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Protector Wolf
Protector Wolf
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Protector Wolf

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“Really? That’s so exciting!” Maya really was impressed, wishing something similar had happened to her. She’d had to seek out every wild animal she’d seen herself without any miraculously appearing. “And did you let anyone know officially?” She thought she recalled a report on the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife site, or WDFW, that could have been a description of what had happened to this woman but she wasn’t sure.

“Absolutely. I researched online what to do and filed a report there with Washington’s fish and wildlife department. Only—”

She stopped, and her face seemed to age visibly.

“Only what?” Maya prodded gently.

“Only the one thing I forgot was to grab my camera.” Tears rose in her eyes.

Maya couldn’t let her leave the stage feeling bad, so she said, “But you took a picture in your own mind, I’ll bet. Will you ever forget what they looked like?”

“No, never.” The lady smiled, and Maya gave her a brief hug, encouraging her to rejoin the rest of the audience.

Her presentation was pretty much over—at least for this day. “Thank you all so much for coming,” Maya said. “And just remember some of the takeaways I suggested to you. First, you should all be proud, as Washington residents, that wolves are returning to your state and this area, and should continue to as long as you treat them well. And second—keep up with what we’re doing at WHaM in our tracking of wildlife and otherwise. Provide reports to us, too, and photos if you happen to take any. But be sure to report, as Ivy did, to the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife, and maybe the federal fish and wildlife department, as well. And if you care to make a contribution to help us keep WHaM going, that would be more than welcome. Just visit our website that’s on our flyers. I’ve got a boxful right here on the stage.”

“There’s something else you should all remember,” yelled a voice from the audience. Maya’s gaze lit first on the guy with the wolf-dog but he was scowling in concern. He hadn’t been the speaker.

“What’s that?” she asked, feeling as if she was setting herself up for some kind of bad situation.

She proved to be right. A couple of men and a woman separated themselves from the middle of the crowd and made their way onto the stage beside her. She felt her brows go up and a slight smile make its way to her lips, even as she continued to figure this wasn’t likely to be anything good.

One of the men, maybe her age of late twenties, wore a plaid shirt and a huge, snide grin. He put his hand out for the microphone. Reluctantly, she handed it to him.

“You all know me,” the guy said to the audience. He turned back to Maya. “But you don’t. My name’s Carlo Silling. I’ve lived in Fritts Corner all my life. This is my town, and those wolves getting close aren’t a sign of wonderful things to come, no matter what you and your wham-bammers seem to think. You don’t live here. You’re not subject to the danger that wild wolves can present to people, as well as any livestock they raise. They’re just that—wild animals. And I’d suggest you leave this stage, leave this town and let us take care of our own bad luck.”

* * *

Ryan felt himself freeze with tension as his hands curled into fists at his sides.

He’d been staring at that guy Silling as he’d come onstage, as well as the others who’d accompanied him. The malicious, menacing way they regarded the naturalist whose name he’d learned was Maya Everton made him want to rub those expressions right off their faces.

“I agree with Carlo,” the woman yelled to the crowd. “I’m Vinnie Fritts—and this is my husband, Morton.” She nodded toward the man in a yellow shirt beside her. “You all know us and how long we’ve been around Fritts Corner—Morton’s family especially. Who needs wild animals here to hurt people and ruin our wonderful town’s reputation?”

Ryan stood then and, grabbing Rocky’s leash from Piers, maneuvered from the front of the crowd and onto the stage.

Time to express their cover story.

“You’re all certainly entitled to your opinion,” Maya was saying. She had somehow retrieved her microphone and was glaring at the three interlopers. “But the reality is that if you stay away from wildlife, particularly wolves, they’re likely to stay away from you, too. You do need to be careful on behalf of your pets, though, since they can often resemble prey. And—”

The guy Carlo reached out and grabbed the microphone again, even as Maya attempted to hold on to it. “Yeah? Well, what if that lady Ivy happened to be in her backyard that night she saw those wolves? Or—”

This time, Ryan was the one to grab the microphone, even as the other guy, Morton, started to stride toward him.

