Wolf Haven Page 2

  As Sky turned off the faucets and slowly put one foot into the tub and then the other, she got herself to focus on her coming job interview. She was to see Iris Mason, owner of the Elk Horn Ranch, at 9:00 a.m. This morning. Somehow, Sky would find the strength it’d take to gut through that interview. She needed the job. Would she get it? Or would Iris Mason see right through her and turn her down as so many other employers already had?

  * * *

  GRAYSON MCCOY WAS walking from the main office of the Elk Horn Ranch after talking with Iris Mason when he saw a silver Kia Sorento SUV pull up in front. He’d settled his black SEAL baseball cap on his short brown hair and slowed a little. The early-June morning was near freezing, not uncommon at this time of year for this part of Wyoming. To the east rose the jagged, tooth-shaped Teton Mountains, their slopes glazed with white snow.

  Because he’d been a SEAL for seven years, he was alert and watchful. Iris, the owner of the Elk Horn Ranch, had been excited about a woman named Skylar Pascal, who was coming to interview for a job. It wasn’t just any job, either. Gray wasn’t sure he wanted to work with a woman at the wildlife center. He’d been hired a year ago because his mother, Isabel McCoy, was a noted wolf biologist and wildlife expert. Iris had wanted to create a one-hundred-acre wildlife preserve on the Elk Horn for their dude-ranch families who came every year for a vacation.

  Further, Iris, who always had an eye on saving the planet, wanted part of the refuge for timber wolves and to bring them back to the States. His mother had told him about this job, and Iris had hired him on the spot.

  The green grass beneath his cowboy boots was thick with dew as he slowed. Across the dirt road stood the log cabin. He watched with a little more interest as a woman dressed in a tasteful, coffee-brown pantsuit with a white blouse emerged from the SUV. His eyes narrowed speculatively as he absorbed her.

  Being a SEAL, he had the ability to see all the details, which was always important. She was young, mid-twenties, with long, beautiful, ginger-brown hair that swung gently around her shoulders. The way she squared them, the way she walked, made Gray think she had a military background. Military people walked a certain way: shoulders back and proud, a straight spine, the chin slightly tilted upward. This woman was probably around five foot ten or so. Long, lean and damned graceful. She had a white leather purse she pulled over her left shoulder. Another sign of being in the military. Gray smiled to himself. It left the right arm free to salute with, and women in the military always carried their purses on their left shoulder as a result.

  He didn’t want to be swayed, but when she lifted her chin and looked around—looked at him—his heart unexpectedly thumped once. It was a crazy reaction and surprising to Gray. He had been emotionally numbed out for a long time...ever since Julia’s murder.

  Frowning, Gray slammed the door shut on his aching past. Instead, he zeroed in on the woman’s square face, her high cheekbones and wide-spaced blue eyes. Damn, she was good-looking as hell. A ten in his book. Yet his SEAL senses warned him that something wasn’t right about her. Nothing appeared out of place, but his finely honed intuition was never wrong. It had saved his life way too many times to count over in Afghanistan when he was with SEAL Team 3.

  Not close enough to really dig into her eyes to ferret out what he sensed, Gray saw her mouth was full. Even lush. Brushed with pink lipstick. Her cheekbones were high. He wondered if she had Native American blood in her. There was keen intelligence in Skylar’s eyes, and Gray applauded that. Iris wouldn’t hire someone for the wildlife center who didn’t have a lot on the ball. His heart stirred for the first time in two years. What was it about this woman that was making him feel once again?

  Gray rubbed his recently shaved chin. Skylar Pascal dressed conservatively. Even her footwear showed that. She wore no heels, just commonsense white leather shoes. Sunlight glinted off her plain gold earrings and a practical watch wrapped around her slender right wrist. He liked the way her hair glinted with red, brown and blond highlights as the early-morning sunlight slanted across the narrow valley. His fingers positively itched to tunnel through that shining, thick mass.

