Instinct

The headlines were always the same: someone getting arrested, someone in politics doing something stupid, someone wanting to bring something new and improved to the area. I was all for new and improved. Business was business—and more business meant more money in my pocket.

Something clanged and then the sound of dishes crashing to the floor drew my attention across the diner. One of the servers had apparently misjudged how much she could carry. I was glad it wasn’t mine. Mine? Was nearly gone, the huge pile of bacon and eggs really hitting the spot.

I turned my attention back to the paper and skimmed down to see if one of those new and improved proposals had a bid deadline. Sure enough, I’d missed out yet again. It seemed like there was some good ‘ol boy handshaking going on because some of these firms were only giving a week’s notice or were posting after the fact just to cover their asses. Either way, I wasn’t getting any of the business. I growled and sipped at my lukewarm coffee, wondering just how I was going to keep paying my crew through the winter.

I could always get by. But the men and women who worked for me depended on me to keep them working so they could support their families a little easier through the worst of the winter months.

Raucous laughter erupted from the middle of the room and drew my attention again. Six men were gathered around a long table, talking and laughing and carrying on. I recognized them in an instant: ranchers who got together once a week when they made their runs to town for feed or other supplies.

Try as I might to ignore them, they just kept getting louder and louder. One of the men laughed hard, almost snorting. “Ha! There ain’t been no wolves ’round here in years!”

I groaned. Not this shit again.

One man sat up in defense of the other’s laughing. “What? You don’t think I know what a wolf howling sounds like? Hell, I even saw some tracks near the back fence.”

Another man shook his head. “Well, you know they were wanting to reintroduce wolves back into these parts. Import them from Canada or some far off place.”

Another grumbled around a mouthful of food. “Tell you one thing. I find a wolf on my land, that bastard’ll spend the rest of its life decorating my wall.”

All of the men agreed… ‘I hear that’ echoing around the table.

I frowned and folded the paper. It never quite set well when the subject of wolves was broached. I wasn’t fond of them myself, but I had a link to them like no other. A link I couldn’t get rid of to save my life.

Digging in my wallet, I counted out payment for breakfast and a tip and set it beneath my mostly empty coffee cup. Beth would gripe and complain that I needed to let her ring me up, but she was nowhere to be seen and I wanted out of that place before I said something stupid.

I liked Charlie’s Diner and hated the thought of having to find somewhere else that gave me the same level of service. Beth always had me a plate made—warm and waiting—every morning of the week for the past three years. It was something different every day, but it was always heavy on the meat. And I did like meat.

* * *

A sharp knock sounded on the door to the office just before it opened. Beth poked her head inside, smiling as I looked up. “You hungry, Ethan?”

Hungry? Oh yeah. Had been since about an hour after breakfast. I tried to keep the office stocked with food to snack on, but with me trying to save a little money, I’d been doing without. And when I say saving money… I really was saving money. My grocery bill alone was over a thousand dollars a month.

“I could eat.”

Beth smirked and walked in, shutting and locking the front door behind her. There were two paper bags in her hands and I could tell they were full. The bags were set on my desk and she paused a moment.

“Want some company?”

I sat up in the chair and began clearing away files and papers and supply books. If there was ever someone to share a meal with, it was Beth.

“There’s nothing I’d like better, darlin’.”

Hazel eyes flashed up at me, clearly amused. “So it’s true; the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

I laughed. “Well, I do have a few other requirements.”

Beth opened the bags and began removing Styrofoam plates. “That’s right. My tits are too big and I have an innie.”

I grabbed her wrist, smiling up at her as our eyes met. “If I swung that way, you’d be the first I called.”

“Don’t think I’m guilt-tripping you. I’m just teasing.”

“I know you are.” I let her go and gestured to the chair just behind her. “So, what goodness did you bring us?”

“For you? Steak, potatoes, chicken-fried steak.” She shrugged. “I figured you might want a little variety other than just meat. And for me? I have a lovely… salad.”

“Not like I have much choice in that,” I said as I found the plate with the chicken-fried steak and opened it. “But then again, I can’t see actually craving a salad…”

She threw a balled-up napkin at me, glaring. “Not like I crave salads either. Bastard.”

“I’m sorry—”

Beth held her hand up, shaking her head. “Don’t even. I’m just bitchy. Those assholes didn’t leave the diner ’til about an hour ago.”

I shook my head and paused before taking a bite of my food. “That’s why I left earlier. Figured it was best that I not get involved.”

“I forgive you for leaving without being rung up.”

With a guilty half-smile, I started eating. Beth did the same and we fell into a comfortable silence. As I finished the chicken-fried steak and most of the potatoes, I sat back, letting my food settle a bit before I started in on more. Beth was staring at my desk, seeming lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind?” When she continued her gazing and didn’t look up, I called her name. “Beth!”

“Hmm?” She looked up, then raised a brow. “What?”

“I asked what was on your mind.”

She dropped her fork and sat back in her chair, sighing. “I hate to even mention it, because it always leads to a fight, but the guys in the diner this morning haven’t been the only ones going on about wolves. In the past month or so, several people have mentioned hearing them and… seeing tracks.”

“Dogs,” I whispered. “Probably coyotes.”

“Big tracks, Ethan. Big enough to get people talking, to get them unsettled enough to start seeking out what’s leaving them.”

“It’s not me.” I gripped the arms of my chair so hard the wood creaked. “It’s never been me.”

“I know you well enough to be sure of that. But I also know that there are… people out there who want to make trouble— especially if it means getting you involved.”

“I’m not getting involved. Let them talk; let them speculate. I’ll sit right beside them and pretend to join in.”

“Mmmhmm.” She picked up her fork again and stabbed at her salad, breaking the tines of the plastic fork. “And let that pack of assholes walk all over you!”

“Leave it alone, Beth.”

“When are you going to suck it up and realize that you can’t get away from this by ignoring it?”

I slammed my fist on the desk, anger beginning to take hold at her words. It always led to a fight alright. Because she couldn’t seem to let things go. But I didn’t have to listen to it in my own office. “Get out!”

Beth glared at me, shoved her salad away, and stood. The chair scraped loudly against the wooden floor and then tipped over backward. She turned and started for the door, paused, but didn’t turn around. “You used to say that you wish Jake had killed you that night. I think he did—you just haven’t realized it yet.”