Part 2 (2/2)
She narrowed her eyes at him as she removed her hat, tucking it beneath the counter. The brim caught on the bar she rested her feet on. She scritched her fingers through her short brown hair, unplastering the fine waves from her crown and pulling a few bangs over her forehead.
”d.a.m.n, Teeny,” a bear of a cowboy quipped. ”Did Gabe get you by accident when he was shaving all of his mules for the season?”
Kristine gritted her teeth, annoyed. They'd worked a few seasons before she'd left, and according to her brother, he'd become one of the Leo Armstrong's main packers. ”No more Teeny.”
Without acknowledging the comment, he looked to the front of the room. ”Tell me she's the entertainment tonight,” he drawled.
”She's a stripper?” Brian gasped, turning on his stool and straining his neck.
Leo's son, Nard, glared at the youngster. ”Dad's just kissing political a.s.s letting some bear specialist come down and tell us what we already know. Bears are a problem. Bears are dangerous. Don't play with the bears. Should be very educational.”
He'd slowed down on the last two sentences, directing them right at Kristine. She flicked her eyes to him, considering the challenge only she heard. ”Give her a chance,” Kristine said, keeping her voice even.
Nard snorted. ”Seems like your type, you mean?” he sneered.
Kristine didn't respond to the barb though her pulse thrummed in her ears. His eyes stayed on her, that stare that she'd been happy to leave behind, but she held his gaze. She would not engage him. She would not let him win. Thankfully, the kitchen staff brought out heaping plates of pork chops, potatoes and corn. Everyone dug in.
Kristine would have said Nard had always been an a.s.s, but that would be disrespecting the burro, the donkeys which were an integral part of her father's breeding program. She tried to be fair. Who could blame a guy for having an att.i.tude problem when the world called him Nard because his father, Leo, had already taken the logical shortened version of Leonard? Why not go by Leonard? Leo Jr.? But here he was, thirty-six and still at his dad's pack station. She wondered if he'd improved in the job in the six years she'd been gone. He wasn't sitting with the old-timers, but Gloria was. By the way the visitor studied her food, it looked like she was also thankful for the diversion a meal provided.
”You know she could be, if she wanted,” Gabe whispered, interrupting Kristine's thoughts. ”A stripper,” he clarified, wiggling his eyebrows and sharing the target of Kristine's gaze. ”Maybe I should ask after the presentation.”
”Save it, Gabe. You're not the one she'd be taking it off for.”
”Oh, really,” he said, turning to look at the woman in question again. He pushed his plate away from him. ”You sound pretty sure, there. What exactly happened in the thirty seconds it took for you to walk her over to Leo's table?”
”She shook my hand back in the kitchen,” Kristine said, tossing her napkin onto her plate. ”And hers is definitely a hand that has graced the glorious body of a woman.” She glanced back in Gloria's direction as she said the words, and though it wasn't possible for the woman to have heard what she said, her eyes locked with Kristine's sending a rush of heat through her body.
He brother glanced between the two women. ”Guess Nard was right,” he said, chuckling.
Kristine broke eye contact, meeting her brother's eyes with no hint of humor. ”Don't.”
Gabe's brow furrowed in confusion, but before he could respond, Leo stood, ringing one of their bell mare bells. ”Please turn your attention to Ms. Fisher. She's a specialist on bear aversion training. She's got some reminders for us and, ahh...” he looked down at her, at a loss for what to say, and she rose.
”And to enlist some of you in helping us take care of what has become a real danger. As Leo said, I'm Gloria Fisher. I'm a wildlife biologist with the Department of Fish and Wildlife. I work out of the Ontario office in southern California and have been studying interaction between bears and humans for a little more than a year. In reviewing reports from your local Forest Service rangers, a trend has emerged, revealing that encounters are on the rise. Yosemite has successfully reduced their bear encounters. I applied for a grant to try implementing some of their techniques in this region to see if balance can be restored before bears have to be relocated or destroyed.” She pulled out a stack of notecards and started giving statistics from the incidents recorded from campgrounds and the strategies needed to prevent them.
Nard sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. Kristine turned completely around on her stool trying to concentrate on Gloria, but she couldn't ignore the comments of her fellow packers. Every item on Gloria's list elicited a smarta.s.s response.
”Bears are attracted to FOOD?” Gabe whispered.
”But they never disturb a family pic-a-nic,” Dozer said, not as quietly in a pretty decent Yogi Bear impression.