That was when Rocky growled—and the guy stopped.

“See what I’m saying?” Carlo yelled out to the crowd.

Ryan smiled as he spoke into the microphone, not pleased to see those who’d admitted to be with the media continuing to take pictures. Oh, well. His cover was solid. “This is my dog, Rocky,” he said, “who only resembles a wolf. He’s well trained in many ways, including my protection. Threaten me, and he threatens back. But look, everyone. The appearances of wolves in this area clearly started months ago, even longer. I’m unaware of any farms or dairies around here. Have any people been hurt?”

That wolves had been seen, per Ivy’s story, around a month ago under the light of a full moon, intrigued him—but he’d check more into that later.

Maya strode up to him. She was as tall as she had appeared from below, though she wasn’t close to his height of six-two. He’d noted the fear and dismay on her face as he’d gotten close to the stage, but now she’d recovered all her aplomb as well as a huge smile that she leveled on him. “Thank you, sir,” she said. “And thank you, pup.” She turned toward Rocky, standing beside Ryan, who nuzzled her hand and wagged his tail just like any well-trained, friendly dog.

“That’s his way of saying you’re welcome,” he told her unnecessarily, loud enough that the audience should be able to hear. He was gratified to hear a bit of laughter.

“So, as this gentleman asked,” Maya continued, “has anyone been hurt since the wolf sightings started?”

Apparently not, since no one responded in the affirmative even though the low roar of the crowd’s voices grew louder.

“Great. Anyway, please keep in mind what I said before. And thanks to all of you for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” shouted a female voice. “Thank you for coming. And I totally agree with you.”

“Me, too,” chorused other voices in the audience.

“That’s so wonderful,” Maya called back. “You’re totally in the right.”

“So are you, and WHaM,” yelled a skinny guy in the front row, doing a fist pump.

“Thanks,” Maya returned, smiling down at him for a second before turning away.

Ryan was amused that Maya ignored the others onstage as she approached the table where her computer equipment rested. He joined her there, Rocky at his side.

“I’m Ryan Blaiddinger, with the US Fish and Wildlife Service,” he told her. “Count me with those who liked your presentation. And I want to hear more.”

“That’s great, Ryan,” she said. “Glad to meet you. You can join us.” She once more picked up the microphone from the table and spoke into it. “Hey, everyone,” she called to the now-disbanding audience. “I just got an idea. Can anyone suggest a bar in town where we all can meet?”

A bunch of people spoke out once more, this time making suggestions. The decision was to go to Berry’s Bar, a nearby establishment that sounded fairly large and accommodating.

“See you there?” Maya said, turning back to Ryan.

“You can bet on it. In fact, Rocky and I would enjoy walking there with you now.”

“Of course, though I need to drop some of my things off at my car. I want to learn more about your wonderful wolf-dog.” Her tone had turned soft and loving as she gazed down at Rocky—making Ryan wish for a moment that she’d been speaking about him instead. Which was ridiculous. She was a potential information resource for him, and that was all. And of course Rocky was one special dog.

“Good. Ready to go now?” Ryan glanced toward Piers, who stood near them. His assistant nodded briefly. He was ready to go—and to have Ryan’s back, if needed. Maybe Maya’s, too, since for now, at least, their goals seemed aligned.

“Just a minute while I gather up my stuff and turn this area back to the park personnel,” Maya told him. “Then I can join you.”

The idea of her joining him for any reason sounded much too good.

He was going to have to be careful in this lovely wildlife lover’s presence.

Chapter 2 (#ue3d16736-dda2-590d-85ee-109b922a7ca1)

Maya had encountered controversy before. She thought about that even more as she moved about the stage, first watching the local park attendants pick up their gear, then packing up her notebook and tablet computers, printed files, WHaM brochures and other items she’d brought.

