Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
ZACH
I’m feeding Galaxy, the neglected colt Barb rescued two days ago, when the kick of gravel alerts me to an approaching vehicle.
It’s not even six o’clock in the morning. The Huttons are likely just waking up. I wipe my damp brow with my forearm and step into the center of the barn so I can see down the driveway.
It’s the sheriff.
He pulls his green Ford to a stop in the driveway loop adjacent to the barn. Meaning, he’s here to see me, not the Huttons.
Honey and Rex bound from the porch, tails wagging. Sheriff Olson climbs down from his truck, dropping out of sight to greet them, then walks around the front of his truck toward me. He’s a washed-out blur in the early sunlight, with both dogs trotting alongside him.
“Morning, Zach,” he says.
I have chores to do, so I give him a nod and step back into Galaxy’s stall. The sheriff is dressed casually in jeans and a gray camo-patterned hoodie. Instead of the tan cowboy hat he usually wears, a ball cap shades his dark, inquisitive eyes.
“Thought I’d drop by, see how things are going,” he says, pausing outside of the stall.
“Going fine.” I drop a load of poop into the wheelbarrow .
“Who’s this?” he nods at Galaxy.
“Rescue,” I reply.
“I thought Barb wasn’t doing that anymore?” he asks, but it sounds rhetorical.
I scoop another load of manure. I’m pretty sure Barb took on Galaxy because of me, but I’m not about to tell him that.
“I got some information for you,” Sheriff Olson says, bracing off the half-door.
The back of my neck prickles, and I give the sheriff a quick look.
“Kristov Stoll is contesting your guardianship of William,” he says, his face tense.
I brace off the pitchfork and shut my eyes.
“He says you’re a danger. Something about an arson fire?”
“I had nothing to do with that,” I grit out. Fuck!
That Kristov is making noise about the arson fire that destroyed my dad’s business is pure madness. If only I had proof that he’s responsible. Something stronger than my word.
“I’m afraid it won’t matter,” he continues, his gaze steady. “Heidi Jenkins is on your side, but?—”
“You talked to Heidi?” I ask.
We stare at each other for one long, heavy second.
“She’s doing everything she can to keep your brother safe, but that plan you two cooked up won’t hold forever.” He wipes down his chin, then shuffles his feet. “What about your mom? Can you talk to her?”
“No.” My mom is so far gone to me, just the thought of seeing her again makes my skin burn. When I think about how she abandoned William, put him in danger like that…
“All right,” Sheriff Olson says in a calm tone, as if he senses my distress. “We’ll just have to hope the information I passed on to law enforcement up there is enough. And if it’s not…”
I’m afraid to open my mouth. There’s too much to say.
“I want to help you, Zach. But I won’t break the law to do it.”
“I never asked you to.”
“You’re right,” the sheriff says, nodding, as if to himself. “Yet you sure as hell aren’t going to get out of this mess without some kind of plan. ”
Galaxy shifts his weight and sighs, like he’s tired of this conversation too.
“Got a tip about a camp. I want to know how recently it was occupied and if there are others nearby.”
I set my pitchfork on the load and lift the wheelbarrow by the handles.
The sheriff opens the half-door for me. “I’ll leave the map for you.”
By the time I return from dumping the manure, Sheriff Olson is gone. But a folded topographic map with an X indicating my assignment is set on top of a hay bale. I unfold it so I can get a better idea of where this place is.
It’s in an area just off ranch property, not far from where I spotted the dirt bikes tearing through the wilderness the other day. This throws me. If it was Gabe I saw, does that mean he’s involved in this? I shake my head, but it does nothing to soften the worry in my gut.
The next morning, I start my shift early. After loading up one of the Finn River Ranch work trucks, I take the service road out the main gate, then drive up a forest service road paralleling the ranch’s perimeter fence, bouncing over the ruts. I flip on the radio to Springsteen’s “Badlands.” I’ve passed the last of the estates, so I roll down the windows and sing along. This was one of my dad’s favorites. It’s not only hopeful, it’s edgy, with The Boss in rare commanding form.
Scents of dry sage and sun-warmed pine fill the cab, the air crisp with the beginning of fall. Big puffy clouds drift west in the pale blue sky, their shadows creeping across the green-and-yellow landscape. Fuck, it’s pretty here. Open, almost welcoming.
