The Single Dad's Guarded Heart

“Animal pens?” Marlee’s face paled. “Oh, I suppose you keep hunting dogs?”

“Our pens house wild creatures that Dean and I have rescued.”

Marlee raked a hand through her hair. “Wild—oh, Mick said something about that. Isn’t that dangerous? Jo Beth’s a city girl. Where are the pens?”

“It’s a fair walk. I’ll take you.”

“How far?”

“We keep the environment as close to normal for the animals as we can,” he said in explanation. “So when they heal, it’s easier to release them back into their natural habitat.” He led the way to a junction in the trail Marlee hadn’t seen on her trek to the swing.

She had a hard time keeping pace with the ranger’s long stride. Suddenly he stopped. Slightly winded, Marlee caught up.

He parted the dense foliage. “That’s where they got off to, all right. I can hear Dean explaining how he stumbled across Boxer after a rancher shot its mother.”

“Boxer?”

“A griz cub. Yea big.” Wylie shaped his hands to the approximate size of one of the smaller crates.

“Griz, as in grizzly bear?” Her pitch rose, along with her anxiety level.

He nodded and Marlee found herself noticing how deep they were in the forest, enough so that every ray of sunlight was blocked. She prided herself on having a good sense of direction, but now realized she hadn’t paid attention to their route. She was at this man’s mercy and it unnerved her. That and the nonchalant way Wylie Ames discussed grizzlies and gun-toting ranchers.

Marlee bit her lip. “I don’t hear voices.” Closer to the runway, birds chirped and squirrels chattered, but here, surrounded by undergrowth, it seemed uncannily silent.

The ranger placed both little fingers to his lips and rent the air with a shrill whistle. Moments later he repeated the call.

As if Ames had flushed out small varmints, Marlee heard scuttling in the brush. Then an answering whistle sounded, quite some distance off. Very soon, though, childish giggles followed. And in no time, two bright heads burst out of a thicket. One sandy red, the other toffee-brown. Relief unfurled in Marlee’s stomach.

Dean Ames stared curiously at his dad. When the girl traipsing at his heels stumbled on a knobby tree root, the boy instinctively reached back and kept Jo Beth from falling. “Did you want us, Dad?”

Marlee rushed over and pulled Jo Beth tight against her legs as if to shield her from any threat. The woman’s frightened expression gave Wylie an idea of what he was dealing with.

“Son, you told us you were going to the swing. You shouldn’t have gone to the animal pens without telling anyone.”

Dean screwed up his nose as he squinted at his dad. “Where else would I be?”

“Mrs. Stein had no idea. You worried her.”

The freckle-faced boy gaped at Marlee. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I told Jo Beth about my pets and she asked to see them.”

“Mama,” the girl broke in. “Dean’s got his very own bear. The kind we saw at the zoo at home, only littler. Boxer got hurt, but Dean and his daddy are making him better.”

“That’s…commendable,” Marlee said with a quaver in her voice. “Tell Dean goodbye, Jo Beth. We have an order to deliver to Glenroe’s Lodge.”

“You’re going into the backcountry? Dean, run to the house and get Mary’s pie tins.” He turned to face Marlee. “Last time Mick came out, Mary Glenroe sent along a couple of fresh apple pies. Can you tell her thank you?”

“And tell her she can send us more pies,” the boy said.

“Dean, that would be ill-mannered.”

“Doesn’t that tell Mrs. Glenroe we liked her cooking?” “Well, yes, but…” Flustered, Wylie clammed up. He was more dismayed when Marlee laughed. The soft trill seemed to coil around places inside him long untouched. It was a nice sound, even if her laughter was at his expense.

“I’ll tell Mary you loved her pies, Dean. I recall enjoying a slice or two of her peach pies when I wasn’t much older than you.”

Marlee hadn’t realized that the roundabout path Wylie led them down now would end up not at the runway but at the back door of his cabin. Not until Dean darted ahead and she heard the screen door slam. The boy reappeared with pie tins before the others emerged from the woods into a clearing that held a vegetable garden fenced with chicken wire. She’d been so worried about not finding Jo Beth at the swing earlier, she’d completely missed seeing the garden. The neat rows of vegetables surprised her nearly as much as the flower box had. Ranger Ames was domestic, which one wouldn’t imagine looking at his very masculine body.

“Dad, the soup smells yummy. I’m hungry. Can’t Jo Beth and her mom stay and eat with us?”

