would be hard to do, Jennifer decided as they ate their breakfast in silence. The man filled the room with a demanding presence, like a giant tiger staking a claim.
Finally, he said, “So what’s your typical day like?”
“Now there’s a subject I can handle,” she replied. “Tell you what, rather than explain it, how about you give me time to instruct and update the two volunteers due in a few minutes. Then I’ll take you on rounds with me and you can watch and learn. And I expect you to pull your weight, too, Ranger-man.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, getting up to help her clear the dishes. “Hard work on Monday.”
“It’s Wednesday,” she quipped. “And still, it’s hard work, every day, all day.”
“I don’t mind hard work. But I do have a problem with hardened criminals. By the way, I took a walk back to the new gator pond last night. Spent the night out there.”
“You did? I guess you were serious about staking the place out. Anything happen?”
“Not a thing. Not yet. But we’ll catch ’em.” He winked at Roscoe.
Jennifer thought she saw the old dog wink back.
Two hours later, Anderson wondered how Jennifer managed to do it all. The woman was a bundle of energy, whirling from task to task with obsessive determination, her love for her animals as evident as her need to keep this place going. But even with a few volunteers, how long could she keep up this pace?
“So you do this every morning?” So far, they’d fed the alligators and the horses, washed down several small animal pens, spoon-fed a passel of hungry turtles—both land tortoises and more water-inclined sea and snapping turtles—mushy bits of dog food and handfuls of worms, cleaned out some of the box turtles’ aquariums and checked on a wounded hawk in the aviary.
She let out a chuckle. “Tired, cowboy? Listen, this is just the beginning of my day. But, yes, I have to feed the animals every day either in the morning or at dusk, and with some of them, both. The horses like to be fed about three times per day. I get relieved about twice a month, thanks to the other animal lovers who support this place. Everyone has a job and we all stick to our jobs. I keep a tight schedule with the volunteers and the paid workers.”
“You have a lot of animals,” he replied, ticking them off on his hand. “Two pigs, three cows, four horses, two alligators, a whole slew of turtles, goats, a llama, ducks, geese, a hawk, several rabbits, two doves and Roscoe. It’s like the twelve days of Christmas around here. Do you have a partridge in a pear tree, too?”
She laughed again then tossed back that shimmering mane of dark hair. “I just might. It’s crazy, that’s for sure. I never have enough time or money. And people bring me all kinds of animals—dogs, cats, raccoons, you name it. I can’t keep some of them so I have to call the state wildlife department to come and get them. Breaks my heart, but I just don’t have the funding and I have to adhere to state regulations.”
He followed her toward the stables as she headed back by the various cages and pens toward the main house. “How do you make money?”
“I don’t. I have a board of directors that oversees operations and decides my annual salary—which isn’t much, let me tell you. I charge for tours but until I get everything up to state code with the gator pen, I can’t conduct any tours for a while. I speak at schools and civic organizations, and that brings in some funding, and I have a few corporate sponsors. But my income is at a minimum at best.”
“How do you get by, then?”
She stopped and pushed at her hair. “I have a trust fund. It’s small, though. My parents set it up for me a long time ago and it grew over the years. After I got out of college, they turned it over to me.”
“And now you use that to live? No wonder you gave up meat.”
She gave him a stare that told him he was being too personal. “I get by, Anderson. And giving up meat was my choice when I was young. Don’t worry.”
He did worry, though. Getting by was one thing. Living like a miser was another. “You’re gonna need a lot of funding to do everything you told me about. From what I could tell, digging that alligator pond is a big deal.”
“Yes, that’s true. And I’m working on funding for that. But if word gets out that a drug cartel uses my land for little get-togethers, I guess I can kiss that and my few sponsors goodbye, right along with the plans I’ve drawn up to overhaul this place.”
“Let me worry about that, then,” he replied, resolve coloring his tone. Since he’d already observed the two women who were in the office today as well as several of the other volunteers, he asked, “When does your part-time person come in?”
“After school, around three-thirty.”
He noted that. “And the construction workers?”
“They show up when they’re good and ready. They’ve got several jobs so like I told you last night, I have to wait my turn. Of course, now they’ll have to repair the fence, too.”
Anderson wondered if she let people walk all over her, but remembered she could get in your face when she wanted to. Was she stalling on the work because of lack of funds?
Not your concern right now, he reminded himself. “So when can we take a ride out and look around? I might get a better angle in the daylight.”
She tossed that hair again. “Well, I have to clean out the stables—the empty stalls are used for everything from isolating animals to storing supplies—and we’ll need to eat a bite. We could take the horses and check the work on the new pen after Jacob gets here. We’ll be able to ride the entire back part of the property, too.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Anderson said, glancing around. “I could either help with the stable or I can try and secure this place a little more. Add a few brighter lights here and there, make sure all the door locks are up to snuff.”
“I can’t pay for that.”
“Don’t worry about the pay right now.”
“I don’t take charity.”
“But you take donations, right?”
She frowned. “Is that some kind of Ranger trick question?”
Anderson let out a grunt of irritation. “It’s a simple question. You have sponsors and people who support this place, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, then, add my name to the list. Besides, I have to look the part of a security expert.”
She stopped next to a storage building and turned to the spigot and big industrial sink, then started dumping buckets off the wheeled wagon she’d used to feed the penned animals. “So you’re an animal lover?”
“I am. I’m as fond of animals as the next man, I reckon. Although my tendency runs toward mutts in stead of alligators. We have several interesting adopted dogs on our property.”
“Well, in that case, thank you, Mr. Ranger-man, for your kind donations and…I’m sure Boudreaux and Bobby Wayne will appreciate it, too.”
“And how about you? Will you appreciate it?”
“Of course I will,” she said, her actions telling him she was chafing underneath his intense questions. Water splashed and gurgled as she moved the spray hose over her feeding buckets with a tad too much zest.
Anderson didn’t know why he was pushing the issue. It was just a few light bulbs and some door locks. What did it matter whether she liked it or not? It was for her protection, not to win points with her. Besides, his main focus was that pond. If the cartel had already messed with her new fence, what would they do next? He had to be there to find out.
Wanting to prolong being around