for Roscoe, but old age was catching up with her companion on a daily basis.
A knock at the back door caused her to spin around. Roscoe let out a feeble half bark then laid his head on his paws.
“Good morning,” she said as she opened the door to Anderson. “Want some eggs and toast?”
“I don’t want to be a bother but I don’t have many supplies in the bunkhouse yet, except some aged coffee I found in one of the cabinets, so I’d like breakfast.” He took off his hat. “I forgot and wore this. Habit.”
Jennifer took the hat, the warmth of it causing little sparkles of awareness to shoot up her arm. “I’ll hang it on the hall tree over here by the fireplace. You can wear one of our baseball caps.” She grabbed an old one off the hall tree. “It has our logo on it.” And why did his cowboy hat look right at home amidst her array of scarves, coats and her own hats?
He immediately went to Roscoe and bent down to talk to the dog in soothing tones. “He must have been a contender when he was younger.”
“He’s a purebred golden retriever,” she said, smiling at Roscoe. “So yes, he was awesome and spoiled rotten.”
“Well, the old fellow needs to be spoiled. He’s obviously had a good life with you here.”
She motioned to the kitchen. “We weren’t always here. We traveled a lot. After my parents divorced, my dad gave me Roscoe for my fourteenth birthday, I guess as a peace offering. That poor dog has been all over Texas and Louisiana. My mother never could find the right spot to settle. So we came back here a few years ago but…after Daddy died, she took off again. She’s in Arkansas now.”
“Sorry about the divorce,” he said. “That’s got to be hard on a child.”
“It was. My mother never quite got over my father. Since he traveled so much, she stayed home for a long time. She’s had a hard time since his death. We both have.”
“Sounds like you’ve been through a lot.”
She turned away from the sympathy in his eyes. How could she explain to this man that her father had been an adventurer first and a family man second? She imagined Anderson fell into that category, too, since his job was demanding and never-ending. “Well, I don’t have time to dwell on that this morning.”
“Can I help with breakfast?”
“Sit down,” Jennifer replied. “I can manage a couple of eggs and toast. The toast might be burnt, however.”
“Won’t hurt me. I have an iron stomach.”
She couldn’t argue with that. At least, he looked lean and mean and made of steel. “How about you, Ranger-man? Tell me about your family.”
Jennifer loved family stories. Her friends always teased her about that. But she loved listening to their parents talk about how they fell in love and why they’d managed to stay married through thick and thin. And always wondered why her parents hadn’t done the same. Now she lived vicariously through her friends because she didn’t expect her own happy ending.
Anderson settled in his chair and stared up at her. “I have two younger brothers in their twenties and a baby sister, who’s sixteen. Talk about spoiled. We’re close, I reckon. I mean, we have our spats like anybody but when push comes to shove—”
“You stick together,” she said, tossing the words over her shoulder at him.
“Yes. Isn’t that what families do?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, pouring eggs into the frying pan to scramble. “Mine didn’t.”
“My mama makes sure we do,” he said, his tone softening. “Church every Sunday and hard work on Monday. That’s her favorite saying.”
Jennifer turned to look at him. “You know, I believe in God, but church was never high on my parents’ agenda. My dad believed the whole world was a cathedral and he loved to explore it. He believed God was right there in the waterfalls and the mountains, the rivers, the oceans. I guess that’s how I learned about religion.”
“And your mother?”
“The original free-spirited, new-wave hippie, fifty-five now but going on twenty-two.”
“I see. And what about you now? Do you go to church?”
“Is that part of your job, Ranger? To show me the way?”
He looked sheepish, hung his head. “Sorry. I just thought—”
“Your eggs are ready,” she said, without rancor. She should be rankled at his question but it didn’t bother her. He was right. She should get back into church. “I’ve been so busy lately,” she said with an inadequate shrug. “That’s the only excuse I have.”
“I had no place asking you that,” he retorted, waiting for her to sit down. “Never mind me.”
That would be hard to do, Jennifer decided as they ate their breakfast in silence. The man filled the room with a demanding presence, like a giant tiger staking a claim.
Finally, he said, “So what’s your typical day like?”
“Now there’s a subject I can handle,” she replied. “Tell you what, rather than explain it, how about you give me time to instruct and update the two volunteers due in a few minutes. Then I’ll take you on rounds with me and you can watch and learn. And I expect you to pull your weight, too, Ranger-man.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, getting up to help her clear the dishes. “Hard work on Monday.”
“It’s Wednesday,” she quipped. “And still, it’s hard work, every day, all day.”
“I don’t mind hard work. But I do have a problem with hardened criminals. By the way, I took a walk back to the new gator pond last night. Spent the night out there.”
“You did? I guess you were serious about staking the place out. Anything happen?”
“Not a thing. Not yet. But we’ll catch ’em.” He winked at Roscoe.
Jennifer thought she saw the old dog wink back.
Two hours later, Anderson wondered how Jennifer managed to do it all. The woman was a bundle of energy, whirling from task to task with obsessive determination, her love for her animals as evident as her need to keep this place going. But even with a few volunteers, how long could she keep up this pace?
“So you do this every morning?” So far, they’d fed the alligators and the horses, washed down several small animal pens, spoon-fed a passel of hungry turtles—both land tortoises and more water-inclined sea and snapping turtles—mushy bits of dog food and handfuls of worms, cleaned out some of the box turtles’ aquariums and checked on a wounded hawk in the aviary.
She let out a chuckle. “Tired, cowboy? Listen, this is just the beginning of my day. But, yes, I have to feed the animals every day either in the morning or at dusk, and with some of them, both. The horses like to be fed about three times per day. I get relieved about twice a month, thanks to the other animal lovers
