beautiful day. Part of her wanted to stay put, just to show him, but given the isolation out here, she had to admit that might not be wise. Just find another place, Sky.
God, she was learning to hate men. Such a sense of privilege, as if they were masters of the universe. She had a right to be here, too.
She was stuffing the tarp in her backpack when she saw another man emerge from the trees from the opposite direction, this one riding a horse. She tensed at once, then recognized the colors of the U.S. Forest Service. A ranger. She decided to stay right where she was and give this guy an earful about what had just happened. After all, wasn’t it his job to make sure the public wasn’t harassed on public land?
She wasn’t at all clear what these folks did, but she was sure of one thing: at the ranger station before she’d come up here, a very nice woman had told her she was free to go anywhere she liked in the forest, but advised her to file a description of her planned activities and check in when she returned, just in case.
“If we need to rescue you,” the woman said cheerfully, “it would be really helpful to have some idea when and where to start looking.”
Raising her hand, Sky waved at the rider. At once he turned his mount a little and began to come directly toward her.
God, he looked iconic, she thought. A big man on a big horse under the brim of a felt Stetson. There was no mistaking that long-sleeved light olive shirt with its patches and brass nameplate, or the dark olive jeans. And soon there was no mistaking the glint of a badge on his breast, or the gun holstered at his waist. Or the shotgun in the saddle holster. She guessed he wasn’t an ordinary ranger. What the heck happened in these mountains?
When he got close enough, she could see a square, sun-bronzed face, some dark, close-trimmed hair. Not his eyes, though, in the shadow of his hat. He rode easily, as if he’d been born in the saddle, seeming to sway with the horse’s every move, relaxed and comfortable. Broad shoulders, narrow hips. And armed.
That kept grabbing her. She wondered if she was foolish to come out here without some kind of protection.
He reached her at last, raising a finger to the brim of his hat. “Something wrong, ma’am?”
“Maybe. This is forest land, right? Open to the public?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then why would some guy come tell me to go someplace else?”
He glanced across the valley. “Big guy? Burly?”
“That’s him.”
“I know him.” The ranger shook his head. “I’ll take care of it. He won’t bother you again.”
“What is he? Some kind of nut?”
“I suppose you could argue that.” For the first time he smiled faintly. “Isolated places sometimes grow cranks. Are you getting ready to leave?”
“Believe it. I don’t like being treated that way. Besides...” She hesitated. “He unnerved me a little. It’s very lonely out here.” Something she’d been enjoying only a short time ago.
“It can be.” Rising a bit in his stirrups, he scanned the area. “How long ago did he bother you?”
Sky tried to measure it. “It had to be at least fifteen minutes. I started packing up as soon as he left.”
He looked at her things. “What do you do?”
“I was trying to paint. I’m an artist.”
“Taking pictures?”
“Sometimes. To capture the light.”
“Well, that might do it. All right, I’ll have some words with him. In the meantime...” He swung down from the saddle. “Let me help you carry your things and make sure you get safely back to your car or your campsite.”
Before she could do more than thank him, he’d swung the strap of her heavy camera bag over the pommel of his saddle and picked up her backpack, holding it with one hand and his reins in the other. “Which way?” he asked.
She pointed to where she’d left her car, grabbed the box containing her supplies and canvas, and together they started walking. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, sticking to a leisurely pace.
Sky, for her part, was starting to bubble over with questions. She just didn’t know if she should ask him. But finally one burst from her.
“Are you some kind of cop?”
He glanced at her, just before they entered the shadow of the trees, and at last she caught a glint of dark gray eyes. “Some kind. I’m in law enforcement for the service, but I’m also a biologist. So I wear a few hats. I keep an eye on the wildlife while patrolling for violators, I do search and rescue, firefighting.” He gave a laugh. “Short staffing makes everyone a jack-of-all-trades, I guess. Anyway, I guess you could say my main job is protecting visitors and employees. Whatever’s most needed on any day.” He paused. “I’m Craig Stone, by the way.”
“Skylar Jamison. Sky for short.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Jamison.”
“I was certainly glad to see you. That man made me really nervous, and I don’t get unnerved easily. What is he? Some kind of hermit who thinks he owns the woods?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that. Are you aware that when we turn land into national forest or parkland we don’t throw out people who are already living there?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Well, we don’t evict people. They get to stay the way they always have if they want to, or we buy them out. The guy you met owns a spread inside the forest here.”
“Is that what I saw across the valley?”
“Part of it. He owns a fair piece.”
“Does he make a point of bothering people?”
“Not usually. He’s got his property posted and doesn’t like trespassers, but...” He paused. “Something’s going on over there lately. I usually mind my own business when it comes to his property, but maybe it’s time to have a few friendly words. I’m certainly going to make sure he doesn’t drive people off public land, or scare them. Maybe I can even find out why he was bothered by you at all.”
“He called me a spy.”
Craig turned his head and looked straight at her. “Really?”
“His word, not mine.”
He fell silent as they continued to walk. The sound of the horse’s hooves were almost entirely muted by the deep pine needles under the trees, then would become louder again as they scuffed through leaves. “How often have you been out there?”
“This was the third day.”
“Do you use that camera a lot?”
“Like I said, to capture the light as much