  Gray turned away, snorting to himself. He headed down the path toward the one-story redbrick building not far away. The sign above the two main double glass doors read: Elk Horn Wildlife Center. He’d helped lay those bricks to create the building as well as the sidewalk he traversed. Glad to have his black nylon goose-down jacket on, he saw his breath turn white in the freezing air. The sky was a light blue, cloudless, and he loved this quiet time of the day.

  His heart turned back to Skylar Pascal. Who was she? Iris had her résumé on her desk, but hadn’t offered it to him. She’d interviewed ten people so far, and none had met her criteria. Iris was in her seventies and knew what she wanted.

  She’d single-handedly built the Elk Horn into one of the most economically successful ranches in the valley. Iris was like a sweet, silver-haired grandmother to him. That nurturing exuded from her. Iris and her second husband, Timothy, along with her son, Rudd, and the rest of her family, ran the ranch.

  Halting, Gray partly turned to see Skylar Pascal disappearing inside the office door. He wondered obliquely how her interview would fare with Iris Mason.

  Iris had the skill of a SEAL when it came to ferreting out a person and looking behind their game face. That was one of the many things Gray liked about the woman. She saw far and deep into a person. She’d seen him, and he hadn’t tried to hide who and what he was. He’d been a wounded military contractor who had lost his wife to Russian mafia drug runners in Peru two years ago. He’d been flown home physically wounded and emotionally devastated by the experience. And when he’d interviewed with Iris, she’d seen him, warts and all. Every question she’d asked, Gray answered truthfully and without hesitation. Iris liked his honesty. And she’d hired him on the spot.

  Gray wondered what Iris would think of Skylar Pascal. She appeared elegant, beautiful and confident to him. But he knew from his twenty-nine years of living that looks were deceiving. Iris had a hunting-dog nose for people, for their foibles, their weaknesses and their strengths. She’d certainly dismantled him in a hurry during his interview. But Gray hadn’t been threatened by Iris or her questions. And he had been a SEAL where one’s honor, never telling a lie, worked in his favor during that two-hour interview with Iris.

  As he wandered toward the center, Gray found himself wishing that Skylar Pascal would pass the test. He didn’t know why. He really had wanted a male assistant, not a woman. But his desire was based upon a very brutal experience that would live with him until the day he died.

  Iris had been rather upbeat about this woman coming in for the interview. She was an R.N., and Iris wanted someone with that degree here at the ranch. He found it synchronistic Julia had been an R.N., too. Shrugging, he put it all out of his mind. He had no say in who Iris hired or fired. He was just grateful she’d hired him because in doing so, Iris had given him his life back whether she knew it or not.

  * * *

  “THANKS FOR COMING,” Iris said, gesturing for Skylar to sit down in front of her desk after shaking her hand. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

  Sky sat down, placing the purse in her lap. Her heart was beating so hard she wondered if the older woman could hear it. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  “Just ate?” Iris asked, smiling briefly as she sat down.

  “Yes, ma’am, I did.” Well, it wasn’t a lie. Sky had had coffee and some toast. It was all her tense, tight stomach would hold. When she got nervous like this, if she ate too much, she’d get sick. Not what she wanted to happen this morning.

  Iris tilted her head and studied the woman. “Ma’am?” She tapped the résumé beneath her hand. “Must be your Navy training coming out?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sky murmured. She liked the maternal energy she felt around Iris Mason. The elder was about
five feet five inches tall, with merry-looking blue eyes that missed nothing. Her silver hair was up in an askew knot on the top of her head. On the corner of the desk was a beat-up straw hat that she probably wore when outside.

  “You don’t need to call me ‘ma’am.’ Do you like to be called Skylar?”

  “Actually, if you don’t mind, most people call me Sky.”

  Iris nodded. “Pretty name, either way.” She frowned and went over her résumé. At certain points, Iris had a red circle next to the item. “You were in the Navy after you graduated from college. What pushed you that direction, Sky?”

