Page 21 of Operation Wolf: Hunter
CHAPTER 11
Hunter
MY FIRST STOP WASLucy’s on Main, the only diner in Bramblebush and the town watering hole during the day. I ordered a cup of coffee and a doughnut. Then I proceeded to ask around about Daniel and who had been working on the ranch before he had passed away.
The Bramblebush townsfolk were always friendly. They were happy to see me after I’d been away so long, but their cheery smiles disappeared pretty quickly when I started asking about Daniel. They told me that, as the rancher had gotten older, he’d started going crazy. Got real paranoid, they said, as if someone was out to get him. He’d fired all his ranch hands except one and cut his housekeeper’s days down to once a week, claiming he couldn’t trust anyone to be around him anymore. I managed to get the name of the housekeeper and the ranch hand and left the diner, troubled by what I’d heard.
Did Daniel really go crazy?
I got back into my truck and drove away. It certainly sounded as if he had lost it.
Why, in his right mind, would he have fired all his staff and let his ranch go downhill? Simply because he had been paranoid that one of them might hurt him?
Or was it more that Daniel had been paranoid he might hurt them? Had he sent them away for their own safety?
I could understand that. For a long time, I’d been afraid to go near my ranches or spend much time with anyone for fear that my wolf beast would take over, and I’d hurt someone. But the two of us had formed a harmonious relationship—sex life notwithstanding—over time, to the point that I could even approach and handle animals that were instinctively afraid of my darker half.
What had happened to Daniel to make him drive his own employees away?I doubted it had been something as drastic as turning into a hybrid wolf-shifter, but I didthink Daniel had been in some kind of danger.
It hurt my heart to think that my old friend had acted out of irrational fear and insanity and ended up destroying the ranch he’d worked so hard to build. No, more than likely, Daniel had had a good reason for what he did. And I was determined to find out what it was.
It took me several minutes to locate the dirt road that led to the housekeeper’s cottage, located on the outskirts of town. By that time, dark clouds were starting to gather on the horizon, signaling an impending storm. The woman’s name was Carla Jones, and I remembered her from my childhood—a sunny blonde and mother of two, who always had a kind word for everyone. She’d been Old Daniel’s housekeeper when I was a child, and I guessed she’d never moved on from the job.
Parking the car out front, I noticed that the house was small, probably no more than one bedroom, but meticulously maintained, the paint on the shutters and eaves new, and the window boxes bursting with brilliant flowers. No one came out to greet me, but I saw the green lace curtains shift slightly, and I knew from the small Ford pickup parked nearby that someone was home.
Taking off my Stetson, I approached the door and knocked politely. “Mrs. Jones?” I called. “It’s Hunter Golden. Do you mind if I call on you for a few minutes?”
The door opened, and Carla looked out at me through the screen door. Her blonde hair had faded to silver sometime in the last twenty years, and she had laugh lines around her eyes and mouth, but there was a haggard look about her and a watchfulness to her dark eyes that I didn’t remember.
“Hunter Golden,” she said slowly. Then a smile lit her face, softening some of the starkness of her features. “Oh, I remember you! You were that nice boy who always came out to keep Mr. Nash company and help him out on the ranch.” Her face fell a little at the reminder of her former employer, strengthening my suspicions that she knew something. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, see, Mrs. Jones, that’s just the thing.” I clutched the brim of my hat in both hands, trying to come off as contrite and as unassuming as possible, no small feat at six foot two and two twenty. “I’ve been over at Old Daniel’s ranch, trying to straighten things out after his death, and I’ve noticed some mighty strange things. I was hoping to talk to you to see if you could help clear up a few things for me.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Mrs. Jones pressed her lips together, casting her gaze away from me. “I’m sure you’ve gotten plenty of information from the townsfolk already.”
“Yes, but I’d like to ask you anyway and see if I can uncover a few more details.”
“I really don’t think I have anything new to tell you,” Mrs. Jones started to say. Then, she jumped as a clap of thunder shook the sky.
“Please, won’t you at least let me in for a cup of coffee?” I pleaded, grinning inwardly at the perfect excuse. “I’d hate to be caught up in the storm that’s coming. It’s bound to be a doozy.” I leaned around her a little bit, sniffing the air. “Is that your peach cobbler I smell? You always did make the best in town.”
“Oh, all right,” she relented, smiling a little. There was nothing like appealing to a woman’s vanity to get what you wanted. “You can wait the storm out in my parlor for a few minutes.”
She stepped aside to let me in and waited until I wiped my boots on the mat before taking my coat. “Why don’t you have a seat?” she said, pointing to the green velour love seat situated next to a matching recliner and couch, all arranged around a glass coffee table. “I’ll go fetch you a nice slice of cobbler.”
I glanced at the bright, floral-patterned carpet as Mrs. Jones quickly escaped into the kitchen, and I wiped my boots again before sitting down. I looked around at the cream-colored wallpaper and still life paintings that decorated the walls and paused to admire some of the knickknacks littering the brass mantel above the fireplace. Everything was clean and neat and in its proper place, which I imagined made sense, as Mrs. Jones undoubtedly had little else to do but clean, bake, and rearrange the furnishings.
She came back with the cobbler she had reheated and a mug of steaming black coffee. “Sugar and creamer are right here,” she told me, gesturing to the two small silver containers on the coffee table.
“Thank you.” I ignored both the sugar and creamer and sipped the strong black coffee, which was piping hot. Not wanting to lay right into her and scare her off, I took a bite of cobbler, closing my eyes and savoring the dessert. “Just as good as I remember,” I said, smiling.
“Why, thank you.” Mrs. Jones beamed with pride. “I win a prize for it every year at the County Fair.”
“I’ll just bet you do.”
Rain started tapping on the roof, lightly at first and then turning into a stronger staccato. We made small talk for a few minutes, and I learned that her husband had passed away a few years ago, and her children had both moved out of state, searching for more lucrative pastures.
The rain was coming down in earnest now, drumming incessantly on the rooftop and drenching the lawn outside.
