“They sound like good people.” Jason opened her door, then walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in.
They headed toward the Peak to Peak Highway.
Winona stowed her backpack by her feet. “Naomi was so happy to see the photos of the cabins. Thanks again for all you did to see that through.”
“I was glad to help.” Jason turned up the heater.
“I got to hold little Shota again.” Winona had kissed his toes and held his tiny fingers. “I had no idea how much I would adore him.”
Jason smiled. “What does his name mean?”
“It’s the Lakota word for ‘smoke.’ It’s an old-fashioned boy’s name. But, really, they named him after my wolf.”
Jason stared at her as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Your … wolf?”
She laughed. “Yeah. What? Doesn’t everyone have a wolf?”
He chuckled, the sound warm. “I don’t even have a dog—well, unless you count that stray that comes around sometimes.”
She told Jason how Shota and his two littermates had been rescued from a smuggler by a game warden and how she’d managed to save only Shota. “I got a special permit and built an enclosure for him. We became a pack—me, Shota, and Chaska. We brought him inside, played with him, took him for long hikes.”
“You went hiking with a wolf?” The disbelief on his face made her laugh.
“That’s how Chaska met Naomi.” Winona told him how Naomi had been taken captive by a couple of fugitives while camping in the mountains west of Scarlet. “She escaped, but they shot her in the arm. She fell into a ravine trying to hide from them and broke her tibia. She lay there all night alone in the rain. Shota found her the next morning and saved her life. That’s how she and Chaska met. He helped Zach track them.”
“Did they catch the bastards?”
“One died in a shootout. They caught the other one a short time later.”
“Good.” He glanced over at her. “I understand your nephew’s name now. That’s a good name. But where’s Shota, the wolf?”
Winona had known he would ask. “During the fire, I had to evacuate him to the Forest County Fairgrounds. I sedated him, but it just wasn’t safe for him there—so many people, so many other animals. I found a wolf sanctuary that would take him for as long as he needed a safe home. I dropped him off there.”
Her throat went tight, tears blurring her vision, an ache in the part of her heart that belonged only to Shota. “When I went to get him, I saw that he had bonded with a female—a beautiful white wolf named Aput. He had a much larger enclosure and a new pack. I couldn’t take that from him, so I … I left him there. I let him go.”
She blinked her tears away, hoping Jason hadn’t noticed.
He took her hand, squeezed, his fingers warm. “That must have been hard.”
“It was best for him, but I miss him.” She willed herself to smile. “I visit when I can. He’s always excited to see me.”
“I bet he is. You saved his life and raised him. You’re his mother. Now I know why you love wolves.”
Winona was touched that Jason seemed to understand.
For a time, they drove in silence.
Jason glanced down at the GPS screen. “McBride tells me that if Jack offers us his chili or a steak, we can’t say no. He says the Cimarron is like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
Winona couldn’t deny that she was curious. “I’ve never been there, but from the stories I’ve heard, Zach is right.”
Jason fought to keep his eyes on the road. “McBride wasn’t kidding.”
“Holy smokes!”
The Cimarron sat in an open valley surrounded by white-capped peaks, the mountainsides gold with aspen. Nestled in the middle of the valley was perhaps the largest family home Jason had ever seen. Constructed of stone and logs, it had a steep, multi-gabled roof, high cathedral windows, and a portico driveway accented by a colonnade of polished logs.
“It looks like a Swiss chalet that grew up, married rich, and became a mansion.” There was a note of awe in Winona’s voice.
Jason laughed. “Good description.”
“Can you imagine living here?”
“Hell, no. For most of my childhood, our house didn’t have plumbing or electricity.”
Off to one side stood several large outbuildings, including horse barns, a bunkhouse, an enormous riding hall, and several corrals.
Jason followed Jack’s pickup around to the back and parked. “Check that out—a five-car garage.”
Jason climbed out and met Winona at the back of his truck.
Jack walked up to them, hand out. “Welcome to the Cimarron. I’m grateful to both of you for coming up today. What do you say we head inside so you can refresh yourselves after the drive? Then we can talk.”
Jason and Winona followed Jack through a heated garage into a mudroom and then down a hallway into a spacious, modern kitchen, the mingled scents of coffee, cinnamon, and something tangy and savory making Jason’s mouth water.
“Make yourselves comfortable. We’ve got coffee and fresh-baked cinnamon rolls if that tempts you.” He pointed to a large pot. “I’ve got my world-famous chili heating up for lunch.”
Winona glanced over at Jason. “We’ve heard about your chili.”
Jack grinned. “It wouldn’t be world-famous if you hadn’t, now would it?”
Winona sat at the table. “I’d love some coffee and a cinnamon roll. Thank you.”
“Milk or sugar?” Jack asked.
“Milk, please.”
Jason took the seat across from her. “Just coffee for me, thanks—black.”
From upstairs, came the happy sound of children’s laughter.
“Where’s Emily?” Winona filled Jason in. “She’s Jack’s oldest grandchild.”
“She’s at school—second grade now.” Jack handed Winona her coffee first, then poured Jason’s. “My wife, Janet, would love to meet you both, but at the moment, she has her hands full with our grandson and daughter, both in their terrific twos. My daughter-in-law Megan is in court this morning with a client. I’ll tell you what—I never thought I’d welcome a child and a grandchild three weeks apart.”
While they drank their coffee and Winona savored her cinnamon roll, Jack gave them the whole story. “Six weeks ago, we lost a steer. Nate found only its skull, the bones picked almost clean. Other than blood in the grass and a few wolf tracks, there was nothing else—no bones, no hide. Nada.”
“Would a wolf take down something as large as a steer?” Jason had no idea.
Winona dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Yes, but wolves typically stick with wild game and only go for livestock if other prey isn’t around.”
“A month ago, it happened again. No remains apart from the head. There were lots of canine tracks in the area, including a couple of prints the size of my hand.” He held up a callused hand, fingers splayed. “It sure looked like a wolf to me.”
“Have you ruled out disease?” Winona asked. “Lots of prey animals will take advantage of carrion, including wolves.”