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  Dean gave the Sioux a puzzled look, not catching Steve’s meaning until the younger man was heading toward the river. That was right. The newest member of the project was a woman; that would change things. He was a little surprised that Steve had mentioned that fact. Even after all the time the two men had spent together, women seldom entered their conversation.

  He didn’t even know how old Calley Stewart was, although the date of her graduation from college gave him a clue that she was probably still in her twenties. His predecessor, Mike Bailey, was barely thirty. The two, Dean knew, had more than age in common. Not that it had anything to do with Calley’s qualifications for the job. What people did in private was their own business to Dean’s way of thinking.

  “Damn!” Dean heard Steve shout from the river and guessed that the Indian had stepped naked into the water and was regretting his action. Dean smiled and slipped into his tent to retrieve his log. Steve should try dunking in an Alaskan stream if he wanted to experience cold. Dean wrote by the light of a lantern until Steve returned, dressed in faded but clean jeans and a cotton shirt that looked as if it had been at the bottom of his sleeping bag for a week.

  “Your turn,” Steve said conversationally. “It’s good for the soul. Besides, I’m going to make you sleep in the woods if you don’t start smelling a hell of a lot better in a hurry.”

  Dean figured it would probably be a toss-up which man would win a wrestling match over sleeping spots, but he had no objection to ridding himself of the day’s exertions. Steve was the shorter of the two, but with shoulders that took an extra large shirt, the same size Dean wore. The Indian’s thighs were probably larger, but Dean had calves that pressed against whatever pants he wore. They both had big hands, a trait Dean decided was as important in their work as the equipment he’d collected over the years.

  Dean pushed through the lower branches of the evergreens that stood between him and the river, instinct and keen hearing telling him better than a flashlight where the gentle slope leading to the river began. When he could smell the water, he stopped, stripped off his clothes and then walked forward until biting cold reached his knees. He’d learned from Steve’s outcry. He was going to take the river inches at a time, washing from the feet up.

  Dean was shivering but clean by the time he emerged from the river with a slippery bar of soap trapped in his right hand. He dropped the soap close to the pile of clean clothes he’d brought with him and quickly pulled on shorts, jeans and socks. Because he was in a hurry to return to camp, he didn’t bother with a shirt or boots. His soap was covered with pine needles, but he was able to rub most of them off with the flannel shirt he’d been wearing for two days.

  He’d spotted the light coming from the lantern and was tenderfooting his way through the pine needles when he heard the rumble of a vehicle. The vehicle stopped where he knew his pickup was parked; the sound of two feminine voices cut through the darkness.

  The higher voice he recognized as belonging to his assistant, Melinda Stone. The deeper, quieter one sent a sudden shaft of electricity up his naked spine. He had no understanding of his reaction, only that it was intense.

  Dean thought about slipping his shirt over his shoulders, but he was burdened with dirty clothes and the bar of soap. Instead, he stepped into the flickering light with his boots tied over his shoulder and bouncing lightly against his naked chest.

  Calley heard the approach of the man before she saw him. A newcomer to the forest would have heard nothing, but Calley had been trained out-of-doors. She knew which sounds went with her surroundings and which didn’t. The muffled thump told her that the man wasn’t wearing boots and that he was packing close to two hundred pounds on his frame.

  He came into the circle of light afforded by the lantern hanging from a branch. Calley’s first impression was that the man had spent so many years around grizzlies that he was starting to blend in with them and take on their traits. Melinda had been right about the beard and the hair. It was too dark to see if there really was gray in the mass covering his face but not so dark that she couldn’t see his eyes glinting like polished stones.

  She waited, her hands held easily at her side, letting him make the first move. It was probably the setting, the night, the whispering from the river that was doing this to her, but there was no ignoring the pull she felt traveling from him to her.

  Calley shook off the sensation. She didn’t try to deny its existence, only its influence over her. This was only a man, a hard, competent man coming out of the environment he’d settled for in life.

