“I’ve been ordered not to pursue, but no one said we couldn’t move into his camp.” Rifle raised, Deputy Marcs slowly got to her feet. “Chiago, have you seen any evidence that there’s more than this one bastard?”
“No. Nothing.” He stood.
Deputy Marcs looked at his face. “You’re bleeding.”
Jason held a hand to his cheek, found deep scratches on his cheek and forehead. “It’s nothing—just some flying bits of tree bark.”
He and Nate followed Deputy Marcs into the camp, the sound of the four-wheeler’s engine fading in the distance. But as they grew closer, they heard something else. Yapping. Whining. Whimpers.
Deputy Marcs stopped. “Jesus fried chicken! I think I know why this son of a bitch was poaching beef.”
There, locked in a large, covered dog kennel, was another wolf, but this one was a female. Close beside her were four good-sized pups.
The mother growled and bared her teeth at them, her tail up, her pups alert and clearly unsure what to make of the intruders. There, in one corner, was a sizeable bone.
Nate swore under his breath. “That’s a cow femur for sure.”
Deputy Marcs called in to dispatch to let them know they would need a team of wildlife specialists. “Yes, I said ‘wolf.’ Five, actually—a mother and four pups.”
Jason turned to Nate. “I’m going to look around.”
Jason snapped a photo of the animals with his smartphone, thinking he’d show it to Winona when they got back to the ranch. Then he and Nate moved through the camp.
Nate nudged open the large canvas tent with the barrel of his rifle. “He’s been here a while. He’s been cutting trees for firewood. He even built himself a floor out of split logs. Isn’t that cozy?”
There was also a makeshift wood stove made from an old steel barrel, wood piled high beside it. The man’s sleeping bag was raised off the floor by a frame of rough-hewn timber. Beneath the bedframe were tools and cans of .30-06 ammo.
Nate pointed at the ammo with his rifle. “There’s evidence.”
On the bed was a stack of porn mags, one of them open.
“Looks like we interrupted something.” Jason saw trap sets piled in the back and what looked like a bobcat fur stretched on a frame. “He’s been trapping, too.”
“We’d better warn people. He might still have traplines out there.” Nate shared this information with Deputy Marcs, who relayed a warning to others via radio.
Next to the tent was a large doghouse and, beside it, a heavy steel stake that had been driven deep into the ground. A thick steel chain was attached to the stake, the forest floor beneath it reduced to mud and covered with wolf tracks.
“I bet this is where he kept the other wolf.”
“I think you’re right.” Jason moved toward another structure and realized at a glance what this must be. “He’s been smoking your beef.”
The suspect had built himself a small smokehouse using rough-cut lumber, river stones, and clay. There was no fire burning at the moment, but hanging inside were strips of smoked beef, ribs, and a couple of briskets.
Nate took a strip of beef, sniffed it. “He’s resourceful. I’ll give him that.”
Deputy Marcs trudged over to them, an exasperated look on her face. “Wildlife says they can’t get anyone up here today. Sheriff Pella is putting in a call to your father, Nate. He’s requesting Winona’s help.”
Jason shook his head. “I don’t want her up here. We don’t know for certain that this son of a bitch won’t circle back or return with friends.”
“I’m just telling you what Pella said.”
“Damn it.” In the end, of course, it wasn’t Jason’s decision to make.
It was up to Winona.
And Jasonknewwhat she would say.
* * *