Wylie and Marlee whipped out a simultaneous denial.

Jo Beth pouted and stamped a foot. “I’m hungry, too, Mama. Why can’t we eat with Dean?”

For the life of her, Marlee couldn’t find a way to tell the two children, who’d obviously hit it off, that neither she nor the boy’s father wanted to remain in each other’s company.

Ames reacted to his son’s disappointment by ruffling the boy’s red hair. Then he sighed, giving in to the pleas of the children. “Won’t take long,” he said to her, sounding gruff even though he smiled at the kids. “A matter of filling bowls and slicing bread.”

Marlee, who’d never felt more like turning tail, wasn’t about to be the bad guy in this setup. “Sure, okay. I’d hate to have Mary think she had to fix us something.” She gave a quick shrug. “They must be getting on in years, Mary and Finn. I haven’t seen them in…fourteen years.”

Wylie opened the back door and stood aside to let his guests enter. “Been three for me. Dean and I had to take a run to the lodge on the big snow cat that winter. Finn had complaints about a couple of guests. Whit Chadwick claimed they chased his sheep, and he’d recognized Finn’s snowmobile. The kids turned out to be Mary’s great-nephews, come from Dallas to celebrate her sixty-fifth birthday. And Finn’s even older.”

“Definitely not spring chickens.” Marlee followed Dean and Jo Beth through a laundry room into a country-style kitchen. She didn’t know what she’d expected—surely a cluttered mess much like she’d found at Mick and Pappy’s. Not so. The Ames’kitchen was spotless. Cheery curtains hung at the windows and bright place mats graced the table. A Crock-Pot on the counter emitted puffs of steam. Good-smelling steam. “Dean’s right,” Marlee said, stopping to close her eyes and sniff. “The soup smells delicious.”

The big man seemed to have retreated within himself once they’d left the great outdoors. He stepped to the sink to wash up, and quickly began to fill the bowls sitting out on the counter. Because he had to open a cupboard to retrieve a fourth bowl, Marlee was reminded that Ames had planned for Mick, and that she and Jo Beth were interlopers.

“Jo Beth, you and I need to wash, too.”

“Dean, show them to the main bath.”

The boy grabbed Jo Beth’s hand. Marlee trailed the chatty pair. As she passedWylie on her way into the hall, she sensed that he relaxed as his kitchen emptied. His son was his exact opposite. Dean and Jo Beth couldn’t seem to shut up, odd since her daughter was usually one to sit quietly, taking in everything around her.

That behavior had worried Marlee on her rare visits home. She’d worried that spending so much time with Cole during the worst of his illness might affect Jo Beth’s ability to relate normally. Her concern eased as the kids discussed what to feed a growing bear cub.

“Dean, that reminds me,” Marlee broke in. “Mick sent a couple of books. They’re still on the plane. Would you like me to go get them now or give them to you when we’re ready to leave?”

“When you leave’s okay. Wow, I wonder if he found the book I read about on the Internet! Bears as Good Neighbors.”

“I don’t know. Before he went for surgery, he gave me the sack and told me to be sure to bring it when we flew your father’s generator parts in.”

“I’m glad you came ’stead of Mick.” He stuttered suddenly. “I—I didn’t mean—gosh, I like him, but you brought Jo Beth. I know she’s littler than me, but it’s neat having another kid to play with.”

“I understand.” Marlee inspected Jo Beth’s hands. “And this one is mature for her age. She spent a lot of time with her dad and grandmother.”

“Does Jo Beth read and write? If she does, we can e-mail. That is—if it’s okay with you. A ranger friend of my dad’s won’t let his kids use a computer. They’re both older’n me, too.”

“Jo Beth doesn’t read well enough to handle e-mail. She’s just five.”

“Can we talk on the phone? I know it costs more, but we can take turns.” His eyes shone with hope as he shoved back a shock of hair with a still-wet hand.

“Yeah, Mama. I want Dean to call and tell me if Boxer’s well enough to go and act like a real bear. He said maybe we can come watch when they let him out of his cage to go live in the forest.”

Dean lowered his voice. “That won’t be for a while yet, Mrs. Stein. Dad and me hafta teach Boxer to forage for berries and roots, and how to fish in the river.”

