“You never know it all. Biology and behavior, ecological role, distribution and habitat, even mythology. It adds to the wealth, and the more there is, the better we know how to preserve the species. Plus, funding. Contributors like to see and hear and know cool stuff. I give the new girl up there a name, put a shot of her on the Web page, and add her to the Track-A-Cat section. Funding. And by exploiting her, in a sense, I add to the coffers going to protect, study, and understand her and her kind. Plus, I want to know.”
She looked his way. “And tell the truth, it’s a great way to start the morning.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“Fresh air, a good horse under you, miles of what people pay good money for in art books, and an interesting job to do. It’s a good deal.” She cocked her head. “Even for an urbanite.”
“The city’s not better or worse. It’s just different.”
“Do you miss it? Your work there?”
“I’m doing what I want. Just like you.”
“It counts. Being able to do what you want. You’re good at it. The horses,” she added. “You always were.” She leaned over to stroke her gelding’s neck. “We’re still going to dicker over the price for this one, but you were right. Rocky suits me.”
She frowned, slowed. “There’s our friend again.” She gestured at the tracks. “He cut across, picked up the trail here. Long strides. Not running but moving fast. What the hell is he up to?” Something tripped in her heart. “He’s heading toward the grassland. Toward the cougar.”
Even as she spoke, the scream ripped and echoed. “He’s there. He’s up there.” She pushed the horse into a gallop.
The scream echoed again, full of fury. And the third, high and sharp, cut off with the snapping report of a gunshot.
“No!” She rode half blind, dragging at the reins to steer around trees, clinging, pushing as her mount raced through the snowpack.
She slapped out at Coop when he pulled up alongside and grabbed her reins. “Let go. Get off! He shot her. He shot her.”
“If he did you can’t change it.” Shortening Rocky’s reins, he kept his voice low to calm the horses. “There’s somebody up there, armed. You’re not rushing up, risking breaking that horse’s leg and your neck in the bargain. Stop. Think.”
“He’s already got a good fifteen, twenty minutes on us. She’s trapped. I have to-”
“Stop. Think. Use your phone. Call this in.”
“If you think I’m just going to sit here while-”
“You’re going to call it in.” His voice was as cold and flat as his eyes. “And we’re going to follow the tracks. We’re going to take it one step at a time. Call your people, see if the camera’s still up. Have them report the gunshot. Then you’re going to stay behind me, because I’m the one with a real gun. That’s it. Do it now.”
She might have argued with the tone, she might have argued with the orders. But he was right about the camera. She pulled her phone out while Coop took the lead. “I’ve got a rifle if I need it,” she told him.
She reached a sleepy-voiced Tansy. “Hey, Lil. Where-”
“Check the camera. Number eleven. The one I fixed yesterday. Check it now.”
“Sure. I’ve been watching since you called. I went out to check on the animals, brought Eric back with me so… Hell, it’s down again. Are-”
“Listen to me. Cooper and I are about twenty minutes from the site. Somebody’s up there, been up there. There was a shot.”
“Oh, my God. You don’t think-”
“I need you to put the police and game warden on alert. We’ll know in about twenty minutes. Get Matt on call. If she’s wounded I’ll get her in. We may need an airlift for that.”
“I’ll take care of it. Stay in contact, Lil, and be careful.” The line clicked dead before Lil could respond.
“We can move faster than this,” Lil insisted.
“Yeah, and we can move right into the crosshairs. It’s not how I want to spend my morning. We don’t know who’s up there, or what he has in mind. What we know is he has a weapon, and he’s had time to run, or find cover and lie in wait.”
Or he could have doubled back, Coop thought, and even now could be setting himself up for some human target practice. He couldn’t be sure, so he couldn’t follow the urge to immobilize Lil and tie her to a damn tree while he went on without her.
“We’d better go on foot from here.” He turned his head, met her eyes. “It’ll be quieter, and we make smaller targets. Take your knife, the drug gun, the phone. Anything happens, you run. You know the territory better than anyone else. Get lost, call for help, and stay lost until it comes. Clear?”
“This isn’t New York. You’re not a cop anymore.”
His gaze was frigid. “And this isn’t a bag-and-tag anymore either. How much time do you want to waste arguing with somebody who’s bigger than you are?”
She dismounted because he was right, and loaded a small pack with what she felt she needed. She kept the tranquilizer gun in her hand.
“Behind me,” he ordered. “Single file.”
He moved quickly, covering ground. She kept pace as he knew she would. Then he stopped, pulled out his field glasses, and using the brush for cover, scanned the grassland up ahead.
“Can you see the cage?”
“Hold on.”
He could see trampled snow, the line of trees, the jut of boulders. Countless opportunities for cover.
He scanned over. The angle was poor, but he could see part of the cage, part of the cat. And the blood on the snow.
“I can’t get a good look from here. But she’s down.”
Lil closed her eyes for a moment. Even so, he watched grief rush over her face. “We’ll cut over, come up behind the cage. It’s better cover.”
“Okay.”
It took longer, and the way was a battle with incline, knee-deep snow, rough and slippery ground.
She shoved through brush, accepted Coop’s hand for a boost when she needed it.
And on the bright, crisp air, she scented blood. She scented death.
“I’m going out to her.” Lil’s voice held calm and nothing else. “He’d have heard us coming if he stuck around. He’d have had time to circle around, take cover, and pick us off if that’s what he wanted. He shot a trapped animal. He’s a coward. He’s gone.”
“Can you help her?”
“I doubt it, but I’m going out to her. He could’ve shot you last night, the minute you stepped out of the tent.”
“I go first. Nonnegotiable.”
“I don’t care. Go on, then. I need to get to her.”
Stupid, he told himself. A risk that solved nothing. But he thought of helping Lil set up the cage, how he’d watched with her as the trap sprang.
He couldn’t leave the cat there.
“Maybe you should fire a couple of rounds, so he knows we’re armed, too.”
“He might take that as a challenge.” He glanced back at her. “You’re thinking it’s easier to kill a trapped animal, or an animal anyway, than it is a human being. It’s a mistake to think that. It depends on who’s doing the shooting. Stay back, and stay down until I tell you.”
He stepped into the open.
For a moment his skin was alive, his muscles tight and tensed. He’d been shot once, and it wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat.
Overhead a hawk circled and cried. He watched the trees. A movement brought his weapon up. The mule deer waded through the snow, leading the way for the herd that came behind.
He turned and walked to the cage.
He hadn’t expected her to stay once he moved, and of course, she didn’t. She stepped around him, knelt on the frozen ground.
“Would you turn the camera on? If he didn’t wreck it, that is. We need to document this.”
In the cage, the cat lay on her side. Blood and gore from the heat of the shot soiled the ground. She buried the urge to open the cage, to stroke, to mourn, to weep. Instead, she contacted her base.
“Tansy, we’re bringing the camera back up. The female’s been shot. A head wound. She’s gone.”
“Oh, Lil.”