In unspoken accord, we headed back down the trail. Chloe remained silent as we navigated the obstacles she’d so joyfully tackled on the way out.
The silence wasn’t a comfortable one, and I made an attempt at conversation. “It’s too bad about the coyotes. Peter will be upset. He used to enjoy watching them raise their family every year.”
“Yes.”
I tried again. “It’s nature’s way. Wolves and coyotes have been battling over territory for years. I guess the wolves really want this turf.”
No answer. She just kept walking, stepping through the tangles.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just upsetting.”
“I’m sorry we found that.”
“Me too, although it’s better to know. Let me tell Peter, okay?”
“Okay,” I said. Better to know? To know the coyotes were dead?
“I’ll tell him about the bison, too,” she said, and I stared at the long brown ponytail. It was a strange request. Was she worried about upsetting Peter? The guy had always seemed pretty tough to me. He’d miss the coyotes, but maybe he’d have wolves to watch now.
I shook my head, stepping over the last trunk before we joined the main path and turned for home. As we marched out onto the wider three-mile loop, I noticed the length of the shadows cast across the path. We’d been away much longer than I’d anticipated. And that meant Dillon would have returned and found her gone. With me.
I am sooo dead man walking.
That sentiment seemed to spring to six foot four of verified life when we returned to the house. As I clipped the lead on my suddenly snarly dog, I could feel the laser beams from across the yard. I can’t say I blamed him. If the situation were reversed, I would have been spitting fire. Chloe climbed the deck stairs to where he was standing.
“Dillon,” I said with a nod, stopping at the base of the stairs.
“Liam,” he growled back, his gaze never leaving Chloe. His nostrils flared as though he could scent something on her. For a second, there was a sick expression in his eyes, like that of a dog that had been kicked. Then the look hardened and he lit into her.
“Where’ve you been?”
“Out for a run.”
She mounted the steps and he grabbed her arm, hard. “With him?”
“Would you rather I ran alone?” She wrenched free, put her hands on her hips, and glared at him.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I interjected. “There are, uh, wolves around.”
“Wulves . . .” Dillon said the word oddly. He turned to me, and his gaze sharpened into one of pure hatred. “You stay the hell out of this.”
Okay, but be damned if I was going to leave until I was sure Chloe was safe.
She seemed unimpressed by the Sasquatchian attitude. “If I want to go for a run with Liam, I can. You aren’t my keeper, Dillon.”
Oh, man. This woman will break his heart. And likely mine too.
“If you wanna run, wait until I get home, and we’ll run.”
“I run with you all the time.”
Wait. She does?
Strangely, they both glanced at me, their expressions furtive. Chloe met my gaze and I swear she saw straight through to my heart. She dropped her eyes to the deck floor.
“I’m sorry you’re upset, Dillon. You don’t need to be.”
She reached out to touch his arm, and his expression softened. Aware of me standing right there, which I knew was the entire point, he pulled her into him for a hard, possessive kiss. For a moment she stiffened, and I thought she would fight him, but then she seemed to go limp in his arms. A hand snaked behind his neck and the other trailed up his chest.
Aaand, that’s my cue. Picking my heart off the ground, I said, “I’ll catch you guys later.” I moved on to my door, dragging Keen with me.
5
My inner frankenstein did not get me off extended duties, and I ended up on call on Good Friday. I swear every animal within a thirty-mile radius celebrated the coming of the long weekend by throwing themselves onto pointy objects or eating something indigestible. I ended up with a full day at the clinic and spent the evening on a double session involving a colicky horse. The animal took one sniff of me and decided it felt much better, only to succumb once more the moment I left. After a second visit, a lot of equine sedation, and a mineral oil flushing, the horse was fine. I, on the other hand, found myself considering the consumption of hard-core drugs. Although disguising my scent with perfumed soaps helped with the cats and dogs, horses saw straight through it. What they thought they perceived within me—I have no idea. Over the course of the last week, I had yet to work near a horse without it being sedated. In this instance, the owner had been a capable sort and was willing to administer the sedation herself. But if this—whatever it was—continued for much longer, it would call into question my career choice.
It was late when Keen and I finally got home, and I dragged myself out of the SUV. Twenty minutes later, I was back outside, walking stick in hand, my furry friend by my side, and the cool night air closing around me. After a long look at the entrance to the path, I headed for the road.
I left Keen off lead while we walked along our access road, but when we reached the mile intersection, I bent to attach her leash. At this time of night, the traffic was nonexistent, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
I breathed deeply, enjoying the peace and stillness of the night and admiring the dark and quiet little farmhouses with their accompanying outbuildings. I particularly loved the big old barns. The ancient wooden structures were the heart of their attendant farms. A trip inside them took you back in time. Here, the farmer milked the cows, lifted hay-filled nets into the vast lofts, kept a pig
