Page 48 of Operation Wolf: Hunter
CHAPTER 25
Kia
“HONEY, YOU REALLY NEED TOdo a bit more than just pick at that bowl of porridge,” Mrs. Jones chided. “You’re starting to resemble a bag of skin and bones, and that’s not good for my reputation.”
“I know,” I sighed, forcing a smile for the housekeeper.
Hunter had paid her salary through the end of the month, so Mrs. Jones would stay until I was gone.
“I just haven’t had much of an appetite.”
I hadn’t had much of a will to do anything since Hunter walked out the door three days ago. At first, I’d been relieved he was gone now that I knew he’d been hiding his true nature from me this whole time, putting me in danger with his monstrous secrets. But as time had passed, I found myself missing his quick smile, the sound of his laughter, the way he teased me at times, and his gentle but firm way with the animals. Often, I found myself turning around with a question on my lips for Hunter, only to remember he wasn’t here to give me guidance anymore. Twice, I’d nearly broken down and gone to Golden Cattle Ranch to beg him to come back.
But I knew there was no use in doing that. I’d already called up Samuel Bradley and agreed to sign the papers. He was coming by to deliver them tomorrow. And even if I could find it in me to put my pride aside and grovel before Hunter, it didn’t change the fact that I, or anyone else who owned the ranch, would be in danger from Samuel unless I just bit the bullet and sold the damn thing. I despised myself for giving in to the enemy, but I just didn’t think it was worth the risk to stand up to him.
Mrs. Jones clucked in disapproval at the measly three bites I’d managed before I pushed back my chair, but I didn’t say anything further about it. She and I had already had words about the situation, and while Mrs. Jones didn’t completely agree with my viewpoint, she understood. In the end, she had to respect my decision on the matter.
I put on my work boots and went out to do the normal chores of the day—letting out the horses, grooming them, putting feed in their buckets, collecting eggs from the coop, weeding the vegetable garden. Finished with that, I came back into the house, going upstairs to do one of the last renovation projects on my checklist—organizing the hall closet and throwing out any junk.
Mrs. Jones offered to help me, but I waved her off. I wanted solitude, and there was something about the work that was oddly peaceful. I sorted through boxes and bags of clothes and memorabilia, making separate piles for anything that seemed useful, anything I would be able to sell, and anything that was trash. It took me several hours to go through Daniel’s things, and I tried hard not to think about the fact that, if Hunter were with me, he would likely have all kinds of stories to tell me about the items.
Nearly done, I pulled out a heavy box that was filled with books and started going through them. Most of them were mystery novels, but a few were leather-bound journals filled with recordings of Daniel’s daily life. Curious, I opened one up, and it immediately flipped to an entry that made my heart stop.
8/22
An upstart by the name of Samuel Bradley came to call upon me today. Slick as a grease spot with a hoity-toity attitude and fancy words. Wanted me to sell the ranch to him, something about an oil field, and offered to cut me in on the profits. I told him I didn’t give a hoot about any oil field, that the ranch was mine, and I wasn’t digging it up for anything. The bastard was pretty persistent, refusing to leave, until I showed him the business end of my shotgun. That’ll teach him to mess with a Texan.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
So, Samuel hadapproached my great-uncle about the ranch. Guilt swamped me as I realized that Hunter was right, and I felt awful about dismissing his suspicions. Frantic to learn more, I flipped through the diary, skimming for any other clues. What I learned next about my uncle floored me. Suddenly, all of the pieces fell into place.
Oh my God. I am such a damn fool.
Leaping to my feet, I raced down the stairs, snatching my car keys from the hook by the door. “I’m going out, Mrs. Jones!”
“Where on earth to?” Mrs. Jones asked, looking up from the table she was dusting.
“To Golden Cattle Ranch!” I slammed the door shut, storming over to my vehicle and jumping in. I drove away like hell on wheels, hoping Hunter was still at the ranch and hadn’t yet left for greener pastures.