  “Calley Stewart. It must be Wednesday,” Dean said. His words slackened his spell over her and gave her the freedom to breathe again.

  The forest, Calley knew, had a way of stripping away a sense of time. The usual landmarks were missing in the agelessness of the wilderness. When mist settled into the mountain valleys, dawn and dusk became the same. “We’re late,” she made herself say as she drew closer to the flickering lamplight. The man belonged here. Maybe more so than anyone she’d ever known. “I broke a fan belt. It’s a wonder we didn’t get swallowed up in some of those potholes. I swear they were three feet deep.”

  Dean didn’t speak until he was close to the light, showing her that there was indeed a hint of tan in the black beard. “Did you get it fixed?”

  “Yes,” she answered simply. Talking shouldn’t be so hard. She knew what words should be said; all she had to do was open her mouth and let them come out. “That’s what happens when you grow up driving tractors. You learn to carry spare fan belts.”

  “I hope you’re good with brakes; mine have about had it.” Dean turned from Calley, freeing her from his gaze. “What are you doing here, Melinda?” he asked.

  “It was a joint decision,” Calley explained. “Melinda and I go back several years. I knew her when I was working before for the university. She’s quite a photographer.”

  “So I understand.” Dean’s glance swung back toward Calley. His eyes were a deep blue with flecks of black in their center. At least that’s how they looked by the lamplight. “And she’s hoping to get some shots of grizzlies. What about that paperwork I left on my desk?”

  Melinda spoke for herself. “Paperwork can wait; grizzlies won’t. Some fool called yesterday asking about some pictures I’d taken of a bull elk. He wanted directions to the place before hunting season. I’m afraid I wasn’t able to oblige.”

  Dean smiled. Melinda was right, Calley decided. His teeth were white, very white. “I just hope the two of you aren’t going to be disappointed,” he continued. “All we have to show for our time so far is a black with a bad tooth. The signs of grizzlies are here, but no sightings so far.”

  Melinda winked broadly, which allowed Calley to think about something other than white teeth and flecks of black in blue eyes. “Do you think we should tell them?” Melinda asked.

  It took Calley a moment to catch on to what Melinda was getting at. “It’s as my father used to say,” she said, noticing that Dean was able to stand comfortably in his stocking feet despite the rocky ground. “We knew hunters who would crawl all over the country looking for mule deer while we had them in with the cattle herd. ‘Don’t have to look for them,’ Dad would say. ‘They’re right under our noses.’”

  At Dean’s puzzled look, Calley quickly explained how they’d spent the early morning. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” she mused aloud, hoping Dean would understand without much explaining. “Some grizzlies retreat when man pushes them. Others stand their ground. These three decided to stay where they were. I first heard about that grizzly crossing back when I was in high school. Some people tried to film a commercial there once. A few of my friends and I drove out there and told them about the bears. Those cameramen didn’t stay long.”

  Dean nodded. “There’s two other grizzlies who hang out there,” he explained. “A mature male and a female who I figure is barren. They’re kind of like the deer in your father’s fields. Not quite wild.”

  Dean di
d understand. Calley wanted to say more, but all thought stopped at the sight of lamplight glinting off his naked chest. Dean was hardened in the manner of men who needed to be fit for the kind of work they did. Black hairs curled away from smooth skin stretched over muscles. Except for the scar running from his right armpit down his rib cage, he was perfection.

  Calley was still looking at the scar when Dean dropped his pile of dirty clothing and slid a fresh shirt over his shoulders. He touched the hard ridge. “I lost that argument,” he said simply.

  “Grizzly?” Calley asked, the untold story chilling her.

  “Grizzly.”

  Calley nodded but didn’t speak. She didn’t know Dean Ramsey well enough to ask him questions about a foot-long scar and memories that maybe still invaded his dreams. He might have been friendly enough a few minutes ago, but now something had risen between them, closing off communication. There was no way she could vault the barrier. She turned away from the light given off by the overhead lamp and started toward her jeep. “We’ll get our things. I’m still not sure how we got everything in there. I figure Melinda and I can both fit in my tent.”

