“Is a recluse no—one knows much about. Maybe even crazy… been out in the woods an awful long time. I for one intend to use my head. The chances that this is the same wolf, after five years—”
“Does it matter?” Howie demanded. “We can’t just let it slaughter our livestock. Last time we never caught the killer. I’m through with waiting. The black took two prime turkeys just yesterday, and the cow last week. For all I know he’ll go after a kid next.”
“Now, Howie, you know that ain’t legal anymore.”
“You don’t know shit, I’ve never had no use for those wolf lovers—”
“Look, if we just call the Animal Damage Control people, you’ll get your compensation. They’ll come out and take care of the livestock killer. They know what they’re doing.”
Howie spat. “Yeah, like they took care of that wolf five years ago? If I had my way, there’d be no wolves in Minnesota at all—”
Alex straightened and strode around the shelf.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said coldly.
The four farmers, ranging in age from firebrand Howie’s mid-twenties to easygoing Dutch’s eighth decade, stepped back hastily from the shelf. Alex ignored Howie’s hostile stare and looked at each of the other three men, one by one. Sigurd Brown pulled his feed cap low over his eyes and shuffled off with a muttered excuse. Norm McCallister shook his head and shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat. Dutch gave her a wan smile.
“Didn’t know you were there. Miss Alex,” he said. Howie snarled a curse and stomped off; Dutch shrugged. “Hope you won’t take it too seriously. It’s hard when man loses livestock, especially this time of year.”
Alex nodded, keeping her expression carefully blank. Dutch was a decent man, even if there was pity in his eyes. And she needed his help.
She was hardly the first researcher to settle in the area, but opinions like Howie’s were entrenched and hard to fight. Especially not in the way she wanted to fight them.
She expected men like Howie to reject her. The first time he saw her, two weeks ago, he’d made his disgust very plain. But she’d run the gauntlet of Merritt’s opinions, and she wasn’t above using people’s reactions to get what she wanted from them. Like Dutch’s pity or even Howie’s spite.
Nothing was more important than the wolves. Her job was much easier with the goodwill of the people of Merritt—however she could get it.
“I understand your feelings, Dutch,” she said carefully. “That’s what the ADC is for.” She grabbed a package of macaroni from the shelf and tossed it in her basket. “I hope you’ll report the incident. If there’s a depredation problem, it’s to everyone’s benefit to deal with it the right way.
Dutch nodded, though he avoided her gaze. “You bet, Miss Alex. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” He touched the brim of his feed cap and walked off to join his friends, gathered around the checkout counter.
Control, Alex. Control. She eased her tense muscles and watched the men narrowly. You can think whatever you want about me, but leave my wolves alone.
“That ugly bitch, spying on us,” Howie said, loudly enough for Alex to hear. “She’d love to drive us all out and give this whole state back to the wolves. I—”
“You shut up, Howie,” Dutch said. “Pay for your food and get out of here.”
“I’ll pay for it if Olsen ever shows up.”
Alex stared around the store, wanting out, wanting to get back to her woods. Mr. Olsen, the proprietor, was barely visible in the last aisle, his voice raised as he spoke to someone hidden behind the shelves.
“I know what I saw. You put that candy back and get the hell out of my store.”
A teenaged girl emerged from the aisle, Olsen at her heels. Her skin was flushed, dark eyes bright with unshed tears. Ojibwe, like Julie, with long glossy black hair and a round, pretty face. Alex felt a lurch in her stomach as she recognized the hopeless anger in the girl’s expression. Humiliation, shame, the desperate need to fight back when the odds were stacked far too high.