Caroline looked back to the burrowing owl den, ignoring the tightness in Duke’s jaw. “Well, Duke, burrowing owls are actually quite fascinating. They don’t actually dig these burrows themselves; they use holes abandoned by other animals, like prairie dogs or even armadillos here in Texas.”
Dawson, who had caught up to them, listened intently, his aquamarine eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and concern. “How long dothey usually stay in one place?” he asked, brushing a hand along the side of his face, as if he had something there he didn’t like.
“They’re somewhat nomadic, depending on the availability of food and the safety of their environment,” Caroline explained, her eyes scanning the sparse landscape that stretched beyond the burrows. “They can stay in a suitable burrow for several years if it remains undisturbed. But they’re also capable of moving on if they feel threatened or if the area becomes unsuitable. It’s part of their survival instinct.”
Duke crossed his arms, looking over the land that had been planted with winter wheat. “And expanding their nests?” he pressed, his voice tinged with a hint of worry.
Caroline nodded. “They can expand their nesting area, yes. As their population grows, they’ll need more space. It can lead to a larger colony if left unchecked, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing unless it conflicts directly with your ranch operations.”
Which of course it would. One look at these two grouchy cowboys confirmed that in a single breath. Ruffin whined softly and edged over to her, nudging Caroline’s hand with his nose. She gave him a reassuring pat but remained focused on the brothers as she stood. “The presence of these owls can be a sign of a healthy ecosystem,” she finally said, attempting to sound smart and tell them that their ranch had a healthy environment. “I know it’s not what you want, but we’ll need to be careful with land management here.”
Dawson nodded, his gaze drifting towards the horizon. “It’s God’s creation, after all. We’re just stewards,” he murmured. His words hung in the air, a gentle reminder of their responsibility to the land and its creatures.
Caroline’s pulse tripped over itself, because while she’d suspected Dawson had a lot of deep thoughts he didn’t let come out of his mouth, she hadn’t expected to be touched by one of them. She hadn’t expected this man who’d caused her so much anxiety and grief over the past several months to be…soft. She hadn’t expected tolikehim.
Duke also didn’t seem to share the sentiment, because he asked, “But what if it comes down to choosing between the crops and the owls?” in a gruff, growly-bear voice. “This land isn’t just our livelihood; it’s our legacy.”
“I honestly don’t think it’ll come to that,” she said. “There’s usually a breeding pair with some other solitary birds. This is a small space; they won’t be able to stay if their flock is very big, and there are only two of them here.” She glanced around as if another few owls would come swooping in.
“I’m not sure how long they’ve been here,” she said. “They could have bones and such inside the burrow.” She sighed and looked over to Dawson, then quicklyrebounded her attention to Duke. “We really don’t need to do much but make sure this habitat doesn’t get disturbed. I can bring out some fencing and mark it off properly, and then you can keep doing what you do out here.”
Her stomach vibrated a little bit at what she needed to say next. She wished she’d brought a bottle of water with her, as the sun beat overhead, and talking to these two men had left her mouth dry. “You’ll have to be more conservative during breeding season, as loud machinery and whatnot can disturb that.”
“When’s breeding season?” Dawson asked.
“Starts about March,” Caroline said, glancing over to him. “Runs through the summer months. We find a lot of owls move on after their chicks are raised.”
“You’re talking almost a year,” Duke said. “Of us tiptoeing around these owls.”
Caroline fixed him with her best law enforcement look. She’d had to take courses in law enforcement to become a Wildlife Conservation Officer, and she’d once been awarded a certificate for having the sharpest glare. “Yes, Mister Rhinehart,” she said. “That’s right. These owls are protected by the State of Texas, and?—”
“I know,” Duke said, cutting her off. He held up one hand. “I’m sorry. It’s not you I’m upset with.” He looked over to the little brown owls with the bright yellow eyes. “Like my father says, if it’s not one thing, it’s another.”
Duke looked over to Dawson. “You’re in charge ofthis. Brandon, Kevin, and I will stay away from whatever gets marked off out here.”
“Yes, sir,” Dawson said, and Caroline wasn’t sure why those words and his acquiescence to his brother made her heartbeat quiver, only that they did.
“Okay, well, I have to keep checking this fence. We’ve got predators coming onto the ranch somewhere, and I’m determined to find the break in the line today.” With that he walked away, leaving Caroline with a very silent and very straight-faced Dawson.
She wanted to say something to cheer him up, but she didn’t know what. She wanted him to smile at her and act like he’d had a good time at breakfast. She wanted him toseeher.
No, sheneededhim to see her and respond to her.
She hadn’t had that in her previous relationship, and she would not allow another man to look through her, ignore her birthdays, forget their anniversary, none of it. She would not make herself smaller to spare his feelings. She would not make her own special dinners.
She blinked, and the sun shining in her eyes reminded her she no longer lived in the Hill Country, married to a man who barely seemed to know she existed.
If she was going to start something with Dawson that went beyond unanswered emails and bickering, she simply wouldn’t tolerate him falling silent and shutting down. She also couldn’t believe she’d actually thoughtabout starting something with Dawson—it was amazing what a good, home-cooked meal could do to a woman.
So you’ll tell him if the time comes,she thought as he nodded back the way they’d come. “Should we go?”
“Yes.” Her voice came out craggly and rusty, and she cleared it, so she could speak in a stronger, more authoritative voice. After all, she was not going to fold herself into a box to make anyone else feel good about themselves. Not again. Never again.
“Yes, let’s go.” As she walked back to the truck with Dawson and his dog, she wondered if he’d ever ask her to do that, and she started praying that he wouldn’t. Because she found herself interested in getting to know him and perhaps even becoming friends with him—and more than friends?—and that couldn’t happen if he couldn’t handle her coming back at him every once in a while.
Or if he never asked her out.
“Left here,” she said, and Dawson dutifully flipped on his turn signal.