  Steve offered to help unload the jeep, and after Dean put on his boots, he joined in carrying the fresh food supplies to the campsite. Within a half hour the women were set up for the night, and Melinda was filling Dean in on correspondence from a couple of private wildlife preservation organizations that had arrived during his absence from the office. Steve was reading a letter that his parents had sent to him in care of the university. Calley slid her spine down along the evergreen supporting her tent, found a smooth seat on the ground and listened silently.

  She’d been here, or near here, before. With Mike. It had been their job to study the habits and habitat of the grizzlies. She knew how to collect hair, blood, urine and small premolar tooth samples from the animals as well as how to take readings of blood pressure, pulse rate and body temperature. That part of the expedition she was prepared for.

  In a way, it was good that Dean and Steve and Melinda were here. Last year it had been just she and Mike. The presence of more voices, more bodies, took away the rawest edge of that memory. She concentrated on the differences between her companions. Melinda bubbled over with enthusiasm for everything. When she was wrapped up in what she was saying, her voice threatened to disturb the wilderness silence. By contrast, Steve said more with his eyes and body movements than with words. Calley wondered if he’d been raised by parents who didn’t have much need for conversation.

  “I understand you’ve done some work in Yellowstone,” Dean was saying. “Steve put in his time there, too.”

  Calley latched on to the lifeline Dean was unknowingly throwing to her. Maybe she’d only imagined the space he’d placed between them. Her voice was almost lost in the whispering wind sliding through the trees, but she couldn’t help that. “Yellowstone was a one-shot thing,” she explained. “Vegetation maps sent to earth from the Landsat III satellite showed an unusually rich growth of cow parsnips that spring. The biological technician at the park was concerned that the plants might draw more grizzlies than usual to the avalanche slopes. Mike Bailey and I went there as consultants. We made the decision to close the trails and campgrounds in the area.”

  “Small world, isn’t it?” Dean said in a tone that, like hers, almost lost the struggle with the wind. “Mike and I did some graduate work together several years ago. Polar bears that time.”

  “You know Mike?”

  “Who do you think told me about the research director’s job?” Dean asked. “Mike and I go back a long way. After all, there aren’t that many of us who make our living off bears. We have a way of bumping into each other.”

  It made sense. Just as it made sense for Melinda to reach out and touch Calley’s hand in a strength-giving squeeze.

  Chapter Two

  By morning Calley had regained enough control over herself that she was able to look back at the previous night and admit there’d been a strange, wispy, fluttering line existing between reality and entrance into a world ruled only by emotions. She was also able to admit feeling that way around Dean Ramsey didn’t make sense. He wasn’t any different from the other men in her world—intelligent, competent, self-contained, hard-bodied.

  “I went to Washington last year,” Dean was saying as they were cleaning up after breakfast. His tone was friendly and yet reserved, as she would expect from someone she’d just met. “I had to testify at a hearing while Congress was trying to decide how much money to earmark for wildlife research. That was my fourth trip back there. Damnedest mess I ever saw.”

  “You don’t like going to D.C.?” Calley asked. She sat down to wipe off the bottom of her socks as she reached for her boots. “I’d think it would be exciting to see how Congress works.”

  “That part was okay,” Dean said with a shrug, “but most of what I saw was the airport, some taxies and a bunch of dark, smoky rooms. I didn’t get to say half of what I wanted to about what we’re trying to accomplish here. That bothered me. Besides that—” a faint smile touched his eyes “—I don’t think half of those congressmen had any idea what points I was trying to get across. They’re thousands of miles away from the grizzly’s last toehold in America.”

  “They don’t understand that grizzlies need their own space,” Steve said as he emerged from his tent. “Them and some people.”

