work.”
Her lips fell open. This was not what she’d expected when Minette said they’d take pictures of a rancher. This man wasn’t what he appeared to be.
“No need to look threatened,” he told her, and his pale eyes twinkled as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t have arrest powers anymore.” He scowled. “Have you done something illegal? Is that why you look intimidated?”
“Oh, no, sir,” she said quickly. “It’s just that I was listening for the sound of helicopters.” She smiled vacantly.
He burst out laughing. He glanced at Minette. “I believe you said she was a junior reporter? You didn’t mention that she was nuts, did you?”
“I am not nuts, I have read of people who witnessed actual alien abductions of innocent cows,” she told him solemnly. But her eyes were twinkling, like his.
“I haven’t witnessed any,” he replied, “but if I ever do, I’ll phone you to come out and take pictures.”
“Would you? How kind!” She glanced at Minette, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Now about that conservation award, Mr. Patterson...”
“Mr. Patterson was my father,” he corrected. “And he was Mister Patterson, with a capital letter. He’s gone now, God rest his soul. He was the only person alive I was really afraid of.” He chuckled. “You can call me Wolf.”
“Wolf?”
“Wofford...Wolf,” he said. “They hung that nickname on me while I worked for the Bureau. I have something of a reputation for tracking.”
“And a bit more,” Minette interrupted, tongue in cheek.
“Yes, well, but we mustn’t put her off, right?” he asked in return, and he grinned.
“Right.”
“Come on and I’ll show you Patterson’s Lone Pine Red Diamond. He won a ‘bull of the year’ award for conformation, and I’m rolling in the green from stud fees. He has nicely marbled fat and large—” he cleared his throat “—assets.”
Minette glanced at Michelle and shook her head when Wolf wasn’t looking. Michelle interpreted that as an “I’ll tell you later” look.
The bull had his own stall in the nicest barn Michelle had ever seen. “Wow,” she commented as they walked down the bricked walkway between the neat wooden stalls. There was plenty of ventilation, but it was comfortably warm in here. A tack room in back provided any equipment or medicines that might be needed by the visiting veterinarian for the livestock in the barn.
There were two cows, hugely pregnant, in two of the stalls and a big rottweiler, black as coal, lying just in front of the tack room door. The animal raised his head at their approach.
“Down, Hellscream,” he instructed. The dog lay back down, wagging its tail.
“Hellscream?” Michelle asked.
He grinned. “I don’t have a social life. Too busy with the bloodstock here. So in my spare time, I play World of Warcraft. The leader of the Horde—the faction that fights the Alliance—is Garrosh Hellscream. I really don’t like him much, so my character joined the rebellion to throw him out. Nevertheless, he is a fierce fighter. So is my girl, there,” he indicated the rottweiler. “Hence, the name.”
“Winnie Kilraven’s husband is a gaming fanatic,” Minette mused.
“Kilraven plays Alliance,” Wolf said in a contemptuous tone. “A Paladin, no less.” He pursed his lips. “I killed him in a battleground, doing player versus player. It was very satisfying.” He grinned.
“I’d love to play, but my husband is addicted to the Western Channel on TV when he’s not in his office being the sheriff,” Minette sighed. “He and the kids watch cartoon movies together, too. I don’t really mind. But gaming sounds like a lot of fun.”
“Trust me, it is.” Wolf stopped in front of a huge, sleek red-coated bull. “Isn’t he a beaut?” he asked the women, and actually sighed. “I’d let him live in the house, but I fear the carpets would never recover.”
The women looked at each other. Then he
Her lips fell open. This was not what she’d expected when Minette said they’d take pictures of a rancher. This man wasn’t what he appeared to be.
“No need to look threatened,” he told her, and his pale eyes twinkled as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t have arrest powers anymore.” He scowled. “Have you done something illegal? Is that why you look intimidated?”
“Oh, no, sir,” she said quickly. “It’s just that I was listening for the sound of helicopters.” She smiled vacantly.
He burst out laughing. He glanced at Minette. “I believe you said she was a junior reporter? You didn’t mention that she was nuts, did you?”
“I am not nuts, I have read of people who witnessed actual alien abductions of innocent cows,” she told him solemnly. But her eyes were twinkling, like his.
“I haven’t witnessed any,” he replied, “but if I ever do, I’ll phone you to come out and take pictures.”
“Would you? How kind!” She glanced at Minette, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Now about that conservation award, Mr. Patterson...”
“Mr. Patterson was my father,” he corrected. “And he was Mister Patterson, with a capital letter. He’s gone now, God rest his soul. He was the only person alive I was really afraid of.” He chuckled. “You can call me Wolf.”
“Wolf?”
“Wofford...Wolf,” he said. “They hung that nickname on me while I worked for the Bureau. I have something of a reputation for tracking.”
“And a bit more,” Minette interrupted, tongue in cheek.
“Yes, well, but we mustn’t put her off, right?” he asked in return, and he grinned.
“Right.”
“Come on and I’ll show you Patterson’s Lone Pine Red Diamond. He won a ‘bull of the year’ award for conformation, and I’m rolling in the green from stud fees. He has nicely marbled fat and large—” he cleared his throat “—assets.”
Minette glanced at Michelle and shook her head when Wolf wasn’t looking. Michelle interpreted that as an “I’ll tell you later” look.
The bull had his own stall in the nicest barn Michelle had ever seen. “Wow,” she commented as they walked down the bricked walkway between the neat wooden stalls. There was plenty of ventilation, but it was comfortably warm in here. A tack room in back provided any equipment or medicines that might be needed by the visiting veterinarian for the livestock in the barn.
There were two cows, hugely pregnant, in two of the stalls and a big rottweiler, black as coal, lying just in front of the tack room door. The animal raised his head at their approach.
“Down, Hellscream,” he instructed. The dog lay back down, wagging its tail.
“Hellscream?” Michelle asked.
He grinned. “I don’t have a social life. Too busy with the bloodstock here. So in my spare time, I play World of Warcraft. The leader of the Horde—the faction that fights the Alliance—is Garrosh Hellscream. I really don’t like him much, so my character joined the rebellion to throw him out. Nevertheless, he is a fierce fighter. So is my girl, there,” he indicated the rottweiler. “Hence, the name.”
“Winnie Kilraven’s husband is a gaming fanatic,” Minette mused.
“Kilraven plays Alliance,” Wolf said in a contemptuous tone. “A Paladin, no less.” He pursed his lips. “I killed him in a battleground, doing player versus player. It was very satisfying.” He grinned.
“I’d love to play, but my husband is addicted to the Western Channel on TV when he’s not in his office being the sheriff,” Minette sighed. “He and the kids watch cartoon movies together, too. I don’t really mind. But gaming sounds like a lot of fun.”
“Trust me, it is.” Wolf stopped in front of a huge, sleek red-coated bull. “Isn’t he a beaut?” he asked the women, and actually sighed. “I’d let him live in the house, but I fear the carpets would never recover.”
The women looked at each other. Then he
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