Mary J. - Red Wolf's Return

“Who?” he asked.

“Ethan Red Wolf.”

“The guy who took over Old Man O’Conner’s rifle range?”

“Mr. O’Conner to you, Beau.”

“Whatever.”

Pick your battles, Meg. “Have you been on his property?”

Beau shrugged. “Maybe.”

“When?”

“Can’t ’member.”

She didn’t like the smirk as he dipped his head for another spoonful of yogurt. “Let me refresh your recollection then. Labor Day and the last weekend of July.”

He slammed the container on the table hard enough to bounce a few blobs over the rim. “What am I, under investigation? If you’ve got something to say, Mom, then say it.”

“All right.” Meg shoved away from the counter and came to the table, where she sat down kitty-corner to her son. “Here’s the deal. Mr. Red Wolf saw you on his land on both those days. He spoke to you during the last meeting. Both times you were carrying a twenty-two.”

“So?”

“So first off, you know the rule about taking the gun without supervision.” Doug had bought Beau the rifle for his last birthday, something Meg had vehemently opposed.

“Big deal.”

“It is when you ignore my wishes, son. I’ll be taking the gun to the office in the morning. It won’t be returned until you understand the consequences for your actions.”

Irritated eyes rose. “Who needs a stupid gun, anyway?”

Indeed. “Second, you disregarded the No Trespassing signs on private property.”

“I was crossing it to go up the mountain.” His gaze skittered away. “Me’n Randy were target shooting.”

“There’s a range in Livingston for that, Beau. You could’ve asked me to take you.”

“Yeah, well, Randy’s embarrassed about his aim. Can’t hit a barn wall, so I was showing him some tricks without getting razed by those dork friends of his dad’s.”

Linc Leland, son of the mayor. She could well imagine Linc’s disappointment in his apprehensive son. What Beau saw in the boy, Meg couldn’t fathom. Beau was a leader, Randy a follower.

She said, “Randy’s problems don’t give you the right—or authorization—to use someone’s private property as a practice area. Or to shoot at eagles.”

“Eagles?” His eyes widened. “Who said we were shooting at eagles? The Blackfoot guy?”

“Excuse me?”

The tips of Beau’s ears pinked. “I mean, Mr. RedWolf.”

“Then say his name, Beau. Don’t be disrespectful of someone’s ancestry or heritage.”

“All right! I get it already.”

“Do you? Sometimes I wonder if you’ve learned anything I’ve taught you.” She should stop, but suddenly she saw a teenage Ethan in high school, heard the taunts by Linc Leland and his friend Jock Ralston. Hey, Tonto. Where’s your horse? She had hated those boys, but she’d hated the look in Ethan’s eyes more. That shame and regret for who he was, who he would always be. She had loved him for a thousand reasons, but one rose above the rest: that he stood alone against the odds.

He’d never quite believed her. And in the end her foolish arrogance had proven him right.

To Beau she said, “You constantly go behind my back. You ignore the ground rules. I’m trying to make a living for us, Beau, but when you do things—”

“Okay. You don’t have to rag on and on.”

She inhaled slowly. “This morning Mr. Red Wolf found a wounded eagle in the area where he spoke with you and Randy.”

“That doesn’t mean we shot it. He’s lying if he said that. Jeez, Mom, we know it’s illegal to shoot eagles.”

“Ethan didn’t accuse you, just said he found an injured eagle where he’d last seen you two boys. He’s asked that I do some investigating and get the matter resolved before—”

“And just like that you figured it was us shooting the bird.” Beau shoved back his chair. “Figures. You never believe me, no matter what I say.”

“That’s not it at all.”

“Forget it. Believe what you want, then. That’s what you always do anyway.” Spinning around, he stomped to the back door, flung it open and was outside before Meg could get around the table.

Damn it, she thought, watching him pace down the dirt path to where the battered old pickup she had bought him last spring waited.

Believe what you want, then. Her own words, echoing through the tunnel of her past. Words she had tossed Ethan the night of their prom. Believe what they say,

then. Don’t stand up for yourself. Don’t be the man I thought you were.

What goes around, comes around, Meg. With a heavy sigh, she went back to grating the carrots.

Beau squealed his wheels out of the yard. God, his mother made him so mad. Since she’d caught him smoking in his bedroom a year ago, she’d been on his case about every nitpicky thing.

No matter what he did, she never took his side, always questioned his marks on tests, saying if he studied harder he’d get better grades, or if he finished his assignments and listened in class he’d understand the material better.

She questioned where he went after school and on weekends, and for how long and why and whom he was going with. She didn’t trust any of his friends.

Grinding gears, he hit the main road back to Sweet Creek. He didn’t understand his mom anymore. Hell, he didn’t understand himself anymore.

They used to be so close. Ever since his dad, wimpass Dr. Doug Sutcliffe, walked out on them when Beau was a little snot back in Sacramento. His mom hadn’t told Beau the reasons behind the divorce, but he knew. Didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure why the esteemed Dr. Doug left the family.

Pulse hammering, Beau slowed for the town limits. One of these days he was cutting out, leaving this backwater behind. Then he’d be free to do whatever he damned well wanted, whenever he damned well pleased. And to hell with both his parents.

Meg wanted to see the extent of the eagle’s injuries and ask veterinarian Kell Tanner what he was able to determine.

After parking the police cruiser, she pushed through the front door of Sweet Creek’s Animal Clinic, clinking the bell at the top of the jamb. In a short hallway beyond the reception area, Ethan stood with the vet; their heads turned upon her entry.

From under his ball cap, Ethan’s dark serious eyes latched on Meg. A cold sweat swiped her skin. Had the eagle died?

“Hey, Meg,” Kell said, eyes smiling. “Come to see my newest patient?”

Still alive. She breathed easier. “How’s it doing, Doc?”

“There’s a fifty-percent chance for survival. My bet is on the survival fifty.”

“Good to hear.” Her eyes wove back to Ethan, hoping to convey her relief for his sake. Rescuer that he was, the bird’s wounds would weigh on his heart. Turning to Kell, she asked, “What were your conclusions on the injuries?”

He jerked his head toward the rear door. “I was just about to tell Ethan. Why don’t you both come to the aviary and I’ll explain.”

They walked down the hall, Ethan tall and rangy beside her as they followed the doctor. Their hands brushed once. Outside, a roofed walkway linked the main structure to a small edifice. A sign reading Aviary hung above its door; inside, a birdcage contained the eagle.

Kell went to a small refrigerator, took a few bits of raw meat from plastic bag and walked to the raptor. White bandages wrapped its thigh and wings, and a plastic shield banded its neck. Yellow predator eyes watched them cautiously.

Ethan stood behind her shoulder, igniting a current of warmth between their bodies. He said, “Great job, Kell. As always.”

“Thanks. Barring infection, this little gal should make it.”

“Was she shot by a twenty-two?” Meg asked.