”They're smart?” Gabe gasped.
”Smarter than the average bear,” Dozer continued.
”You grow much more hair on that face, and people will start to believe you're a bear,” Gabe said.
”Let's see the expert lady try to scare me off.”
”Wouldn't work. You hear banging pans and come running for supper.”
”If she were supper, you bet I'd come running,” Dozer purred.
Kristine reached beyond her brother to smack the large cowboy, unable to take more of their banter. Less than a minute later, though, her brother gasped again. ”Bears get into TRASH CANS? Even if the LID is on?”
Even Kristine had a hard time suppressing a giggle. Surely, this woman had to know that people who worked in the backcountry had the sense to do what they could to keep bears out of the outfit or their camps. No one wanted to be in the backcountry with hungry guests and have to explain that they'd lost all of their food to a domesticated bear.
She took advantage of the opportunity to evaluate Gloria unimpeded. Again, she appreciated her confidence. Clearly, Gloria was used to addressing large groups of people and commanding their respect. She was professional, ticking through her points, but Kristine had to agree with the cowboys at the table about the usefulness of her information.
Not that she minded, Kristine smiled. The ranger could be reciting the elevation of all of the peaks in the Minarets and giving rainfall data for the last hundred years, and Kristine would have listened. Gloria had no trouble projecting her low but powerful voice through the room. Kristine remembered what it was like in normal conversation and took a moment to wonder what it would be like brought down to an intimate whisper. She imagined that voice raising the hair just behind her ear, but before she could antic.i.p.ate what she'd be saying, the words Gloria had uttered snapped her out of her reverie.
”Did she say something about shooting the bears?” she whispered to Gabe.
”Yeah,” he said, sitting up straighter. ”With rubber bullets.”
Kristine quickly s.h.i.+fted away from Gloria's physical attributes to what her intellect had to offer about dealing with the animals in the backcountry.
”It's important to establish that the area you inhabit is your den and that they are not welcome. Bears are extremely territorial, and if you claim the territory effectively, with noisemakers and some zings to their hide, they'll get the message that they need to forage elsewhere.”
The entire cafe was silent.
”At the end of the week Leo will help me set up a practice area in the meadow where we'll have the opportunity to practice some of the techniques I went over tonight.”
”The Forest Service is going to sign off on our carrying in the backcountry?” a skeptical Dozer shouted out.
Kristine admired the way the ranger deftly shepherded the conversation back to how she hoped Leo's employees could partic.i.p.ate in improving the balance between human and nature. After a half hour or so, the questions ceased, the crew cleared their plates and drifted to their evening ch.o.r.es.
Kristine sat tipped back in a chair on the porch that ran along the main building, her boots resting on the railing. Waiting for the rest of the corral staff to emerge from the store, she enjoyed an after-supper ice cream. Who was she kidding, she thought, letting the chair's feet thump back to the porch. She was sitting there hoping to get another glimpse of the presenter. She toyed with the idea of inviting her to join the group which had decided to get a campfire going after the evening feed.
Again, she remembered her promise to herself. By facing her past instead of continuing to run, she could use that strength to finally stand up to the force of her father. She could leave the ranch and find her own path as a professional photographer. A summer fling sounded enticing, especially after being in the small, socially dry town of Quincy for six months, but she knew that it would only distract her from getting on her own feet.
Having gone through the kitchen to the store, the corral crew emerged from the door on her left just as Gloria exited the diner's door on her right. Did Gloria look pleased to see her sitting there? Meeting her eyes, Kristine felt a pull between them, the instinct that had her fantasizing about kissing her when they'd first met instead of offering to point out her boss.
”Teeny!” Dozer shouted, making her whip her head in the opposition direction. ”There's a hay hook with your name on it up at the corrals if you've still got something to prove.”
Kristine ground her teeth. He hadn't changed at all, and she found that she still had a difficult time not letting him get under her skin. True, she had felt the need to keep up with the guys back then, but she'd had to when they always treated her like a helpless girl. Risking another glance in Gloria's direction, she met those blue eyes once again. She seemed to be observing the scene with interest. Best to walk away now, Kristine told herself. Their paths weren't likely to cross, and it would be easier to resist the very real temptation she presented if Kristine didn't spend any more time talking to her.
She sighed, bowing her head before she pushed to stand and join the crew stepping off the porch to the hard-packed dirt yard between the building and the corrals, not to prove anything to Dozer but to prove to herself that she had returned a different person, that she was in control.
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