  “My father had been in the Marine Corps for four years. He always talked enthusiastically about the military and how it made him a man.” She shrugged, her hands damp on her purse. “I loved all his stories about the Marine Corps. I thought it would be a good fit.” Sky tried to keep her voice low and even. Inwardly, she was taut with anxiety. Luckily, there were lots of windows and light around her. Sky couldn’t stand closed-in places. It would send her into a full-blown panic attack. Or a dreaded flashback.

  “So you did this out of duty to your country?”

  “I wanted to be of service. My specialty is emergency-room medicine. I thought I could be of more help at the front lines.” She shrugged a little shyly. “Maybe save some lives...”

  Nodding, Iris said, “I like people who like to serve. Here on our ranch, we get six dude-ranch families in every week from June first to September first. I like people who want to help others.” She squinted her eyes and studied Sky. “Did you get that service gene from your mother or your father?”

  Sky tried to smile. “My mother.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  Sky felt suddenly exposed. Normally, interviews were straightforward and about only her job. Iris, however, seemed to have another agenda. Why? “My mother, Balin, is a full-blood Cheyenne. From the time I could remember, she taught me about generosity, being accountable and helping others. She has always been my role model.”

  Iris nodded. “Native Americans have a high ethical code, and you are lucky you have a mother like that to raise you in those traditions.”

  “Yes, Ms. Mason, I think so.”

  “Call me Iris,” she said. “I don’t stand much on ceremony around here. Okay?”

  Sky relaxed slightly. “Of course, Iris.”

  Tapping the résumé with her pen, Iris said, “The job I’m looking to fill requires someone who is a multitasker of sorts, Sky. I need an R.N. here who can take care of bumps, bruises and scrapes our ranch guests get. I need a babysitter from time to time because some families bring in very young children. Even babies. And they need to be watched and cared for. Then there is my wildlife center. I need to hire an assistant to help Grayson McCoy, who runs it. That means cleaning up poop from the wild animals and doing any other dirty, grimy job that needs to be done. We have two timber wolves, for starters. Gray’s mother, Isabel McCoy, is a world expert on wolf behavior. How are you around kids, babies and animals?”

  Sky felt some of her tension bleed off. “I love children, Iris. Babies especially. And animals always lift my spirit.”

  “Good. What about playing nursemaid to the kids if they get a cut or bruise?”

  “My E.R. background can take care of just about anything that comes up without any problem.”

  “Are you afraid to work around wild animals?”

  No. Just human animals. Sky compressed her lips and shook her head. “I’m not afraid of animals, Iris.”

  “With your Native American blood, I’m guessing that nature and anything livin’ in it would appeal to you?”

  “I love being outdoors,” Sky whispered, suddenly emotional. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and forced them back. “I live to breathe fresh air, feel the wind on my face, the warmth of sun on my skin. I love all animals. I respect them.” And in the two weeks she’d endured torture, it had been in a cold, damp, airless room without any windows.

  “Thought you might,” Iris said with a grin. “It’s in your blood. In your bones.”

  “Yes,” Sky said with a slight smile.

  “How are you at getting along with men?”

  The question startled Sky. She saw the bulldog set of Iris’s expression. “Why...er...fine. I was in the military, and although I was a nurse, I worked around far more men than women without any problem.”

  “I see.” Iris tapped the résumé. “If you were doing so well in the Navy, why’d you leave it, Sky?”

  Her throat tightened. Her fingers clenched the leather purse in her lap. Sky was about to give her a standard, pat answer, but something warned her to be honest with Iris. Was it because the woman was so nurturing and warm? “Well,” she choked out, “I actually received an honorable medical discharge. I—I didn’t want to leave the Navy, but I had to.”

  Iris sat up, studying her in the thickening silence. “Can you tell me why you received that kind of a discharge? Did you have some kind of health condition that wouldn’t allow you to continue being a Navy nurse?”

