Linda Johnston - Loyal Wolf

“Could be,” Hal said. He stood and walked behind Ralf and Jock, approaching the guy at Jock’s other side. That guy didn’t look too pleased, especially when Hal said, “Hey, Nate, we got room to enlist some other hunters?” If Jock wasn’t mistaken, Hal, who was even taller than Jock had first thought and had a substantially receding hairline, half winked toward the man he called Nate.

“Probably not just now,” Nate said, not sounding especially inviting. “But I can check. You guys done much shooting before?”

Jock started making up a whole story of how he’d loved hunting since he was a kid. He added what he thought might help make up this Nate’s mind if he was one of the leaders and the group actually was composed of anarchists. “Thing is,” he ended up saying, “there are so many damned laws about who can own guns and where you can shoot them and what you can shoot where we come from—well, it’s just damned frustrating.”

“Yeah,” Nate said. “Where I’m from, too.” He held out his hand. “I’m Nate Tisal.”

Jock introduced himself and Ralf, too.

Tisal appeared to be in his fifties, with a lot of gray in his dark hair and divots resembling parentheses emphasizing the narrowness of his lips. His light brown eyes seemed to study Jock, as if he were trying to dig into his mind and learn what he really thought about hunting and guns.

“Where’s that?” Jock asked in a tone that was studiedly casual yet friendly.

“Another state,” the guy dissembled. “How long you here for?”

Obviously turning the topic back to him, Jock thought. “Just a few days. Ralf and I are on our way to Yellowstone, but I wanted to take the opportunity to visit a friend from my college days who lives here.”

“Who’s that?” Nate immediately shot back.

Jock had already talked about this with Ralf. Since they were likely to be seen in town with Kathlene, who wore her deputy sheriff’s uniform a lot, it would be better to be up front about that so none of the possible anarchists they met would assume they were talking to the authorities about their newest acquaintances.

Even though they would be.

“My old buddy Kathlene Baylor. Who’d a thunk back then that she would go into law enforcement? She’s with the local sheriff’s department, of all things.” He shook his head as if he was totally befuddled by the idea.

“She is?” Despite the casualness of Tisal’s tone, he sounded interested. Worried? Probably not.

“Yeah. I don’t get it. But damned if she doesn’t look good in a uniform.” Jock looked around. “Hey,” he said, and waved toward the bartender. “I’d like another beer. How about you?” He looked at Nate. “I’m buying. And you, Hal?”

Jock paid for a round of beers for the four of them, who were now good buddies. Or at least he had made some inroads, he hoped, into finding out more about these men and those with them—and whether they were, in fact, terrorists or more.

He realized he hadn’t fully established, not yet, that they were among those hanging out at the old ranch. But he’d have bet another round of drinks for everyone there, including the additional dozen or so guys also still at the bar, that these two were part of that group.

And were they anti-law? Anti-government? That remained to be seen.

But with their initial attitude about hunting and guns...well, he couldn’t rule it out, either.

* * *

“Hey, the sheriff’s got a job for you for tomorrow afternoon.”

Kathlene had just gotten back to work, logged in and contacted her partner, Jimmy Korling, who was going to come by and pick her up in their patrol car. She was heading outside to wait for him when Undersheriff George Kerringston hustled from the doorway to catch up with her.

She pivoted to face George. If Sheriff Frawley had personally chosen an assignment for her, it probably involved hanging out in their cruiser on the street where some town muckety-muck’s kid was having a birthday party inside.

George Kerringston had been with the sheriff’s department for twenty years and bragged about that often. He was slightly tall, slightly plump, and all dazed most of the time. Kathlene had wondered whether their old boss, Sheriff Lon Chrissoula, had kept George on out of kindness to him or to his large and needy family, and had thought their supervisor particularly sweet to have done so. Back then, George was just a deputy, like her.

But Sheriff Frawley had promoted him. Kerringston couldn’t have been happier. Or more loyal. He probably had few thoughts of his own, anyway, so he’d undoubtedly been delighted to become Melton’s second in command and pass along anything and everything his boss told him to.

“Thanks, George,” Kathlene made herself say. “Do you know what the assignment is?” She braced herself for something minor and useless that she’d hate.

Instead, though, it was something potentially important. “Yeah. You and a few others are being sent to patrol tomorrow afternoon’s meeting of the county commissioners.”

“Oh? Great. I’m on my way out now but will check more about it when I go off duty later.”

“Okay.” He looked her square in the face, then let his gaze roll lustfully down over her body, which made her freeze and want to go take a shower. When she glared angrily back at him, she’d have sworn he was about to drool.

Before she could say anything, he turned. Lord, couldn’t the man even remember to tuck in his uniform shirt? He wasn’t only a sleazy, unintelligent goon, but he was also a slob who only made the sheriff’s department look bad.

But Melton obviously didn’t care. He had this guy’s undivided allegiance.

Some other deputies were just entering the building. They looked at her curiously, and she just shot them a smug smile that was intended to tell them this was a fine day and she was doing just great, thank you. Never mind what she was thinking inside.

She wondered what overprotective Jock Larabey would have thought about her exchange with Kerringston. Good thing he wasn’t here.

At least her trading of lustful expressions with Jock was mutual—and they both understood that acting on any real sexual interest between them simply wouldn’t happen.

Kathlene scanned the street in front of her. There were only a few pedestrians along the sidewalk. Not much automobile traffic, either. She wasn’t sure where Jimmy was, but he was obviously taking his time getting here to pick her up.

Well, that was fine. She would use the time to her benefit. She decided to make a quick phone call—to Commission Chair Myra Enager. Myra was Tommy X’s lady friend. She was also a friend of Kathlene’s. Maybe even a reason why Kathlene remained with the Clifford County Sheriff’s Department. Myra was both a role model for a woman’s being in charge of something important around here and a sounding board for Kathlene to vent when things here didn’t go well.

Not that she would abuse her authority and tell Sheriff Frawley where to go on Kathlene’s behalf. And that was fine with Kathlene. She would handle this, like everything else in her life, herself.

As she would tonight, when she was supposed to pretend that she wasn’t part of the team she had gotten in place here. Jock and Ralf might have heard her promise to stay away this time.

But she would use her own definition of staying away.

“Hi, Myra,” she said after a secretary at the commissioners’ offices had gotten her on the line. “I hear there’s a meeting tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s right,” Myra said. “I was going to contact you about it. You might want to attend. The main topic to be discussed is my proposal for the enactment of local laws to help enforce state regulations that protect wildlife and require the arrest of poachers.”