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Yelping, it ran off into the woods. The rest of the pack followed. 

He didn’t have long. The coyotes wouldn’t give up that easily, not when there was this much meat at stake. 

Not meat, he corrected himself—Desi and Cletis. He had learned to ride on their backs; he had used their solid bodies for warmth during the early spring sowing; he had fed them apples and carrots from his own hand. But it wasn’t the bloody, hulking mass of their bodies that concerned him; it was the smaller form huddled nearby. 

The coyotes had been at his face. 

Charlie wanted to kill them all, just for that. It was Rick, unquestionably; his ancient dungarees were soaked with blood, but Charlie recognized the hand-tooled boots that his father had given Rick for Christmas when they both returned from the war. The soles were worn shiny from daily wear, but the stylized mountains were distinctive and as familiar to Charlie as Rick himself had been. 

As a mountain lion, he could not weep, but everything inside him shook as if sobs were wracking his body. How had this happened? How was it possible that Rick, the finest outdoorsman he knew, had died like this?

Rick’s gun was laying beside him. Charlie sniffed the barrels, only to recoil at the acrid scent of gunpowder. 

So Rick had seen what came for him and managed to get at least one shot off. 

But what could have taken down Rick and both the horses? 

Maybe a large pack of wolves. But wolves rarely attacked men, and even if they had gone for one of the horses they would have been scared off when Rick fired the gun. Bears, maybe … but at this time of year they had much easier prey to choose from than two large, healthy horses and an armed man. Besides, bears didn’t hunt in packs, and whatever had done this had definitely worked in a team. 

Neither of the horses had run, which meant they were both taken at the same time. The blood was pooled around them, so they must have died almost instantly. There were bloody pawprints from any number of animals who had come to feed. How long had these bodies been here? Two hours, ten? His nose was sensitive, but he didn’t have the experience to tell the difference. 

The coyotes were back. 

Charlie could hear their low growls, see their eyes shining in the moonlight. Nine, now, circling him. 

He wanted to rip them all to shreds, drive them howling into the night, to keep them from desecrating Rick’s corpse any further. Charlie crouched low over Rick, his growl a guttural rumble of rage and sorrow. 

Charlie had never hungered for blood, never hunted as anything more than sport, but now he wanted destroy something, the way Rick had been destroyed. 

But reason niggled at him. Even if he slaughtered every one of these coyotes, more would come. Or something worse. 

Coyotes he could handle, but wolves and bears were a different story. 

If he had a team of men, or a couple of horses, he could get their bodies back home. But he was all alone out here, and there was no help coming. 

He knew fighting the coyotes was futile, but he loathed the idea of leaving Rick and the horses here to be scavenged. 

The coyotes were closing in now, their slavering jaws exposed as they prepared to attack.

With a howl of anguish, Charlie bowled his way through the pack and bounded up the hill. A few of the coyotes followed him, but he quickly outpaced them with his superior strength and agility. Once they realized that most of the pack had returned to their meal, they turned tail to get their fair share. Charlie felt nauseated, but he had to keep running. He had to get back to town, get home, get help. 

The run was long and grueling, but he barely noticed. His brain felt numb, and he lost himself in the pounding of his paws against the earth. Every now and then, his thoughts would stray back to the gulch, to the coyotes, to what he had lost, and the cancerous ache inside him would threaten to swallow him whole. So he would push himself to run faster, faster, as if he could leave the pain behind.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Briar

The moment Briar’s eyes opened at ten the next morning, she remembered everything. It was not a dream, not her imagination. Every horrible thing that had happened in the last twelve hours was real.

Charlie had left right after dinner the night before. Briar and Charlie’s parents had resigned themselves to a full day of waiting before Charlie came back with Rick. They had just been settling down to watch
The Jack Benny Program
when Charlie came screeching up in his truck. 

