a mottled brown and black coat, stretched smoothly over a long back. Pointed ears now bobbed over the top of the grass, matched by the rhythmic rise-and-fall of shoulder blades. A wolf. And it was trotting toward her now.
She cocked the forearm, raised the barrel skyward, and squeezed the trigger. The bang stung her ears, but she didn’t show it. The wolf veered to the side and stopped about ten yards away.
With a lift of her chin, she said, “Leave.”
A low growl reverberated toward her. And it charged.
She inhaled and chambered her second round. This time she took aim, exhaled, and squeezed.
This bang didn’t sting her ears as much, still numb from the first round. But she still heard the pained yelp as the bean bag round made contact with the wolf’s shoulder. It dropped to the ground just a few yards from where she stood. She lowered her aim and instantly regretted the movement as the wolf sprang from the golden sway toward her.
It was a good jump, launching the lean body from the grass and over the fence. Front paws hit her shoulders with enough force to knock her solidly to the ground. Hands gripping each end of the shotgun, she jammed the barrel across the wolf’s neck. White fangs snapped from raised lips, the upper right missing its sharp tip. Saliva sprayed hot droplets on her face. Snarling reverberated in her ears, drowning out any sound of struggle she might be making. The harder she pushed, the more forceful the wolf bore down, maw inching closer and claws digging into her shoulders through her shirt. She needed to do something quickly before this got serious.
“Get off!” she screamed as white teeth snapped at her face. “I will talk to your father!”
The ire in the yellow eyes instantly faded and the snapping jaws stilled. For a moment they were motionless, panting and glaring at each other. Black nostrils flared at something akin to recognition wafted across the lupine eyes. The wolf got off her and backed away.
Still clutching the shotgun, she took deep breaths as she stared up at the gray-swirling sky. After swallowing hard, she sat up.
The wolf was gone.
After scanning the grass around her in a full three-sixty, she took another deep breath. Her hands clutching the gun were shaking. A familiar prickling sensation in her fingertips announced the digits resembled claws more than a gel manicure. Prying her right hand free, she fumbled her pocket knife from her jeans. Blade opened, she shoved up her opposite jacket sleeve and pressed the knife against her forearm. A quick yank and the serrated teeth bit into her flesh, sending a sharp pain into her cerebral cortex.
You’re okay, Bec. He’s gone. You’re okay…
A couple more breaths and blood trickle on her skin, and her fingertips were normal again. She blew out, pocketed the knife, and got to her feet. Even though his scent lingered in the air, she was certain he was gone. Ran back upwind. A rookie move, but then again, right now it didn’t matter. They knew who each other was. And he was probably running back to the pack to spin a tale in his favor.
Yup, this is definitely going to bite me in the ass.
Holding the shotgun by the grip, she rested the barrel skyward against her shoulder and let out a long -- and perturbed -- sigh. Well, no time like the present to deal with this.
Her path back to her pickup was direct this time, the heels of her hiking boots pummeling a focused succession on the dry ground. The shoulder of the road was a four-foot irrigation ditch, so the gold Silverado sat dormant in the lane of traffic. No matter, most folks around here couldn’t care less.
About me or my truck being in the roadway, I’m not sure, she thought with a snort.
As she got into the driver’s seat, she secured her shotgun on the rack against the back window. The skin of her shoulders tugged with the motion, shooting little arrows of pain through her nerves. She sucked in a breath that sounded more like a snarl than a gasp, and her fingers curled into claws. Easy, girl, she silently coached herself.
Instinctively, her hand found the Gerber clipped to her jeans pocket. With a minor flick of her thumb, she had released the blade and was pressing her fingertip against it.
After a second she was able to draw a deep breath, then another, forcing the animal down. It was then she noticed a blinking light on her cell phone, resting upright in the center cup holder. It was a text from Kyle,
Good morning, beautiful. Have a good day.
A smile spread her lips and she closed the pocket knife. He must have just finished his early morning tour. She had felt him climb out of bed way before the sun rose, figuring he was headed to the airfield to meet a client. He had been so busy she had hardly seen him in the last three days. Mental note, pick up a bottle of wine on the way home.
While her cell was still in her hand, it began ringing. One glance at the caller ID convinced her to answer with a quick tap. “Hello?”
“Bec...” a young, slightly twangy male voice said. “Was that you who shot off a round five minutes ago?”
“I don’t know, Cooper. This is Wyoming, everyone shoots.” With her free hand, she pulled her seat belt across her chest. “You need to get the Colorado suburbs out of your veins.”
“But I want to preserve my good manners. Speaking of manners, it wouldn’t hurt to let the Sheriff’s Office know when you’re out and about.” Still, there was a light chuckle in his voice.
“Yeah right, too much work.” She clicked her seatbelt into place. “I’d be calling you every few hours with location updates. I follow the carnivores. By the way, how’s your sister doing?”
A low sigh from the other end of the phone. “As good as can be expected. I think she has anemia now. As though losing weight wasn’t enough, she’s skin and bones now. This thing is sucking the life out of her.”
Without realizing it, her teeth had found their way around her lower lip. She quickly released it. “You’re a good brother, Coop. Stay strong for her.”
“Yeah, right.” A forced chuckle. “Where are you headed next? So I don’t call you back in an hour when I hear more gunshots.”
“Well you won’t from me–” I hope, “--I’m headed back into town to talk to Tucker Morris. Seems a wolf was bothering a neighbor’s cattle, I want to see if he’s had any issues.”
A few more seconds and she tapped the call away. Another long sigh broke from her. She might be late tonight.
With a flick of her wrist, she turned the key and the truck rumbled to life. The drive back into town took about twenty minutes and she spotted only a handful of vehicles along her way. The storm clouds were drawing closer, clouding the harsh light from the sun. By the time she pulled onto the main street, smoke-dark cumulonimbus covered every inch of blue sky overhead.
