The Novels of Nora Roberts, Volume 5 (18 page)

“What is it?”

He held up a hand to silence her, used it to gesture her back into her tent. Ignoring that, she moved toward him.

“What?” she said again.

“Somebody was out here. That direction.”

“Could’ve been an animal.”

“It wasn’t. He must’ve heard me inside the tent, opening it. He took off, and fast. What the hell is that for?”

She glanced down at the tranquilizer gun. “For immunizing. Including humans, if necessary. I heard you out here, but I couldn’t be sure it was you.”

“Could’ve been an animal.”

She hissed out a breath. “Okay, yes, you probably know the difference as well as I do. What the hell is that for?” she demanded, pointing at the 9mm in his hand.

“For immunizing.”

“Jesus, Cooper.”

Rather than respond, he went back to his tent, came out with a flashlight. He handed it to her. “Read the tracks.”

She shone the light on the snow. “Okay, that’s you, likely moving off from the campsite to empty your bladder.”

“You’d be right about that.”

“And that’s another set of tracks, coming from across the stream, cutting this way. Walking. Heading north, that’s at a run, or at least a good lope.” She huffed out a breath. “Poacher, maybe. Somebody looking to set up a hunting stand, spotted the campsite. But hell, the tracks look like the ones up by the cage. Could still be a poacher. Just one who likes to screw around.”

“Maybe.”

“You probably still think like a cop, or a PI, so everyone’s a suspect. And you’re probably thinking I’d have had trouble if you weren’t here.”

“Wow, now you’re a mind reader.”

“I know how it goes. Believe me, you wouldn’t be thrilled to take a hit with one of these tranqs. And believe me, I can handle myself. I’ve been handling myself for a long time.” She paused just long enough to make sure that sank in. “But I appreciate the advantage of numbers. I’m not a fool.”

“Then you’re asking yourself how he moved so fast, and straight for the trail, in the dark. Moon’s set. It’s getting lighter now, but it was pitch.”

“His eyes adjusted or he has infrared. Probably the latter if he’s scouting a hunting site in the dark. He knows what he’s doing. I’ll report it, but—”

She broke off at the beep inside her tent. Forgetting everything else, she dashed back, dived inside. “There she is! Son of a bitch. You must be my good-luck charm. I didn’t expect to get a look, not really. There’s that beauty,” she murmured as she watched the young cougar scenting the air at the far end of the grassland. “Coop, come see this. Come on.”

She shifted to give him an angle on the screen when he eased in. “She’s got the scent of the bait. Stalking, keeping to the shadows and the brush. Secretive. She can see in the dark, keen eyes. The cage is an unknown, but inside it? That scent. God, she’s beautiful. Look at her.”

She seemed to swim across the snow, bellying down.

Then she was up, and Lil caught her breath at the flash of speed, the
power.
Leap, bound, streak. Even as the trap sprang, the cat had the bait in her jaws.

“We got her. We got her!” On a triumphant laugh, Lil grabbed Coop’s arm. “Did you see how—”

She turned her head. Her mouth nearly collided with his in the close confines of the tent. She felt the heat from him, saw the glint of his eyes, those ice blue eyes. For an instant, just an instant, the memory of him, of them, flooded her.

Then she moved back, out of the danger zone. “I need to get my gear. It’s nearly dawn. It’ll be light enough to see the trail soon.”

She picked up the radio phone. “You’ll have to excuse me. I need to make a call.”

9

Since she had more to pack up and deal with than he did, Coop fried up some bacon, made coffee. By the time she’d made her calls, gotten her gear, he’d put a trail breakfast together and set his campsite to rights. He was saddling his horse when she came over to saddle her own.

“What are you going to do with her?”

“Immobilize. With the drug gun I brought, I can get within two feet of her, inject a dart into her without hurting her. I’ll take blood and hair samples, gauge her weight, age, size, and so on. Fit her with a radio collar. Thanks,” she added, obviously distracted when he handed her a mug of coffee. “I plan on giving her a small dose, but it’ll keep her out a couple of hours, so I’ll have to stand by until she comes out of it, recovers. Until she’s recovered fully from the drug, she’s vulnerable. It’s a good day’s work, but if things go well, by noon she’ll be on her way, and I’ll have what I came for.”

“And what does all that give you?”

“You mean besides satisfaction?” As the sun pinked the rims of the eastern hills, she swung into the saddle. “Information. The cougar’s listed as a near-threatened species. Most people, I’m talking people who live and travel in known cougar territories, never see one.”

“Most people wouldn’t be you.” He mounted, offered her one of the bacon biscuits he’d put together.

“No, they wouldn’t.” She looked at the biscuit, then at him. “You made breakfast. Now I feel guilty about bitching about you coming along.”

“That’s a nice side benefit.”

“Anyway”—she took a bite as they turned the horses toward the trail—“most of the sightings reported turn out to be bobcat, or the occasional pet. People buy exotic cats—and we get calls every month from someone who did, and doesn’t know what the hell to do now that Fuzzy isn’t a cute little kitten anymore.” She took another bite. “But mostly, people see a bobcat and think—holy shit, cougar. And even on the rare occasion it is holy shit, cougar, most people don’t understand it isn’t looking for man meat.”

“There was a woman right in Deadwood a year or so ago who almost had one join her in her hot tub.”

“Yeah, that was cool.” Lil polished off the biscuit. “The point that might be missed is it wasn’t interested in her—didn’t attack. It was stalking deer and ended up on her back deck at the same time she was having her soak. It took a look at her, probably thought, Not dinner—went away. We encroach, Coop, and you don’t want to get me started on my conservation riff, believe me. But we do. So we have to learn how to live with them, protect the species. They don’t want to be around us. They don’t want to be around one another unless it’s time to mate. They’re solitary, and while they interact with others higher on the apex in some habitats, we’re their only predator once they reach maturity.”

“Might make me think twice about putting in a hot tub.”

She laughed. “One’s unlikely to join you. They can swim, but they don’t much care for it. The girl up there’s wondering how the hell she got trapped? She’s got about another eight, nine years if she hits the average life span for a female in the wild. She’ll mate every couple of years, have a litter, again on average of three. Two of those three will likely die before their first year. She’ll feed them, defend them to the death, teach them to hunt. She’ll love them until it’s time to let them go. She might range a hundred and fifty square miles of territory during her life span.”

“And you’ll track that with the radio collar.”

“Where she goes, and when, how she gets there, how long it takes. When she mates. I’m doing a generational study. I’ve already tagged two generations through Baby’s littermate and a subadult male I captured and tagged last year in the canyon. I’ll start another with this one.”

They moved into an easy trot when the trail allowed. “Don’t you already know everything there is to know about cougars by this point?”

“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.”