Climbing steadily, I pass the far edge of the ski area and enter rolling foothill terrain, then descend into a broad, grassy valley. Here, the fencing has been modified with special gates so wildlife can access their winter range. The gates won’t be activated until early winter, when the animals move to lower ground.
Before coming to Idaho, I had never seen so much fence. According to Henry, there are thousands of miles of it, and a good percentage are abandoned or in disrepair. I park a few feet from a Finn River Ranch property warning sign and a surveillance cam, then grab my pack.
It doesn’t take me long to find the abandoned camp tucked into a grove of trees. I’m no wilderness expert, but the trash and the faded scraps of a tarp look very old. The low branches of several trees have been snapped at their base, maybe to make a fire, yet there’s no evidence of one. I hike north, following a game trail through the scrub, looking for evidence of use.
My thoughts drift back to my conversation with Sheriff Olson. Trusting the McCabes to keep William safe, with Heidi watching over the legal custody angle, is my plan. That and not getting hauled back to Alaska by law enforcement to explain myself.
What other plan is there?
When I top a grassy rise, I startle a doe and two fawns feeding on the lush grass. They take off like lightning, disappearing into the trees above.
A distant screech pricks the hairs on the back of my neck. I follow the sound across the valley bottom, squishing through a marshy section and up to a forested ridge. The cry is louder here. It sounds like an animal.
In the trees, the temperature drops, and the dry pine needles kick up dust as they crunch under my boots. I keep going, following the sound, until I reach a section of old barbed wire fencing, loose in sections and rusted and tangled with undergrowth in others. Movement in my peripheral vision makes me jump.
Ahead, the fencing extends across a scrubby sage prairie. Caught between two wires is a giant owl. Working to free her is a woman in jeans and thick work gloves, her back to me.
“Stop!” I call out, racing down the slope.
The owl screeches and tries to yank her wing free of the wire. One of its talons is wrapped around the lower wire, but her efforts to lift off are only making her situation worse, and she’s stressed.
Sofie whips around, her eyes blazing. “I need to cut her loose!”
I drop my pack and grab my leather gloves and a set of wire cutters. “Not until we make sure she’s not going to fly off with wire stuck in her wing. Do you have something to cover her head?”
Sofie huffs like she wants to disagree. “I’ve got a spare shirt.”
“Get it.” Slowly, I step closer to the owl so I can see how badly she’s tangled. Her ebony eyes track my every movement. Even though I’m going to try to help her, she doesn’t know that. I’m a threat, and right now, she can’t defend herself.
“Okay,” Sofie says, panting.
“We have to protect her and us at the same time,” I say in a calm tone, not taking my eyes off the owl. Her left wing is hooked up on a single barb, like she was in the middle of decelerating, wings wide open. She’s in an awkward and extremely vulnerable position.
“Tie the top of your shirt shut, then use it like a hood over her head.”
“She’s not going to like that.”
“It won’t be for long, and it might help calm her down. I’d like to keep my eyes from getting gouged.”
Sofie gets busy next to me, then steps behind the owl and lifts the makeshift hood. Our eyes lock as she lowers it. The owl instantly startles but calms once the hood is in place.
“I’ll hold her talons while you cut the wire.” Getting the owl’s strong talons secure in my gloved hands takes some creative maneuvering, but her fierce grip tells me I’ve got her.
The wire is old and stiff with rust and likely to spring at us if we’re not careful. “Take out the lower one first.”
“I know.” She lines up her cutters near the metal post behind us.
Twang . The lower wire releases, slapping my shins. Frightened, the owl tries to pump her wings but I keep her steady and locked in place so the barb doesn’t dig any deeper. Even if we get her free of the wire, this much stress isn’t good for her and can even hinder her chances of survival.
Sofie steps behind me, her focus on lining up her next cut, but the feel of her so near, her panting breaths in synch with my racing pulse, makes this already risky endeavor feel supercharged. Heat prickles down my spine and pools low in my core.
“Right there,” I say to Sofie, nodding at a space between two barbs where her cutters will be more effective. “As soon as you cut through, I need you on the other side of her.”
Sofie gives a whimper, but I don’t think she’s aware of it.
“It’s okay,” I say to encourage her. “We got this.”
“Right.” She squeezes the cutters, her face scrunching into a grimace.
Twang .
The owl, sensing the change in the tension she’s desperate to escape, tries to flap her giant wings, but she’s not free yet.
“Quick!” I bark. She’s impossibly light in my hands yet incredibly strong. Her talons curl into my gloves like razors.
