Page 7 of Operation Wolf: Hunter
The first place I stopped at was the cemetery. Kneeling, I placed a bouquet of wild flowers near Daniel’s headstone, surprised that only one other arrangement was there.
Has no one come to pay their respects to one of Bramblebush’s oldest residents?
Anger bubbled in my gut at the idea that Daniel had died alone and friendless. It wasn’t right, especially not in a community as close-knit as Bramblebush.
Leaning down, I sniffed at the other bouquet of flowers, trying to figure out who might have left them. They were beautiful, a mix of black roses and calla lilies, and as I inhaled, I caught a delightfully feminine scent, something like black cherries and vanilla. I definitely didn’t recognize it as belonging to any of the girls I’d grown up with in town, and I knew no cowboy around here would smell so girlie.
Maybe it’s that relative.That new girl on Daniel’s ranch.
More curious than ever to find out who she was, I finished paying my respects and mounted my horse, spurring the chestnut on toward Bridle Hill Ranch. Thirty minutes later, I was crossing the cattle guard that stood beneath the open iron gate and the arch emblazoned with the name of the ranch.
Daniel’s ranch was half the size of Golden Cattle, the landscape dotted with apple trees and a white clapboard house with a stable close to the center. As I rode over the acres, I frowned at the neglected state of the ranch. The grass was overgrown in several areas, indicating the cattle hadn’t been moved around much, and the small section of farmland where Daniel usually grew a few crops of grain or vegetables was barren, except for the weeds that had crept across the mounds of soil.
What the hell happened here?
The ranch had been Daniel’s pride and joy, and I couldn’t imagine the old guy letting it all go to shit like this.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, would you comeonalready?”
The sound of a loud, angry female voice, followed by the shrill whinny of a horse, had me spurring my own horse toward the commotion. I headed around the stables toward the corral, where a tall, curvy woman dressed in skintight jeans and knee-high black boots was attempting to drag a gelding toward the stables. She swiped one hand across her face, brushing away the long wisps of curly hair that had escaped from her bun, and she looked mad as a hornet. Before I could open my mouth to protest, she yanked angrily on the rope she’d looped around the horse’s neck, hurting the animal. He reared up with an angry neigh, knocking the woman over, and then dashed to the corral gate, butting angrily against it.
“Jesus!” I leaped from the chestnut and ran to the corral gate. I let myself in, resisting the desire to rush straight to the woman’s aid and instead went to soothe the gelding. “It’s all right, boy,” I murmured, taking it slow, the way I had with Misty. In a few minutes, I had things under control, including taking care of my own horse.
I heard a groan from behind me and turned to see the woman struggling to sit up. Her top was covered in dust, and her dark hair had fallen completely free of her bun, hanging past her shoulders in thick waves.
“Are you all right?” I asked, crouching down by her side and placing a hand beneath her back to help her up.
“Ugh.” The woman pressed a hand to the side of her head. “I’m feeling a little dizzy to be honest.”
“Here, let’s get you to the house.”
I helped her to her feet and led her to the clapboard house I’d spent many a weekend at, sitting on the porch, having iced tea with Daniel, playing cards or dice games, and listening to stories of Daniel’s younger days. The house had been spotless then, maintained by Daniel and his housekeeper. But now, I could see that the porch railing and steps needed repair, and several of the clapboards had come loose, with more fixing to follow.
I led the woman into the kitchen and sat her down at the rickety wooden table, trying to ignore the state of disrepair and general neglect oozing from the house.
I grabbed a bag of ice from the freezer. “Where did you get hit?”
The woman pointed to her side.
I crouched down. “Mind if I have a look?”
“Don’t see why not,” the woman muttered, lifting her shirt.
I sucked in a breath at the black-and-blue bruising that was already forming along her side.
“Ouch,” she hissed as I prodded gingerly at her ribs.
I tried to ignore how soft her flesh felt beneath my fingers, and I let out a sigh of relief when I felt that nothing was broken.
“You’ll be hurting for a few days, but it’s nothing serious,” I said, pressing the makeshift ice pack to her rib cage.
She let out a gasp and then a moan, and I gritted my teeth as my blood heated. To my surprise, my wolf growled, coming to the forefront.
I like this one,he uttered.
You havegotto be fucking kidding me,I snapped.
The woman was hurt and possibly suffering from a concussion, and my beast was having lustful thoughts about her.