  At Steve’s words Dean’s smile grew. “They see deer and other wild animals adapting to the presence of man. They don’t understand how it is for the grizzly. Tell me, Calley, how did you get interested in grizzly research? There aren’t that many women doing this.”

  Calley finished lacing her boot and then wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging her legs close to her body. Her eyes never left Dean’s as she spoke. “I touched on that a little last night. My father’s a Montana rancher. I love this state as much as I could love anything. I’d probably be a rancher myself except I was more interested in wildlife than cattle.” Her eyes softened. “Mule deer, wolves and coyotes were what fascinated me as a child. Although there were times when Dad could do without any of them, I guess—” Calley paused, thinking. “I realized there wasn’t anything I wanted more than being out-of-doors. I wasn’t too crazy about having to take science and biology courses, but I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere without a degree in wildlife management. Anyway, like most teenagers, I had some idea of what I wanted. I just wasn’t aware of everything that was entailed. The rest I’ve learned through the school of hard knocks.”

  “And you wound up at the University of Montana. What did you do before you became involved in this project?”

  Calley didn’t know whether Dean was simply making conversation or if he really cared, but she had no objections to answering his questions. “The usual,” she said with a laugh. “When I heard about the research that was going on with the grizzlies, I decided I wanted to do more with my education than telling tourists not to stick their hands outside a car when there’s a bear around.” She winked at Steve to show she shared his sentiments.

  “You left the project for a year.” Dean was ready to leave camp now, but he was making no move in that direction. Instead, he was focusing his entire concentration on Calley. “Why?”

  It had to come down to this. Sooner or later they would have reached this point. Calley would have preferred to have more time to pull her thoughts and emotions together, but maybe that wouldn’t help, either. “That’s personal,” she said, fighting to keep her tone even. For the first time since they started talking, she couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. “I’m back. Can we leave it at that?”

  “For now.” Dean reached for his day pack, his eyes never leaving Calley’s face.

  What if I don’t agree with that? Calley thought as she slipped her own pack over her shoulders. Certain things were no one else’s business.

  At Dean’s suggestion Steve took Melinda with him to a vantage point overlooking a stretch of the Flathead where Dean and Steve h
ad found grizzly signs last week. Melinda was weighed down with her camera equipment but so delighted to have the Indian serve as her guide that she insisted on carrying all the equipment herself. That left Calley and Dean to return to the snares the men had set earlier.

  “I don’t like using snares. I wish there was a better way of accomplishing this short of spending weeks stalking bears to get close enough to tranquilize them,” Dean explained as he secured the opening to his tent. “I believe that a grizzly that has been touched by a human is somehow changed. But there are certain facts that can’t be ascertained from looking at a bear through binoculars.”

  Calley didn’t need to have Dean tell her what that was. She’d been working with Mike when the first stages of the study were being developed. The researchers were in the process of checking bears over a period of several years to determine how much the creatures ranged in their search for food. The question of when and under what conditions grizzlies retreated from human advancement could only be answered by fitting the bears with radio transmitters and tracking their movements.

  “Have you fitted enough bears to have much of a sampling?” Calley asked as she fell in line behind Dean.

  “Not really. That’s why I’m out here for two weeks.” Because the breeze was blowing from Calley to Dean, she had a hard time catching his words. “I had to postpone a graduate-level class I was teaching to finish the sampling, but hopefully I’ll be bringing enough back to the students to make it worth the delay. So you’re a rancher’s daughter. Any brothers or sisters?”

  Calley told Dean about an older sister now married and raising her own farmhands on the spread that had been in her husband’s family for generations. She explained that she’d finally made her peace with her high-energy younger brother after years of having him trail along after her wherever she went. “For years my dad thought Jack would never get off a horse long enough to learn the ranching business, but it looks like he’s going to take over the spread when Dad retires.” It seemed like such a simple statement now. It was almost as if the months of living with uncertainty had never happened.