and back up to Bernie. “Looked like an animal attack.”
“Any idea what?” Sheriff Hodges twirled an unlit cigarette in his fingers but didn’t light up. He’d told Mac he was in the second week of his campaign to quit smoking after thirty years in the habit. “We’ve had several reports come in about missing animals in the area. Might be a pattern.”
Mac shook his head. “Too dry for tracks. But whatever it was had to be big enough to take down a goat weighing more than a hundred pounds.”
“I’m missing a lamb, haven’t seen her since the day before yesterday,” Tom said. “Thought maybe its mother wasn’t feeding and left it laying somewhere out in the brush. I looked, but didn’t find a carcass. Not even any buzzards.”
“I lost a calf last week,” Bernie Odom said. “I found it, but the buzzards had taken care of the remains. Didn’t think much of it at the time. You tend to lose the small ones for one reason or another. Especially as dry as it is out here. But a breeder is an entirely different story.”
“Kinda reminds me of way back when we had the big drought some thirty years ago. Animals kept disappearing all mysterious like,” Bernie mused. “Think it ended up being a wolf. Isn’t that right, Hank?”
Hank’s hand hesitated over a game piece, and he glanced over at Art Nantan, the feed-store owner. “That’s right. Got quite a few lambs, goats and a couple calves.”
“Took one of my prize Merino lambs that year my breeder came in first at the state fair,” Art said and shrugged. “Happens when you’re in ranching. Thank God I’m not ranching anymore.”
“Nor are a lot of us,” Jack Adams grumbled. “If it weren’t for droughts and the animals dying, the big farming and ranching conglomerates were going to put us out of business eventually. Sure miss the old place, though.”
“What are you complaining about?” Art asked. “You telling me you don’t want to work at the feed store?”
“No, no,” Jack said. “You know I appreciate havin’ the work. I just hated losing land that had been in my family for a century.”
“Probably better off. Those of us who’ve managed to hold out are barely makin’ ends meet.” Hank scratched his head and shrugged. “The drought ain’t helpin’, and if there’s something out there pickin’ off the livestock, won’t be a lot to show at the market next year.”
“Yeah. Guess I’ll have to bring in the lambs and goat kids at night,” Tom said.
“You gonna bring in the breeders, too?” Bernie pulled a round can from his back pocket, pinched a wad of tobacco and shoved it just inside his mouth between his bottom teeth and gums. When he’d pushed it into place, he spoke over the lump behind his lip. “Can’t figure. Haven’t seen wolves in these parts since that last time. Maybe it’s just a coyote.”
“Maybe. Wolves don’t normally come this far south.” Hank studied the game board. “You gonna play or flap your gums?”
Ignoring his partner, Bernie nodded toward Mac. “That last time was bad because Jenny McGuire was attacked by the critter. That’s how come we know’d it was a wolf.”
Mac’s stomach tightened. He didn’t want to hear the story he’d heard all his life. It always ended the same.
“She’d been Homecoming Queen the year she graduated high school. I remember. I was captain of the football team, so I got to escort her down the aisle at the coronation.” Sheriff Hodges stared at a corner of the room as if seeing into the past. “She was the most beautiful girl in the county, with all that long, black hair and those blue eyes. A guy could see all the way to China in ’em.”
“She was a pretty little thang, until that wolf got hold of her,” Bernie said, concentrating on the checkers.
Mac almost turned to leave when he noticed that Eve, Laura and Addie had joined the group.
“She never was the same after that.” Bernie chewed on his tobacco. “Left town a few months later. Mac was too young to remember most of it. Ain’t that right, Mac?”
Not young enough to forget, Mac thought. His mother had left her husband behind to pick up the pieces. Mac’s only response to Bernie’s question was tightened lips. The pain and anger had long since evolved into a dull ache that never seemed to go away. Even after thirty years. “Point is,” Mac said, interrupting Bernie’s story, “whatever got that goat did it over the past two days, not thirty years ago.”
“Think whatever done it might still be out there?” Addie asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” Mac inhaled deeply and let it out. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d gotten. “Although predators come out mostly at night, it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye on the little ones.” His glance rested on Joey and Katie where they sat on the floor just beyond the group of adults, sifting through the collection of fossils. Here in the Community Center they could play happily, oblivious to the danger that lurked near town. Outside the limestone block walls, who knew?
Eve’s voice pulled him back. “You don’t think Joey’s in danger from whatever killed the goat, do you?” Her words wobbled and her face paled.
“It doesn’t hurt to be overly cautious. Keep an eye on him and don’t let him wander far from the house.”
“Speak of the little devil, looks like someone’s getting tired.” Addie nodded toward Joey.
He set the rock he’d been holding on the ground and stood, rubbing bunched fists into his eyes.
“Come on, Joey, we should go.” Eve smiled at Tom and Laura. “It was really nice meeting you. Let me know what I can do to help with the Harvest Festival.”
Mac found himself envious of that smile. Would she ever turn to him with such a smile? Did he really want her to? She’d pretty well stated her stance on relationships. She wasn’t interested in another man in her life. Not that he was the one for her. His mother had left him and he’d watched as his father died of a broken heart. Not to mention, Mac had failed his men in combat. How could he possibly add any value to Eve’s life?
Joey walked out the door ahead of Eve.
“Joey, wait a minute.” Mac moved to snatch Joey up in his arms.
Mac’s chestnut horse stood next to the curb tied to a lamppost. Molly lay on the ground next to the big beast, her stumpy tail flicking side to side.
Eve eased up beside Mac, a questioning expression on her face until she spied the horse and dog.
Joey buried his face in Mac’s black T-shirt, his hands clutching the fabric, turning his knuckles white.
“It’s okay, Joey,” Mac said in a low, steady tone, coaxing the little boy to look up. “Molly won’t hurt you. Watch how her backside wiggles when she’s excited. That means she likes you.”
Joey peeked through one eye at the dog. The Australian shepherd wagged her stump and spun around in a circle.
“Molly’s special,” Mac continued, his voice smooth and calming. “She takes care of our little animals. She’s like a babysitter. When a baby goat or lamb loses its mother,