Then there had been the calls to the police station. Officer Matt Harris, who had been reinstated to the police force, answered the call. Briar and the Hustons had piled into the family sedan and led Matt on a frantic drive out to Rick’s land, where the officer insisted they wait for him to investigate. She would never forget the grim look on Matt’s face when he emerged from the gulch and radioed the police station. 

“We’re going to need some help with this one,” Matt had said, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s pretty bad.”

Captain Barton arrived, caravaning with three army Jeeps. Briar had to admire their efficiency; a dozen uniformed men hopped out of the truck with large packs on their backs and melted into the night. An hour later they returned, bearing a shrouded figure on a stretcher. 

That’s when Charlie’s father broke down. He would have collapsed to the ground if he wasn’t supported by his wife and son. Briar had watched them from a few feet away, aching with sympathy at their loss.

And, if she was honest with herself, faintly jealous of their unity. 

The soldiers loaded Rick’s body into the truck around four in the morning. It trundled off to deliver the body to Dr. Porter’s clinic while the soldier slipped back into the woods to bury the horses. 

Charlie had pulled Matt aside, hoping that he would have some clue as to how Rick had died, but Matt just shook his head. 

“We’ll have to wait for the doctor to take a look at him. And with the amount of damage to the body … well. We may never know exactly what happened.”

Charlie had nodded, his face luminously pale. His haunted eyes were smudged with dark circles. He nearly stumbled with exhaustion, but Briar was there to support him. 

“Someone did this to him,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Not something. Someone.”

“You need to rest,” she had replied, and sure enough he nodded off in the car as they were driving back to town. His already-thin body felt nearly skeletal after his transformation and long run. Briar had held him while he slept, hoping he could take a little solace in rest. The morning would come soon, and with it the dawn of a life without Rick. 

Charlie’s mother was driving, and from time to time she glanced in the rearview mirror to watch Charlie sleeping against Briar’s shoulder. When she pulled into the Huston’s driveway, she didn’t turn the car off. 

“Can you take him inside? Make sure he eats something?”

“You aren’t coming in?” It was just past five, and pink sunlight was already spreading across the sky. 

Mrs. Huston looked at her husband, who had been staring blankly out the window the entire drive. “No. We’re going to the clinic. Someone has to officially identify the body. And then there are arrangements to make.”

“Maybe you should try to get a few hours sleep,” Briar offered. “That can wait until later.”

Charlie’s mother shook her head. “We’ll do better keeping busy. But Charlie’s dead tired. Tell him we’ll be back later today. And Briar? Please take care of him.”

Her gaze held Briar’s steadily. Briar felt as if she was passing a torch of some kind. 

“I will,” Briar said solemnly before shaking Charlie awake. 

The sun had risen by the time Briar got some soup into Charlie and helped him to bed. She took off his clothes and shoes and laid his cane on his bedside table. 

“Sleep now,” she whispered, kissing his forehead.

“Stay with me,” he mumbled. “Please stay with me.” 

So she did.

Now, just a few hours later, she was tempted to snuggle back into Charlie, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep any longer. The previous night was too fresh in her mind. Still, it felt sweet and solid to wake up in Charlie’s arms. 

His breath rustled the back of her hair, and she was tucked up against his body. They were in his bedroom, nested into each other in his narrow single bed. It was much the same as it had been the previous morning, with one big difference. The ache in her heart. 

Charlie’s breath was speeding up, losing the calm cadence of sleep. His leg jerked, then he clutched her convulsively as he tore awake.

She watched the realizations cross his face. He had been dreaming, and for one brief second on waking he’d been glad to leave the dream behind. Then he’d remembered that the waking world was the real nightmare. 

Briar turned into him and hugged him as tightly as she could.

He took several long, steadying breaths. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “Me too.”

He sighed heavily. “I guess I should go find out how I can help. My dad ….”

“Yeah.”

He made no move to get up, and Briar didn’t push him. They lay wrapped in each other, taking comfort in their unity. If it were possible, she would stay in this sun-drenched bed with him forever. 

