Upon getting back to the cabin, Ty was surprised to find that she’d set out snacks for them. “How long are you planning on being out there?” he asked, masking his amusement at the array. More water was good, but she’d found his stash of energy bars, grabbed a couple of apples from the bowl on the counter and thrown in a couple of candy bars she must have had herself. She’d also apparently had a small folding backpack in her luggage, because it was also on the counter.
“Better to lug it and not need it, I believe someone said?”
He smiled at that. And noticed yet again he’d done more smiling in the last twenty-four hours—almost—than he had in weeks. There hadn’t been much to smile about with all the chaos going on around Colton Construction. Nothing like finding a couple of bodies sealed up in one of your old buildings to put the blight on your outlook.
“Sounds like a smart guy,” he said, glad to see that she took it as he’d meant it, jokingly.
“So, we’re clear to go?”
He nodded. “Nothing out there but some wildlife. Didn’t see a single snake, by the way.”
“Thank goodness.”
He walked into the kitchen, over to the erasable note board on the fridge. He unclipped the marker and scrawled a note.
“Tree down?” Ashley asked, having followed him in and read past his shoulder.
He nodded as he put the marker back in place after noting the location. “First one of us with the time and energy will cut it up for firewood. Which is good, because we’ll need more by next year. If we spend much time up here this winter, we’ll go through what we’ve got.”
“Can’t you buy more?”
“If we can find some local wood, but out here most people use up their own. The motto is buy it where you burn it. So people don’t bring in new invasive species or transport new pests.” He gave her a sideways look. “But you probably know that.”
“I knew about the federal policy, but I confess, not the motto. Sounds effective.”
“Personally, I think the photos of forests peppered with dying trees are more so, but the words do stick in your head.”
She seemed to hesitate, then said, “You don’t disagree with my goals, then.”
Uh-oh. He resorted to his usual response in tricky areas like this. A shrug. “Doesn’t matter if I disagree. Nothing to do with my job.”
“But you follow the policy?”
“It makes sense.”
“And if it didn’t?” Another shrug. “So you do disagree?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he repeated.
“I’m curious.”
“Then you’ll have to stay curious,” he said firmly. He was not going to get into a debate with a client. If he made her mad, she’d be less likely to cooperate and that could be dangerous. “You ready for this hike?”
To his relief, she let it drop, although something in her expression had him thinking the reprieve was only temporary. She hadn’t gotten to where she was today, an advocate with a reputation for getting things done, by letting things slide. And he doubted many people told her no, anyway.
He tucked the snacks into an outside pocket on his backpack, and she did the same. She also slid her phone into the back pocket of her snug jeans. The pocket that curved over her delightful backside.
Lucky phone.
The errant thought put an edge in his voice when he said, “If you’re hoping for reception out there, don’t count on it.”
Her chin came up. “I was thinking about photos. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not as long as none of them see the light of day before the threat has passed.” He hesitated, then added, “You do realize this is a risk, going out like this?”
She met his gaze. Then she sighed. “This is selfish of me, isn’t it? Putting you in a position where it will be harder to do your job?”
Her sudden, unexpected admission wiped away the rest of his warning. “Worry about the risk to you, not my job.”
Her mouth quirked. “Kind of entwined, aren’t they?”
He shrugged. “You’re in danger. But you shouldn’t have to be a prisoner. So be aware but let me do...what I do. Oh, and about those pictures, I’d prefer you didn’t advertise the exact location to the world. We’d like to keep this little corner as it is.”
“So you do believe in preservation? Or only of what you yourself own?”
“I do believe in preservation, and right now that means self-preservation, so we’re not having this discussion.”
“Coward.”
He didn’t rise to the obvious bait. “You’d better hope not.”
“Point taken,” she admitted. And she didn’t quibble about him leading the way. But then he already knew she wasn’t foolish, just determined. And maybe the tiniest bit spoiled. Nothing like he would have expected, of course. Those assumptions again.
Once they’d crossed the cleared area around the house and got into the trees and underbrush, the walking grew harder. But she didn’t comment and got through easily enough. He was hyper-attuned to their surroundings, on guard, but he still noticed she often turned sideways to avoid breaking branches and managed to avoid stepping in places that were more muddy and neatly dodged rocks. She obviously hadn’t lied; she was used to this.
And she was smiling. Constantly, although it widened whenever they encountered wildlife, and turned to a delighted grin when he stopped her and pointed out a couple of black-tailed prairie dogs, which she’d never seen before.
“They don’t hibernate?” she asked, watching the two small creatures in the distance.
“Not fully. There’s a stage in between they go into at night in the winter, to lower their metabolism.”
“Torpor,” she said. And then laughed as the animals called out to each other. “They really do bark!”
“Hence the name,” he said.
“What else have you seen out here?” she asked as they walked on.
“Year-round? The usual. Lots of squirrels, gophers and rabbits. Raccoons, we’ve got a ton of those. Foxes, as you saw. Badgers. Coyotes occasionally. And last summer I swear I saw those last two working together.”
“Working together?”
He jerked a thumb back toward the prairie dogs. “Hunting those guys.” She winced, just slightly. “Don’t like the laws of nature?” he asked.
“I try not to dwell on things I can’t change and focus on things that I can,” she said, “and I understand the food chain and its necessity in the natural world.”
“Harder when the prey is little and cute, though.” Her gaze sharpened. “At least, it is for me,” he added.
And again, quickly, she went from the edge of offense to laughter. “I thought you were jabbing at me again.”
He shook his head. “Hey, I’m as big a sucker for a cute, furry face as anyone.”
She looked back toward the prairie dogs, or rather where they had been. They’d vanished now—maybe those barks had been a warning. He made a mental note of that. There was nothing here that would be truly dangerous to humans, but a hungry coyote was always something to be aware of.
“How did they work together, the coyote and the badger?”
He kept it as bloodless as he could. “The prairie dog’s instinct is to burrow away from the fast coyote, who can’t really dig deep, and run from the slower badger, who can. The badger scared one into running, then the coyote pounced.”
She looked thoughtful. “That makes sense. Each using their particular skills.” Her brow furrowed. “But did the coyote share? That seems unlikely.”
“No. But I assume it works in reverse, that the coyote scares the prey into the burrow for the badger to dig out, often enough to make the partnership worthwhile for both.”
“So even though they’re competitors...”
“Yep. We could learn from them, I think.”
“I wish we would,” she said with a sigh. Maybe she wasn’t quite as innocently optimistic as her parents feared, because that hadn’t sounded at all confident.
They were some distance farther on when she stopped again. He turned back and saw her tilt her head as if listening intently. He smiled. “Meadowlark. Our state bird.”
“It’s a beautiful call. Your favorite bird?”
“Well, as a born and bred Kansan, I should say yes, but I’m more of a raptor guy.”
She smiled. He was really getting to like that smile. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Of course, I do have a soft spot for roadrunners, ever since I saw one once, down near Coffeyville.”
“Too many cartoons as a child, perhaps?” she asked innocently. Too innocently.
“Don’t tell me you watched cartoons?” He said it with as much feigned shock as he could manage. “A woman with your upbringing?”
He got the laugh again. “We’re just shattering assumptions all over the place, aren’t we?”
“Well, there’s the little fact they feed on spiders, too. Oh,” he added, giving her a raised brow, “and snakes.”
“My new favorite bird.” She was still laughing, and as they started to walk again, he had the craziest wish that she wasn’t a client, that they just...were. Together. Under other circumstances.
But they weren’t. She was a client. A job.
And even if she weren’t, she was way, way beyond his reach.