“If it’s okay with your father, Dean, you can call me Marlee. Jo Beth’s grandmother is ‘Mrs. Stein.’” She laughed. “I used to be Lieutenant Stein, but I’m out of the navy now, so that no longer applies.”

“I think it’s cool that you and Mick both fly planes. I can’t wait to get old enough to learn. I wanna be a veterinarian who flies to ranches and takes care of animals. Oh, maybe Mick sent a book on planes. We were talking last time he was here about all the different kinds.”

“Dean,” a deep male voice said outside the bathroom door. “Quit talking their ears off. The gumbo’s getting cold. I expected you to wash and come straight back.”

Without looking guilty, the boy scooted from the room. “Dad, can I call Jo Beth one night a week so I can update her on Boxer? Marlee said it’s okay with her if it’s okay with you. Oh, and she said Jo Beth’s grandmother’s Mrs. Stein and she’s Marlee. Well, she used to be lieutenant, like Mick. Now she’s not.”

“Can you tell Dean’s glad to have someone to talk to?” Wylie said with a wry grin. “Let him know when your ears are blistered.”

Marlee just smiled. But as they ate, had it not been for Dean’s endless chatter, it would’ve been a quiet meal indeed. Marlee barely managed to extract one-word responses from her host.

“Ah, this is whitefish gumbo? I’ve only ever had it with shrimp or okra.”

Wylie passed around thick-cut slices of bread. “Uh-huh.”

Dean nattered on about the animals they currently had in their makeshift hospital. “Jo Beth, you didn’t see my gray squirrel, or the porcupine with the broken leg. I think they were asleep in their cages. Next time you come, maybe they’ll be out.”

“I really like this bread. Whole wheat with Parmesan cheese?” Marlee asked.

“Oat.” Wylie scooted the butter dish closer, again lowering his gaze to his bowl.

Marlee couldn’t fault the man’s manners. And he controlled his son’s swinging legs with a touch, accompanied by a look Marlee called, “parents’ evil eye.” Smiling, she spread a thin layer of butter on her bread. “There are so many personal touches in this cabin, it makes me think you’ve been a ranger for quite a while.”

“Sixteen years.”

“That long? I guess that answers the question as to whether you like your job.”

“Yep.”

In the background Marlee heard Jo Beth ramble on to Dean about her two favorite spots in their old hometown. SeaWorld and the San Diego Zoo. “Honey, quit talking and eat. We have to stop at Glenroe’s, and I’d like to make it home before dark.” Also, Marlee didn’t want her daughter telling strangers why they’d left a city the child chose to rhapsodize about.

Wylie pushed back his chair, went to the counter and returned with the remaining soup. “Seconds anyone?” He lifted the ladle.

Dean held out his bowl, but Marlee declined any for herself and Jo Beth. Although, if they’d found any common ground, she might have stayed. The gumbo was superb.

When Jo Beth slurped up her last spoonful, Marlee quickly snatched the girl’s bowl and stacked it with hers. Repeating the process with their bread plates, she then started to carry the lot to the sink.

“Leave the dishes,” Wylie ordered.

Startled by his tone, Marlee let the stack of dishes clatter back to the mat. “Well, then. I hate to eat and run, but…” She pointedly turned her watch around and studied it.

“Wait a minute,” Dean implored. “You said you’d give me the books Mick sent.”

“So I did. Tell you what, Dean. I have to run through a preflight check of the Arrow. If I’m ready to take off before you finish, I’ll send Jo Beth to the house with the books.” Marlee swung her daughter into her arms. “Much obliged for the lunch,” she said, tossing her casual thank-you at the back of Wylie Ames’s head of shiny black hair. Without further ado, she left the cabin as they’d entered, via the back door.

As Marlee started her check, she couldn’t recall ever enduring such an uncomfortable forty-five minutes. Not even in the most stressful days she’d spent with Rose Stein. Which said a lot.

“WOW, JO BETH AND HER MOM are really, really nice, don’t you think, Dad?” Dean gushed as he shoveled in the last of his second helping of gumbo, plainly anxious to run after the departing duo.

Wylie paused, a soup spoon halfway to his unsmiling lips. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he thought about this woman and her child.

Hell, who was he kidding? He found too much to like about Mick Callen’s twin sister. She had grit, and he admired that in a woman. She seemed to like Dean, which was more than could be said for the boy’s mother. Shirl had left him a mere babe in arms. He scowled. Marlee smelled—well, feminine. Sweet and sexy, the way a woman should smell.