The crowd below dissipated noisily, leaving the grass they’d been standing on bare, but she didn’t hear any arguments among them. Maybe the pro-wolf people and anti-wolf people had gone their separate ways. Good. She hoped to meet with a lot of the pros shortly. Maybe some of the media, too.

But as much as she disliked it, controversy was sometimes part of her job. Despite the growing numbers of outspoken people who liked wildlife, those who despised it—or wanted to kill it, whether or not using the protection of livestock or humans as their supposed rationale—never seemed to get smaller. That was why she not only took census but also spoke before groups, partly to make sure the pro-wildlife faction recognized that the other mind-set existed and knew they had to oppose it.

Usually, her talks and that knowledge helped to make those on her side a lot more outspoken right along with her. They often contributed donations to WHaM, too, which helped the nonprofit.

Finishing her organizing and packing, she glanced toward the steps off the stage and saw that the nice, helpful—and great-looking—guy Ryan stood there with Rocky, waiting for her. She couldn’t help smiling. Now, there was a man with proof right beside him of his position on this important subject.

It was almost time to head to the bar. She’d intended to stay in Fritts Corner for only a few days, but now she might hang out longer. Of course, that depended at least in part on who showed up at the bar this afternoon and how they acted.

Maya intended to get to know some of the people around here, particularly the few locals who had already been generous with donations. This wasn’t the way she’d hoped to get them together, but it should work.

Now, she walked toward the steps, following the park guys whose hands were full of the town’s electronic equipment they had collected. Her arms were full, too, and she stopped at the top of the steps to rearrange what she carried so she wouldn’t fall.

She shouldn’t have been pleased to have Ryan reach up to steady her—but she was.

“Thanks,” she told him as he held her arm.

He didn’t immediately let go, either, as she reached the last step. She made herself pull gently away, not wanting to encourage him to think she had any interest in him except as an animal advocate.

Although...did she want him to be interested in her in any other way?

No. Of course not.

“My car is parked just past the bar,” she told Ryan. He was watching her with very deep brown eyes. She hadn’t looked at him this closely before but couldn’t help appreciating how good-looking he was, with angular planes on his face and dark brown hair cut short. She turned slightly to try to prevent his recognizing that she’d been studying him. “You can just go to the bar, and I’ll meet you there after I put some of this stuff in my trunk.”

He reached toward her and lifted one of her tote bags and a few other things she held, lightening her load tremendously. “I’ll carry these. You lead the way.”

She couldn’t help looking at him again then—continuing to appreciate his tantalizing appearance as well as his gentlemanliness.

Still holding a few things she wanted to carry with her, including her tablet computer, she headed across the grass to the sidewalk, and then in the direction of the bar and where she had parked her car. Both Ryan and Rocky stayed beside her. The three of them pretty much took up the whole sidewalk, but other people didn’t seem upset about stepping aside to let them pass. Maya shot each of them smiles—and they smiled back at her as they seemed to enjoy Rocky.

“Nice town,” Ryan said. He was watching the people, too, so his reference to the town seemed to mean its inhabitants. At this angle, she was glad to look around nearly everywhere but toward him.

“It sure is. I like the people—most of those I’ve met anyway—and this area is definitely charming.”

She’d enjoyed sightseeing before, on her way to the park. She just hoped the town maintained its charm by continuing to be supportive of the return of the wolves.

For right now, talking in generalities about this area seemed pleasant enough as they walked. They soon reached her car, after passing Berry’s Bar on the way. It looked crowded inside despite the time being early afternoon. Were these all people from her talk wanting to discuss wildlife some more? She hoped so.

She opened the trunk of the sedan she had rented and Ryan put his armloads of her stuff into it. She did the same with what she was carrying.