“I wasn’t joking,” he said suddenly.

“About what?” she said, pushing her sleep-tousled curls off her face.

“Yesterday,” he said slowly, “was one of the best mornings of my life. Waking up with you, making love to you.”

She smiled. “Me too.”

“And this morning is one of the worst of my life. I can’t believe that Rick is gone.”

She smoothed her hands over his stubbly chin, wishing she could wipe away the suffering. “I know.”

His eyes were clear green in the morning light. “Having you here, though, makes it more bearable. With you, I feel like I can live through anything.”

The way he was looking at her had her heart stumbling. The morning sunlight bathed them both in gold.

“I love you,” he said. His eyes were sleepy and sad, and she could see herself reflected in them. “I didn’t want to feel this way, because I didn’t want to open myself up to pain. But all I was doing was closing myself off from joy. You’re the one who taught me that.”

Briar’s heart ached with pleasure. The sunlight was sparkling through the tears in her eyes. This man, who had been nearby her whole life, had become closer to her than anyone. “You taught me that some people are worth trusting. I can be myself with you, which I’ve never done with anyone else. It means so much to me that you know my flaws, and want me anyway.”

“Back atcha,” he said, making her smile. Then his face grew somber, his eyes soft and yearning. “I was going to make you dinner this weekend. Go all out, everything my mother taught me, down to my first strawberry-rhubarb pie. But I can’t wait any longer. I never thought I’d feel this way, I never thought I’d look forward to the future again. But with you, I can’t wait to see what life will bring. Will you marry me, Briar?” 

“Yes,” she said, feeling the same exhilarated shock as when she first encountered a mountain lion in the woods. “Yes, yes. I couldn’t make up a man I love as much as you.”

A grin cracked his serious face and he kissed her—first quick and thrilled, then slow and deep.

“I’m going to make you happy,” she said, snuggling into him with a satisfied sigh, “and that’s the truth.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Briar

Briar could barely tear her herself away from Charlie, but she ran upstairs to his old bedroom to get dressed for the day while he made breakfast. When she skipped back down after a mere five minutes, there were already eggs frying in a pan and bread in the toaster.

There was also a gold ring sparkling on the counter top.

Briar skidded to a stop. “Is that … where did …?”

Charlie turned. “Shoot. You weren’t supposed to come down yet.”

“Huh?”

“I was going to do a thing,” he said, gesturing to the table set with a cold pitcher of milk and, to her delight, a single rose tucked in a vase. “I was going to put it in your milk glass, like a surprise.”

A laugh bubbled up. “A surprise I could have choked on.”

“Well, I suppose you’re right about that.” There was an unfamiliar look on his face as he tapped his cane against the floor. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Briar picked up the ring, admiring the circle of rubies around a single pearl. “Charlie, I love it.”

“It belonged to my great-grandma,” he said. “I never knew her. My mom said she was very beautiful and very wise, which reminds me of you.”

Her heart melted like butter. “Oh, Charlie.”

“I know it’s old. And maybe you want something fancier,” he said quickly. “We can go to the jewelry store and look around.”

“Not on your life,” she said. The gold band was silky with age and rich in color. “I can’t imagine a more perfect ring.”

His shoulders relaxed, and she realized what was odd about his expression. He was nervous.

She walked to him, held out her hand. “Will you put it on for me?”

Charlie rested his cane against the counter and took her left hand in his. His breath was short and his eyes bright as he slipped the ring over her finger. 

Just like that, in the slide of gold against her skin, Briar felt her life change. The door closed on the past as the ring settled into place. 

In his eyes, she saw the same awestruck rightness that filled her. As one, they reached for each other. 

It was a kiss full of promises. The world might be dangerous and frightening, but they had each other to depend on. Forever.

Briar felt the glow of love banking as they walked toward the police station. Charlie’s hand was tucked in hers, but she could tell his mind was elsewhere. She wished she could help him through his grief, but she knew better than anyone he had to process things in his own time.