Sofie jumps to the other side of me. With one hand to steady the wire, she lines up her cutters on the other side of the wing.
Twang .
Now the bird is free of the fencing, but there’s a section of loose wire attached and flapping around in her struggle to be rid of me.
I kneel and use my thigh to help gather her talons in my right hand so I can secure her wings against her body by tucking them at my left side. She screeches and tries to yank her feet from my grip, but once I have her bundled, she quiets.
Sofie kneels in front of me, her face tense.
“Can you see where it’s hung up?” I ask, trying to be gentle with my hold yet firm so the owl feels safe enough. “It’s okay to touch her.”
Sofie’s worried gaze flicks to meet mine. “You sure? I don’t want to make it worse.”
“Run your fingertips along her wing edge.”
Sofie rips off one of her gloves and refocuses on the task. “Here!” In one motion, the wire comes loose and falls into the grass.
“Is she cut? Is it deep?” I ask.
“How would I know?” Sofie parts several layers of feathers, her mouth scrunched in concentration. “I don’t see anything.”
“Stand back.” I rise and release my hold on the owl’s wings. Immediately, she spreads them, revealing her snowy white plumage edged with soft brown. I would admire it if I wasn’t so worried about death by wing flap.
“What do we do?” Sofie asks.
“Take off her hood.” I watch the owl carefully. Her wings look balanced. No obvious weakness. No blood. Nothing misshapen the way a fracture would present. And she’s tugging against my hands with impressive force.
“Let’s get in the open,” I add, carefully stepping over the cut fence and walking further so that when we release the owl, she’ll fly in the opposite direction.
Extending my arms to keep her beak from my face, I nod at Sofie, who reaches from behind the owl, her face pinched with worry.
Slowly, Sofie pulls up the makeshift hood. The moment the owl is uncovered, I loosen my grip on her feet.
She lifts off in a blur of beating wings, her plumage a perfect match with the dry hillsides. My heart thuds hard against my ribs as I watch the owl melt into the landscape.
“Think she’s going to be okay?”
She flew off easily enough, but it could be her last dose of strength. We’ll likely never know. “Hard to say.”
Sofie swipes at her cheeks.
“Hey, hey,” I say softly and step closer. The adrenaline from the rescue is ebbing through me, making me feel hollow. Is that how it’s affecting her too? “We did everything we could.”
Sofie nods. “Yeah.”
Despite the warning bells screaming in my head not to get any closer, I wrap my arms around her shoulders.
She sighs into my chest, like I’m exactly what she needs. Her body against mine is foreign, yet the longer I hold her, the more relaxed I feel. Being close to her like this goes against every survival instinct I’ve relied on since leaving home, but I can’t seem to pull away.
“Do you think she was trapped here for very long?”
I give the surrounding area a slow scan, taking in Sofie’s backpack, a half-empty water bottle, and, in the shade of the trees, a shovel. Several coils of wire glint from the shadows.
“She was alive, so no.”
“I’m glad you were here.”
“Me too.” I should let her go, but she’s tucked so perfectly against me, like a wild thing in search of shelter. Like she knows she can trust me. It’s unsettling to share such an intense history with a person, yet I barely know her .
“You out here alone?” I ask.
“We were supposed to have a work party today, but it got canceled.”
“But you came anyway,” I say, frustration edging my tone.
Sofie leans back to fix me with a curious glance. “You’re out here alone.”
I don’t have time to argue with her, and based on how stubborn she is, I doubt I’d get very far. But if Sheriff Olson is right and this region is being used as a pipeline, it’s not safe for her or anyone else to be working alone out here.
An unwanted memory of a girl in a hospital bed flashes through my mind. Terrilynn was so close to obtaining her freedom. But Kristov got to her first.
Emotions I don’t understand stir faster than I can stuff them down. As if she can sense this, Sofie steps back.
I release a measured sigh, but it doesn’t help. It’s like my past and present are playing tug-of-war.
“Why are you out here?” she asks. “This isn’t Finn River Ranch land.”
Back to being nosy. “You need help with this?” I nod at the area of fence we clipped apart to free the owl.
She frowns, like she can’t decide if she should press me to answer her question or accept my offer.
“I want to finish clearing this prairie section.”
“Then will you go home?”
That scowl again. It would be irritating if it wasn’t so damn cute. “Maybe.”
I snug up my gloves and step back over the fencing. “Then let’s get to it.”