* * *
Jason followedthe four-wheeler’s tracks down the road, the others behind him, the wind ice-cold. They moved faster now, partly because the sign was easier to see than it had been in the forest and partly because they were heading downhill.
Jason stepped over a large pile of horse manure. “I wonder why he’s getting onto your property at that location. Why drive all the way up this road? This is Cimarron land here to our left, isn’t it? Why not cut the fence somewhere closer to the pasture?”
“Good question.” Deputy Marcs fell in beside him, ponytail swinging. “There are miles of fence line here. He could have cut through at any point. Why spend the fuel and the time driving up here?”
“There has to be a reason the poacher chose that spot.” Jason considered the possibilities. “Jack, are there any natural obstacles?”
“There’s a steep ravine. He could be trying to avoid it.”
“Why wouldn’t he try to enter your land below the ravine?” That seemed a lot easier to Jason. “The pastures are down here, not up there.”
Nate had that answer. “That would put him near the Forest Service parking area—and a lot of potential witnesses who might wonder what a guy with a rifle, a freshly bagged kill, and a wolf is doing out here.”
Jason turned to Winona. “Would a wolf be a problem around people?”
“If he has a wolf, he’ll do his best to avoid people and other canines. Wild wolves never become pets. Even hand-reared ones like Shota and wolfdog crossbreeds remain pretty wild. Their behavior can be unpredictable. They can be wonderful, but people have been mauled and even killed by animals they thought were tame.”
Then Jason saw another breach in the fence. “Someone cut through here, too.”
“Is it the same guy?” Deputy Marcs asked.
“I don’t know how long ago this happened. There might not be any sign left.” Jason searched the ground for wolf tracks, tire treads, boot prints, or anything else that might offer information about who had done this. “There.”
Under the canopy of a tall pine was a small section of tire tread. In the center was the telltale flying chevron.
Nate knelt beside Jason. “The bastard must have tried here first and found himself cut off by the ravine. Then he did some recon and moved farther up the mountain.”
“Looks like it.”
They kept going down the road and soon came to a creek. About ten feet wide from bank to bank, it bisected the trail. Someone had placed a couple of boards over it to act as a bridge. The water wasn’t deep, but the erosion and sand deposits on the downhill side told Jason that the creek frequently overflowed.
“This part of the road floods in the spring,” Jack said.
Jason crossed the makeshift bridge—and the trail went cold. He stopped, doubled back, tried again, moving more slowly. When that yielded nothing, he walked farther down the road, hoping to pick up the trail again, but he found nothing. “The trail stops here. He might have driven up the creek bed. We can follow this onto Forest Service land and see what we find.”
Deputy Marcs zipped her parka to her chin. “We get squatters on Forest Service land sometimes. I’ve helped rangers clear off more than a few.”
Jack stopped, looked up at the sky. “I think we ought to call it a day. Those storm clouds are headed this way, and the temps are dropping fast. It will take us longer to get back up this trail than it took to get down. I’m guessing it will be a few hours before we get back to our vehicles.”
They turned and hiked back up the road.
They hadn’t gone far when Jason spotted a rough-looking man with a long beard, long hair, and a sidearm standing off to the side of the road, a grin on his face.
“I don’t like the feel of that guy,” Deputy Marcs whispered.
Neither did Jason. “He looks like one of those squatters you mentioned. No backpack. No winter coat. No vehicle or mountain bike.”
Jason wasn’t one to judge someone based on their appearance, but there was something about this guy. It wasn’t the hair or the beard. It was that smile—and the way he was looking at them. Jason had long ago learned to trust his instincts.
He caught up with Winona. “Stay close, okay?”
She nodded.
They drew even with the man, who hadn’t taken a single step.
“Well, look at that.” The man chuckled. “A lady deputy.”