Ryan closed the trunk. “I’ll be interested in how things go at the bar this afternoon. And I enjoyed your talk before. But I wanted to say something before we’re with the crowd.” He stood in front of her, Rocky still at his side, and frowned, which removed some of the allure from his good looks.

“What’s that?” She felt sure she wouldn’t like whatever he had to say.

She was right.

“I know about your organization, and I like what WHaM stands for. I’ve heard about how you go talk to groups like this while you confirm and count sightings of endangered animals. But—do all the talks wind up with results similar to yours? I mean, not only did you get people there who are excited about the prospect of a new influx of wildlife, but those who are against it. Outspokenly against it. Doesn’t that harm your position and your organization?”

“No,” she said flatly. She turned away, starting to walk toward the bar, and Ryan and Rocky joined her. “Well...maybe.” She didn’t look at them. “Controversy sometimes stirs up people who didn’t even know they had an opinion. So far I think that’s been helpful.”

“Maybe,” Ryan said. “But it can also cause problems both for your group and for the animals—potentially risky for both of you. I’d suggest you back off a bit, though I’d like to know more about your intentions. Let’s talk about it another time.”

They’d reached the crowded sidewalk in front of Berry’s Bar. “Sure,” Maya said, realizing that the idea of getting together with the gorgeous, sexy man to talk appealed more than a little. But...could it be risky? She hoped not. Should she back off? That wasn’t her.

What they would talk about might only rev up the controversy she knew was there.

* * *

Ryan saw Piers as soon as he entered behind Maya, with Rocky at his side. He’d told his aide to get here ahead of him and save some seats.

Were dogs allowed in here? If questioned, he would just claim that Rocky was his service dog. He even had paperwork in his pocket that would confirm that—if the person asking didn’t dig too deeply.

Inhaling the strong, predictable scent of alcohol, he waved, and Piers waved back, gesturing for him to join the group sitting on stools at the bar. Ryan therefore maneuvered through the crowd—and away from Maya.

Which in some ways he hated to do.

The woman was beautiful and sassy and loved wild animals. What wasn’t there to like about her?

The fact that she might be putting herself—and his role here—in danger?

Could be. That was why he had asked her to back off.

Sure, there was likely to be attention regarding each new wolf sighting around here, especially if they continued and grew in numbers. But he needed a bit of quiet in his own search regarding the inherent nature of those incoming wolves, not people talking and arguing, or worse.

And he didn’t get the sense Maya would pay any attention to him.

“What’s wrong?” Piers asked quietly as he reached the bar.

“Nothing, I hope.” But his aide knew him well. “We’ll talk later,” he amended.

“Fine.”

Ryan ordered a dark beer, which was also what Piers had in front of him. He decided to confront the situation of Rocky right off and requested that the bartender, a sizable fellow with a full head of hair and a beard, bring a bowl of water.

“Sure thing,” the bartender said. “Nice-looking dog. Is he yours?”

More or less, Ryan thought. He certainly treated his cover dog as his own. “Yep,” he said. “Rocky is one really good boy.”

“I bet.” When the bartender brought a metal bowl half-filled with water to the customer side of the bar and laid it at Ryan’s feet—next to several pairs of feet belonging to other patrons—the guy asked, “Have you ever been to Fritts Corner before?”

“No, though I really like this place.” He was laying it on a bit thick, but what the heck? “I’m here because of the latest wolf sightings. I work for US Fish and Wildlife.”

“Really?” The bartender’s whole, round face lit up. “Were you at the talk at the park before? I was here working, but I heard about it.”

“I sure was.” Why not go for broke—maybe lay into some of Maya’s contentious ground? “There were some arguments. Not everyone is glad there are wolf sightings around here. How about you?”

“I’m definitely for them,” the guy said with no hesitation. He held out his hand to Ryan to shake. “I’m Buck Lesterman. My family recently bought Berry’s Bar, and I’m happy with everything to do with wildlife.”

Which was what Ryan had been looking for. Was this guy a shifter? Were any members of his family?