mist completely shrouded the usually dark Santa Teresa and craggy Galiuro Mountains that ringed the high desert where she ran her cattle.
She let the kitchen curtain drop and filled her coffee mug, further worrying they might get snow today. She’d turned her calendar to February, but having grown up here she knew it could snow as late as April.
“Mama, do we hafta go feed cows? I’m cold,” Scotty said, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he came into the kitchen.
Mr. Bones padded after him; his dog tags clinked merrily as he trotted around the boy and went straight to his dish of kibble, which Tandy had already set out.
“We do, Scotty,” she said as he took his seat at the kitchen table. “Raising cattle is pretty much an all-day, every day job. But I’ll ask Manny if we can start later. See if this fog burns off a bit. Wear one of the flannel shirts we bought, and the lined denim jacket. If you’d like, you can ride with me on Butterscotch. If you sit in front of me, I’ll block most of the chilly wind.”
“Nah, I’ll ride Patch,” he said, referencing the small, sure-footed mule his grandfather’s longtime ranch hand had found for him. “I don’t want Mr. Manny to think I’m a sissy,” Scotty declared as he dug into the bowl of hot cereal Tandy had set before him.
“A sissy? Honestly, Scotty, if your cousin taught you that, I’m triply glad we left Hawaii to live here.”
“Mark knows everything. He’s in fourth grade, you know.”
Tandy stifled a laugh. She might have said more except her cell phone rang. She hurried to the counter, where it sat on its charger.
“Maybe that’ll be the wolf man calling to say he’s coming today.” Scotty perked right up.
“It’s Manny,” Tandy said, seeing her cowhand’s name on the screen. She picked up the phone and put it to her ear. “Manny, hi. We’ll be ready to ride shortly. We’re running a little late. I’m considering waiting until this fog burns off some to go out. Will that be okay with you?”
“Fine, Tandy. This weather is playing havoc with my arthritic joints. I hope you can handle checking stock today without me.”
“I’ll have to. Do you have medication? Is there anything you need?”
“I’m good. This damp snap wasn’t predicted. I do okay if I have a couple days’ warning so I can start taking a heavy-duty analgesic.”
Tandy had feared Manny’s advanced age might be an issue. She relied on him because he’d been loyal to her father, and he’d offered his help. “I’m sorry your joints hurt,” she murmured. “I’ll take my cell phone if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll give you a call when Scotty and I finish for the day. Better yet, I’ll bring you supper.”
“Thanks, I’d like that. By the way, how was the association meeting last night? What was their big emergency?”
“Ah, the meeting. It was called to do a hatchet job on me. Preston Hicks tore into me for renting a casita to Wyatt Hunt. I wouldn’t have thought so many grown men could throw fits over a few wolves. Wolves lived here before ranchers moved in.”
She handed Scotty a piece of toast to go with his cereal and broke off a corner of a second slice for herself.
“Steer clear of Hicks,” the old man warned. “He led the association to band together against Wyatt when he and his team released the wolves. Somebody, and your pa thought it was Pres, laid a dead wolf on the hood of Wyatt’s vehicle as a threat. He and others on his team got phone threats, too. But the government agency in charge of the wolf program sent out a letter saying whoever did it could be prosecuted.”
“I wish I’d known all of that before I agreed to rent to Mr. Hunt. New as I am, I don’t need to be the source of grief to neighbors. I also don’t like being stuck in the middle of a turf war over wolf repatriation.”
“Your pa favored the program. He told Hunt to ignore Preston’s bluster. Best you avoid them if you can, Tandy.”
“I know Dad liked Mr. Hunt a lot. I promise not to go out of my way to engage Hicks. But I won’t cower, either. You take care of your arthritis. If you need groceries or anything from town, I hope to make a run to the feed store tomorrow or the next day.”
“I’m good, but thanks. With luck I’ll be back in the saddle tomorrow.”
She ended their call, sighed and put away her phone.
“What’s wrong?” Scotty asked.
“Manny can’t ride with us today. He has an illness called arthritis that causes him pain in his knees, elbows and fingers. He believes he’ll feel better tomorrow.”
“I heard that. He talks really loud. But what did he say about a dead wolf? How did one die, Mama?”
“It’s nothing for us to worry about. It didn’t happen recently.”
“You sounded worried. Is it ’cause that bad man said don’t rent to the wolf man?”
“Honey, he was making noise. I don’t want you to be concerned. Please call him Mr. Hunt. If you’re finished with your cereal, rinse the bowl then go get dressed. You can watch TV while I fix something in advance for supper. We’ll let the fog lift before we go feed cattle.”
Scotty slipped off his chair and carried his bowl to the sink. “Can we have pa’sketti?”
“Spaghetti.” Tandy stressed the correct pronunciation.
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
Laughing, Tandy tweaked his cowlick. “I can make that. Outside of pizza I know it’s your most favorite food.”
“Yup. If the wolf man, uh, Mr. Hunt, comes today like the bad man said, he can eat supper with us and tell us all about the wolves.”
“No, Scotty. He’s only renting one of our casitas. He will cook his own meals. I doubt we’ll see much of him at all. I hope anyway,” she added under her breath.
“Aww, I wanna see his baby wolves.”
“Forget that. We want all wolves to stay far away from the ranch.”
“Me and Mr. Bones could take care of a baby wolf, dontcha think?”
“Not a good plan.” Tandy shooed him and the hound out of the kitchen.
* * *
SOME TWELVE HOURS after they’d had their morning discussion and rehashed it several times, Tandy and Scotty rode back to the barn. It’d been a hard day because the fog hadn’t lifted until midafternoon and hung in the deeper arroyos where she’d needed to check on cows and fill water troughs. Scotty had driven her crazy by constantly riding his mule off into underbrush, claiming to be searching for wolf cubs.
Unsaddling Butterscotch, and then Patch, she wondered what had made her think she could chase a herd of Santa Gertrudis cattle over an inhospitable landscape, take care of a house, and maybe homeschool her almost-six-year-old son in the fall when he began first grade. Maybe because her mother had done the same until Tandy started third grade.
“Hurry, Mama. I’m starved and so is Mr. Bones.” Scotty called to her from the fading light outside the barn door.
“I’m coming. But you’re going to have to give me time to fix garlic bread and a salad while the spaghetti heats through.”
Scotty skipped ahead with his pet. Tandy lagged behind. She’d assumed all the patrols she’d led over rough terrain in Afghanistan would have prepared her to chase after and feed a few hundred cows. Obviously not. She was exhausted.
“Honey, why don’t you build something with your Legos while supper warms? I’ll bring Manny his plate first. I hope he’s not feeling worse, now that the fog has settled again.”
Scotty stopped at the front door and glanced around. “It’s almost