“So far, what I’ve seen looks like a lone wolf.”
“It wasn’t a pack.” Winona glanced around the pasture, the wind catching strands of her dark hair. “If a pack had attacked that steer, there’d be several drag trails and depressions in the grass where pack members sat down to feed. They would have left some of the larger bones, maybe hide. There would be something here.”
Jason motioned to them to follow him. “There’s more.”
He led them back to the kill site, knelt, and pointed. “There are lots of boot tracks around the place where the steer fell. At first, I figured they belonged to you, but you’re both wearing cowboy boots. Some of these tracks have deep tread with a circle in the center of the heel. What kind of boots were you wearing when you covered the site?”
Nate lifted a foot, showed Jason the tread. “These same cowboy boots.”
Jack scowled. “I don’t like where this is going.”
Jason stood, led them back toward the gate. “There are drops of dried blood on the grass. I also found tracks with that same deep tread, as well as a few wolf tracks. The wolf left the pasture the same way you entered it—through that gate.”
Winona met his gaze, understanding in her eyes. “The wolf didn’t kill the steer.”
Jason looked from Nate to Jack. “Your predator walks on two legs.”
“Son of a bitch.” Jack removed his cowboy hat, ran a hand through his gray hair.
Nate swore under his breath. “A poacher.”
“That fits with what Winona found on the remains of the head.” Jack left it to Winona to explain.
“There are tooth pits and scoring on the bones, which could be from a wolf. I think coyotes and a squirrel got at it, too. But on the last vertebra, there’s a striation that must have come from a knife.”
Jason put the pieces together. “Someone killed the steer, probably with a firearm. Then he dressed it, cut it into manageable pieces, bagged it, and carried it away. The wolf probably fed on the viscera and the head.”
Nate glanced back down at the wolf track. “The wolf must have been drawn by the scent of carrion.”
Jason wasn’t sure about that. “Winona’s the wolf expert.”
“A wolf would definitely be drawn by the smell of the kill. Wolves aren’t obligate carnivores, so, unlike mountain lions, they do eat the digestive organs of ungulates, including the rumen. It could have followed the scent trail left by the blood droplets over to the gate. An adult wolf would have no trouble jumping over the fence. But there’s another possibility.”
“What’s that?” Jack asked.
Winona seemed to hesitate. “It’s just a hunch.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“It’s strange that you found wolf tracks at all of the kills. I would expect a lone wolf to range over a territory of hundreds of square miles. There’s a chance that the wolf might belong to the poacher.”
* * *
Winona helpedJason cover the spot where the steer was killed to protect the evidence. She was conscious of his every movement, every breath, every glance, her senses heightened, some kind of awareness stretching between them.
He’s taken. Don’t forget that.
“Hold the tarp down so I can hammer in these stakes.”
She dropped to her knees and held down one edge of the tarp, fighting to keep the wind from taking it.
Jason glanced up, his gaze catching Winona’s. “Are you disappointed that it’s not a wolf pack?”
“A little.” Winona couldn’t deny it. “I would love to see wild wolves back in Colorado. I’m also relieved. At least now, I don’t have to worry that ranchers are going to start killing them out of fear for their livestock.”
“You can’t shoot what isn’t there.”
“I’m impressed with how quickly you put it together.” She’d only watched him work for a few minutes, but she’d found it mesmerizing—the way he moved, the concentration on his handsome face, his ability to read the land at a glance. “Who taught you to cut sign?”