Page 28 of Love Me Dangerous

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,ismy 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?”

Sofiehuffs 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.

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