Lady Killer

have killed my dad in a heartbeat if he’d ever laid a hand on her in anger. Guaranteed.”

Brooke had no answer for that. After a moment she said flatly, “I guess you were lucky, weren’t you?” And she walked away, once more feeling alone.

Tony watched her go, with the big dog trotting along beside her. He was wondering if there was some way he could take back what he’d said. Make it up to her, at least. Cut his tongue out, maybe?

Then he felt a moment’s intense and familiar longing, thinking of his dad’s rough, gnarled cowboy’s hands, hands that had been hard as iron but never any other way but gentle when they’d touched his children or his wife. When he was home, how the kids-the little ones-used to love to climb all over him, messing up his hair, tugging his mustache, taking off his cowboy hat and putting it on their own heads… And Mama, standing a little way off, just smiling in a quiet way. Like she was proud of him, Tony thought, even though he’d never brought home much money, for sure not enough for the eleven kids he’d given her to raise. Eleven kids that had somehow all gone to college, which he knew was mostly thanks to Mama, but still, it was his dad he missed with an ache that never seemed to get smaller, even though it had been fifteen years since the heart attack that killed him.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” he told himself out loud.

But he was watching the cougar now and thinking about the job, and the fact that if he was going to be able to get any decent shots of the animal, he was pretty much going to have to go inside the compound with it. Again, he flashed back to that day when he’d come face-to-face with a wild mountain lion, and the pact he and Elena had made afterward. He could see the tear tracks on her face and could hear her whisper, “She didn’t hurt us.”

He looked at the gate in the high chain-link fence, which was fastened with a chain but not locked. He looked at the lion, still lying on her side out there in the shade of the oak tree, gazing off into the distance. Maybe sleeping?

Are you dreaming, Lady? Dreaming about the days when this land belonged to you, and there was no one to contest your mastery of all your surveyed?

Ignoring him, anyway.

Scolding himself for his cowardice-and telling himself he could always beat a hasty retreat if the cat made a move toward him-Tony closed his eyes briefly, then unhooked the chain. It made what seemed like a hellishly loud noise.

Out in the compound, the cougar turned her head to watch him but didn’t get up.

“Nice kitty, kitty. Nice Lady…” he said on an exhaled breath as he slowly opened the gate and slipped into the lion’s den.

“You know what I was thinking?” Tony said to Holt after he’d told him about it that evening at the diner. “That it felt wrong, that animal having a fence around it. You know what I mean? The buffalo, the wolf, the lion and the grizzly bear-we’ve crowded them off their land, stolen it from them. Like the white man stole it from the Indians-my people.”

Holt’s eyes had crinkled up at the corners, but he swallowed the bite of steak he was working on before he said, with exaggerated seriousness, “Your people? How much Native American are you?”

Tony shrugged. “Okay, my mama’s about three-quarters Apache-maybe half, I don’t know-so that makes me less than half, but still. Doesn’t change what happened-to the natives or to the animals.”

“No,” Holt said agreeably. “So, the cat didn’t attack you, I gather?”

“Didn’t bat an eye. I was busy getting out all my equipment, and she just lay there, twitching her tail once in a while. Mind you, I didn’t try to go and pet her, or anything. But she pretty much ignored me the whole time I was in the pen with her. Even rolled over on her back and put her paws in the air and squirmed around-just like a big kitty cat, you know?” He paused to shake his head and let out a breath, remembering the sense of awe he’d felt. “It was…pretty amazing.” He picked up his fork and pointed it at Holt. “And if you ask me, it makes it pretty hard to believe that animal attacked somebody. Not without some serious provocation.”

Holt pushed his plate aside and sat back. His eyes had that Clint Eastwood glitter. “You said that deputy-Lonnie Doyle-made some threats?”

“Sure sounded like it. I was getting my equipment out of the car at the time, so I didn’t hear everything he said, but he seems to have a real hate for that cat. And no great love for Brooke, either.” He paused, giving himself time to control his voice before he added, “She’s afraid of him, I know that.”

“And he and Duncan Grant were best friends…” He left it dangling.

Tony sat and looked at him for a long moment, not saying anything. Then he shook his head…made a jerky gesture of rejection. “Nah. I mean, fistfights is one thing, but to shoot a guy with a tranquilizer gun and leave him to die in a lion’s cage? I can’t see it. What possible reason would the guy have to kill his best friend?”

“It happens,” Holt said. He leaned forward again, arms folded on the tabletop. “And when it does, it’s usually over one of two things. A woman or money.”

“Well, it’s not a woman,” Tony said. “Not this woman, anyway.”

“So,” said Holt, picking up his beer, “that leaves money.”

Brooke had stopped what she was doing-raking old bedding straw out of the horses’ stalls-to watch Daniel and Tony down in the pasture. As always, Daniel was surrounded by a motley herd of animals-horses, goats and alpacas. Tony stood close by and was obviously trying to ignore the goats nibbling at his pockets and shirtsleeves, looking for treats. Hilda was off down by the creek, nosing around, looking to scare up a squirrel or a rabbit to chase. A warm September breeze was blowing, bringing with it the smell of autumn and the sound of voices.

Daniel’s husky alto, first. “Yeah, but that’s just the way alpacas chew, see? They’re really tame, too-come on, you can pet ’em, if you want to…feel how soft their wool is…”

And Tony, his warm laughter soft as the alpacas’ wool on her ears. “You sure do know a lot about animals.”

Daniel, with a self-conscious shrug. “Yeah. I’m going to be a veterinarian. It takes lots of college, though. Almost as much as a real doctor. And I have to take a lot of math, which doesn’t make me very happy…”

“Hey, vets are real doctors. Especially nowdays.”

“I meant people doctors. You know. Actually, it’s harder to be a vet, ’cause animals can’t tell you what’s wrong with them. So you have to be twice as smart to figure it out.”

“True. But I think you’re going to make one helluva vet-oh, shoot. Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay. My mom says hell sometimes. Worse stuff than that, too. I already know I’m not s’posed to say it, you know, because I’m a kid…”

Brooke let go of a bubble of laughter, and when she put a hand up to stifle it, she was surprised to discover some moisture on her face as well. She brushed it away hastily, but it was harder to dispatch the ache of yearning that had come over her suddenly. A yearning she couldn’t put a name to, but that whispered, softly as the breeze, Oh, if only…if only…

Down in the pasture, Tony took off the Arizona Diamondbacks cap he’d put on to protect his scalp and wiped his head with his sleeve as he squinted at the lowering Texas sun.

“Speaking of math…” he said, and Daniel groaned.

“Don’t say it. I know…I have homework.”

Knowing how much he’d hate it, Tony resisted an urge to tousle the boy’s thick blond hair and instead laid his hand on one sturdy shoulder. “Just keep your eye on the prize. Keep telling yourself it’s what it takes to be a vet someday. You’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, but…I wish…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but walked with his head down, in his dejected slouch, as they made their way slowly up the slope.

Feeling helpless, Tony gave the kid’s shoulder a squeeze. While he was racking his brain for something to say to cheer him up, Daniel kicked at a clump of dried horse apples and said fervently, “I wish you didn’t always have to go.”

Oh, hell. He hadn’t expected that. It was like getting slugged in the stomach when he wasn’t prepared for it; it took his breath away.

“Hey,” he said softly. And then, after a little cough that was supposed to mask how moved he was, he added, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I know…”

“And,” he added, as inspiration struck, “you can always call me, you know. Anytime.”

Daniel’s head came up, and smoke-blue eyes-his mother’s eyes-shone bright in his flushed face. “Really?”