  Sky knew in her heart that the job was hers if she just came clean. There was something magical about Iris Mason. The feeling that she wouldn’t hold the truth against her gave Sky the courage to answer her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SKY TOOK A deep breath. Iris was the only other person, besides her parents, that she would tell. Too afraid of judgment from others, Sky evaded and avoided the truth at every turn with everyone. Even her father, who had told her to grow up and take it like a man. She licked her lower lip, and the words came out in a strained whisper. “I was in a helicopter crash and was one of the two survivors. I was then captured by the Taliban.” Her brows dipped, and she closed her eyes for a moment, all the terrifying emotions welling up inside her as she brought it all back. “I—uh...I was tortured for two weeks before a SEAL rescue team found me.” Lifting her head, Sky tried to steel herself for a reaction similar to her father’s. Instead, she saw nothing but sympathy in Iris Mason’s wrinkled face.

  “I’m so sorry,” Iris said, her voice heavy with regret. “Do you have any physical problems because of it?”

  Sky shook her head. “No...none. I’m a hard worker, Iris. I love outdoor, physical work. It actually helps me....”

  Iris nodded, frowning and giving her a patient look. “It took a lot of courage to tell me this.”

  Her fingers knotted a frayed thread on the edge of her purse. “Yes, ma’am...I mean...Iris.” Sky wanted to cry because Iris’s reaction was the same as her mother’s. It gave her the courage to look up and meet the elder’s darkened gaze. “You should know,” she went on, “that I have PTSD. The six months I was at Balboa Naval Hospital I received therapy for it.”

  Iris nodded. “You’ll be glad to know you have company here on the ranch. Gray McCoy, the man who runs my wildlife center, is an ex–Navy SEAL. He has PTSD, too.”

  Sky’s eyes widened, and she stared over the desk at Iris. “Really?” He was in the military. In the Navy. She knew a lot about the SEALs because so often these operators were wounded in action and arrived at her E.R. at Bagram. They were true heroes in her eyes. Men made of flesh and bone with lions’ hearts. She’d treated them over the years and had come to admire and respect them for their courage, their grit and toughness.

  “Really,” Iris murmured. “Can you still operate with people, around children and babies, with your PTSD?”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “What can’t you do?”

  Sky liked her question. “I, um, don’t do well in dark, enclosed spaces that have no fresh air.”

  “Crowds?”

  Sky shrugged. “I don’t like going into a movie or restaurant that’s full of people.”

  “Would six dude-ranch families be too much for you to be around?”

  “No
.” And Sky’s mouth drew up a little. “Besides, I love kids. And babies. I never feel anxiety around them. Just...crowds.”

  “I like your honesty, Sky. It becomes you.”

  “Thank you. I feel as if I can trust you. I don’t know why, but I do. I don’t want to be hired without you knowing that....”

  “I’ve got a small office in back,” Iris said, pointing behind her. “I was thinking it could be used as a medical office.”

  “Does it have at least one window?”

  She nodded. “Has two. That work for you?”

  “Yes, that would work. Thank you.”

  “What kind of symptoms do you have, Sky?”

  “Nightmares,” she admitted, scowling. “I have them a lot, and I wake up screaming.”

  “Well, Gray and you have another thing in common—nightmares.”

  Sky almost felt as if she already knew this man. “I feel for him,” she said. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.”

  “Do you lose a lot of sleep because of it?”

  “I get between three and five hours of sleep a night.” Sky shrugged. “I’m a nurse, and I hate taking drugs. I refuse to take sleep medication. My mother told me a long time ago that dreams were a way of healing ourselves, and I believe her. If I take sleep meds, I don’t dream. I guess I’d rather tough through the nightmares because sooner or later, the trauma will defuse itself through them, and I’ll be free. I hope.”

  “You and I hate drugs,” Iris murmured, amusement in her eyes. “I have no problem with you having nightmares and not wanting to take meds to knock you out.”

  “Good.”

  “Any other symptoms I should know about?”

  “I get panic attacks if I’m in a small, dark room.”

  “What else?”

  Sky bit down on her lower lip, her lashes sweeping downward. Iris was acting as if none of this bothered her. Was she really contemplating hiring her? How much should she divulge? Fear gnawed at her. “I get anxiety when I’m overly stressed.”