she laughed. “Well, that depends, doesn’t it? They’re mostly seen as a threat to livestock or as a trophy. But like everything else, they’re an important part of the ecosystem. So I imagine we’ll have a knock-down, drag-out fight over protecting them when the time comes. In the meantime...well, I can rescue cubs.”
“Like wolves,” he mused. “There’s been a lot of upset since the court put them back on the endangered list.”
“I love the wolves,” she said truthfully. “I understand why so many ranchers think they’re a threat, but I still love them. Two summers ago I got to see most of the pack when I was up in the mountains. Unfortunately we feed the elk because of loss of habitat, and no one wants to see the end of elk, or elk hunting. But those feeding areas are like ringing the dinner bell for the wolves. They usually only kill what they need. Usually. But I guess some people don’t want to share.”
“It’s been my experience that wolves are pretty shy of people. But I suppose the ranchers can’t afford full-time range riders or shepherds.”
“Not anymore,” Desi admitted. “Raising livestock is a difficult job under the best of circumstances, so I understand the concerns the ranchers express.” Then she caught herself. “But why don’t we talk about something besides the job. I was thinking earlier that I’m almost obsessive. I need some fresh air in my brain.”
He chuckled. “Well, the job brought us together, so it makes sense we’d talk about it. But on to other subjects. Let me think.”
She was content to let him do the thinking as she rose again to get more coffee. As she returned to the couch, she saw it with fresh eyes for the first time since she’d moved in. She wasn’t even sure what color it was, it was so old and faded. Somewhere between brown and gray? She was fairly fastidious about keeping things clean, but as she stared at that couch she wondered if cleaning it would help.
Seated again, she watched Kel sip his coffee, his gaze distant.
“I know,” he said finally. “Would you believe I actually saw a snow leopard when I was in Afghanistan? In the wild.”
“For real?” She sat up a little straighter. “Aren’t they rare?”
“Exceedingly. There are only about 250 left.”
“So how did you manage it?”
“I was on a mission to train Afghani forces in mountain fighting. Early one morning I was scanning the mountains around us through some high-power binoculars and there it was. I didn’t tell anyone about it because their pelts are highly prized and the last thing I wanted to do was let anyone know it was there.”
She felt herself smiling broadly. The story made her heart lift. Now, this was a change from her usual rut. “I think I’m going to die of envy.”
He laughed. “Don’t do that. I just wished I could take a photo, but it was too far away. Warming itself on a high ledge in the first sunbeams of the day. It was stunning, Desi. Just stunning.”
“That’s something I’ll only ever see in a photo,” she remarked. “But I’m glad you kept it secret.”
“I didn’t tell a soul. Everyone knows there are snow leopards in the Kush, but they’re hard to find, they range large territories and...well, I wasn’t going to pinpoint one. Afghanistan wants to protect them, but given how rough things are over there...” He let it hang, evidently feeling a long explanation wasn’t necessary. “Anyway, I’d seen one of their pelts in a market in Kabul. I wasn’t going to add to the count.”
She nodded, understanding completely. “You must have seen a lot of exotic things.”
“Depends on what you mean. I saw an awful lot of ugly things, some beautiful things. I made friends but I’m sure I made more enemies. I had about as much idea of what it would mean to be a soldier as you probably had about being a game warden.”
She nodded slowly, feeling an unexpected ache for him. This man bore burdens she couldn’t begin to imagine. He seemed to bear them well. So far, anyway.
He appeared to hesitate. “I think it’s only fair to tell you that I was married once. It blew up when I came back from my first tour in Iraq. I was fairly messed up, explosive temper, flashbacks. It settled down, but too late.”
“And what about now?” she asked, her heart accelerating.
“It’s under control. That’s probably the best I’ll ever be able to say about it. But I can’t complain. Plenty of guys have it worse.”
She bit her lower lip, wondering. “Why did you tell me this, Kel? Is it something I need to worry about?”
He shook his head. “You might see me get a little edgy on occasion, but like I said, I have a handle on it now. Which makes me luckier than most. I just wanted you to know in case I got snappish or withdrawn for no apparent reason.”
That was a whole mouthful, she thought. He might have a handle on it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t being tormented anyway. She could have sighed. So many young men and women, haunted forever. But she sought a more helpful attitude. “That’s okay. I get the same way sometimes. Maybe not to the same degree. I don’t know, but I have my moods, too.”
He smiled. Such a warm expression, and it charmed her. “Thanks. Mine can be worse I suppose, but like I said I’ve got it pretty much under control.”
“How much time did you spend over there?” she asked. “If that’s not prying.”
He looked away for a moment. “Since we invaded Afghanistan? A lot. There were breaks, of course. Time to land for a while. Then back again. Maybe seven years or so?”
She couldn’t imagine it. Simply couldn’t. Bouncing back and forth between peace and war like that? It seemed to her that that alone would cause problems. “That must have been rough,” she said after a moment.
“It was what it was.”
Such a casual answer. But she was emerging from her self-imposed preoccupation with her job, a way of avoiding everything else she sometimes thought, and began to see Kel. Really see him, beyond his sexual pull for her. He was treating all this so casually. Had it under control.
That casualness, she thought with gut-deep certainty, was a mask hiding some real suffering. Maybe he’d managed to bury that pain so deep that it didn’t drive him all the time. Maybe he’d even grown accustomed to it.
But she didn’t know how to ask him. Didn’t want to pry, and from the vets she knew around here she thought that prying would be bad anyway. None of them seemed to want to talk about that stuff, not with people who’d never been there.
She could comprehend that. She’d met people who couldn’t fathom why she was able to shoot an injured antelope as she had. Not because she was hunting but because it was the only help she could offer it. They talked about veterinarians, about rehab places, all without knowing that with an injury like that there was no help. And she had to make that decision with a quick inspection. Did she feel nothing? If only.
So she kept her heart locked away on the job as necessary, avoiding thinking too hard about the parts she didn’t like, focusing on the parts she loved. Kel was doing that with a whole big chunk of his life,
