winds, is what I’d call the real Wild West. I came to pick your brains about lamb.”
He burst into that rich kind of male laughter she loved. “Before I knew you wrote for that particular magazine, I thought you might be a photographer my grandfather sent up so you could get some spectacular photographs of the mountains.”
“There’s a thought.” She clutched the pillow. “So, when do you fight fires?”
“Several times a week when I’m back in town. But I also have a ranch to run.”
“Your grandfather wasn’t exaggerating about you.”
“He always exaggerates,” he corrected her.
She could believe it, but she also knew that for Royden the sun rose and set with his grandson. “Before we say good-night, do you mind telling me what you did today before I arrived?”
“Is this for research?”
“Yes.” Well, that and she wanted to know everything about him.
“We brought down the last four hundred head of ewes and rams over rough mountain terrain and streams from the ten-thousand-foot level where they’ve spent the summer. Once we start down, they wander off if you’re not chasing them every second. They get lost, caught in shrubs and trees, nearly drown and can fall off cliffs on the way.
“Considering the ewes are pregnant, that makes the journey down more treacherous. If the lamb lovers of this world knew what we go through, they’d pay us billions for the privilege of being served lamb chops and roasts at the dinner table.”
“Can I quote you on that?”
“Why not? Now, I don’t know about you, Alex, but I’m exhausted. Let’s sleep on the subject, and tomorrow I’ll answer all your questions after we have breakfast and I check the herd with Pali.”
He had to be worse than exhausted. She turned on her other side, away from him, so she wouldn’t be tempted to talk anymore. Alex’s mind filled with pictures of him chasing her instead of sheep all over creation, until oblivion took over.
Lamb.
Wyatt’s tired body shook with silent laughter. He knew where this woman had come from and why. But he didn’t understand his grandfather’s agenda.
Had he really not known a blizzard of this magnitude was coming? For that matter, Jose had taken off so fast, his swift exit seemed orchestrated.
Wyatt knew his grandparents had worried about him since high school. A month ago he’d told the whole story to his attorney. Was it possible the private investigator he’d hired could find Jenny? Had the miscarriage ruined her life?
How did her parents live with themselves after hiding their daughter where Wyatt couldn’t find her? How could they have left Whitebark without telling anyone where they were going? The cruelty of never seeing or hearing from her again had astounded him.
But maybe now he’d be given some information. After eleven years, he prayed to God for some closure on what had happened to Jenny.
His grandparents had hoped and prayed he’d meet another girl. Of course he’d met a lot of them, but no relationship had touched his heart.
Now, suddenly, a beautiful woman had been deposited at his sheep camp, unprepared and unequipped, relying totally on him for her survival. If this really was orchestrated by his granddad, Wyatt didn’t know the man had such a devious streak. The more he thought about it, though, he didn’t buy that this was a mere coincidence.
If this was his grandfather’s scheme, then Wyatt couldn’t fault the magazine writer who’d played into his grandfather’s hands by accident. The innocent woman who slept across the tent from him had been the ideal pawn.
Talk about the perfect storm.
* * *
WHEN WYATT WOKE UP the next morning, he pulled on his parka and boots. Alex was still asleep. Looking outside the tent, he was reminded of his last thought the night before. This perfect storm had created a white world! Without the driving wind, quiet reigned, but the snow still fell.
Wyatt stepped outside and whistled. His truck was more than half-buried. He walked with difficulty in the thigh-deep snow. Pali’s trailer was barely visible. Imagining that his friend was busy digging out, he went back to the tent for the shovel and started to make a path to the privy tent. Alex would need it when she awakened.
As he came back to the entrance, he almost bumped into her. Their eyes fused.
“Mr. Fielding—good morning.”
“It’s Wyatt. I think we’re long past formalities.”
She nodded. “I can’t believe all this snow! I never saw anything so beautiful in my life. Maybe this trip will make a photographer out of me. But how do the sheep handle waking up to this wonderland when they can hardly move?”
“Much better than we humans.”
“Why is that?”
He kept shoveling as they talked. “Is this the writer asking, or just curiosity?”
“Both.”
She had a forthright personality he liked. “Sheep have some very effective ways of keeping warm. Their wool insulates them, holding in body heat and resisting the penetration of water. You’ll see snow on their backs. The reason it doesn’t melt right away is because the body heat is kept in by the fleece. In addition, they’re ruminants.”
“What does that mean?”
“They chew on their cuds and have four-chambered stomachs. This process generates a lot of heat. The more forage a ruminant eats, the more heat its body produces.
“Our pregnant ewes, in which growth of the fetus results in heat production, stay even warmer as their pregnancy progresses. In fact, ewes carrying multiple fetuses have to increase their respiratory rate just to get rid of body heat. This is one of the reasons they benefit from shearing during the last six weeks of gestation.”
“I had no idea.”
“Keeping the sheep outside during the winter benefits both them and me. They need the ventilation and increased exercise. Most of the cases of respiratory disease that I have to treat occur in animals that are housed in a barn during cold weather.”
“Why is that?”
“The cause is the buildup of moisture and ammonia in the air. It damages the lining of the respiratory tract, interfering with its resistance to infection. Worse, the stale, humid air transmits viruses and bacteria into the airways. This combination of factors leads to coughing, sinus infections, bronchitis and pneumonia.”
“Kind of like children in a day care center.”
“Exactly. Sheep that live outdoors breathe fresh, drier air and aren’t