“They’re okay,” he drawled reluctantly, letting as much time lapse as he dared. “Thing is, son, we don’t get deliveries often. Mrs. Stein didn’t say how long it’d take for Mick to recover. Soon as he’s well, he’ll fly our orders in again.”

“Dad! She said to call her Marlee. Mrs. Stein is Jo Beth’s grandmother.”

The mention of the girl’s grandparent suggested another question. Where was Mr. Stein? Junior, not the girl’s grandfather.

Divorced? Probably. Hadn’t Jo Beth rattled on and on about their life in San Diego? City folk. Even if Marlee Stein had once lived here, he knew how it was when women had a hankering for city living. Of course, he’d had other issues with Shirl than just her dislike of the backwoods. Like the fact that she’d lied to him.

“Dad…you aren’t paying attention. I finished my soup. Can I go and get the books Mick sent? One’s about bears, I bet.”

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you coming to say goodbye?” Dean had jumped up from the table, but he hovered half in, half out of the doorway, clearly expecting his father to follow.

Wylie’s first tendency was to tell Dean to run along. The more often he let the image of Marlee Stein burn into his brain, the more discontent would invade his jaded soul.

But he knew how excited Dean got watching planes land or take off. He couldn’t trust the kid to keep well away from the propeller. “I’m coming,” he said.

After Dean got his books and the pilot was strapped in for takeoff, Wylie hauled the boy far enough back to avoid the wind from the prop. Dean and Jo Beth began waving madly at each other. Wylie extracted his sunglasses from his shirt pocket and covered his eyes. He curbed the temptation to wave to Marlee. They hadn’t become fast friends as the kids had. Still, he stood at the end of the runway and watched her lift off much more smoothly than she’d landed.

He looked up and kept track of her slow circle. As her flight pattern brought her back over his head, Wylie noticed she dipped her wing the way Mick always did. His way of saying so long.

IN THE AIR, MARLEE COULDN’T resist making one last flyover of moody Wylie Ames. The guy didn’t even bend enough to acknowledge her leaving. He’d just covered his eyes with those damned mirrored shades and lazily hooked his thumbs in his trouser pockets as he stood immobile. The arrogant wide-legged stance served to warn any newcomer off this corner of the world. His corner of the world.

“Mama, I like Dean,” Jo Beth said into the mouthpiece, as Marlee had shown her to do before the trip. “Can I call him when we get home?”

Marlee’s lips twitched. She thrust the elder Ames out of her mind. “Listen, kid, you’re a little young to be running up a phone bill talking to a boyfriend.”

“Ma…ma! Dean’s my friend—friend is all.”

“I’m teasing. How about if I let you call him next week if his dad’s auxiliary motor doesn’t come in? If it does, I guess we’ll fly it up here.” She wouldn’t have expected the possibility of a return trip to the ranger’s cabin to bring a sense of excitement. But for whatever reason, it did.

“Oh, I hope the motor comes, Mama. We can stay for lunch again. And I’ll get to see Boxer Bear.” Jo Beth bounced excitedly.

Marlee dropped her sunglasses over her eyes to cloak her reaction to the memory of their recent lunch. “Don’t count on it, tiddledywink.” In spite of a definite sexual awareness the man had stoked in her, Marlee wouldn’t put it past Wylie Ames to garnish his gumbo with fish bones next time—if he knew that she and not Mick was slated to make his delivery.

CHAPTER THREE

GLENROE LODGE SAT in a pocket carved out of conifer trees. A single fire road led in and out of the site. Someone had constructed a runway that was little better than two grass tracks long enough to clear the trees on takeoff. Bush pilots loved the adventure and the challenge of taking off and landing in tricky conditions. Marlee wasn’t so far removed from hitting the deck of a carrier in a pitching sea that she enjoyed the thrill provided by Glenroe’s runway. But she was nevertheless pleased when she set the Piper Arrow down sweetly. If Ranger Wylie Ames had seen this, he wouldn’t have accused her of bouncing a plane around.

In the backcountry, a plane’s arrival was cause for excitement. Marlee barely had her door ajar when she saw the lodge owners on the porch. Guests rushed out of rustic cabins tucked almost out of sight deep in virgin timber.

Once she left her plane, Marlee lifted Jo Beth down, then pulled out the first box of Glenroe supplies. They’d ordered mostly dry groceries, such as bagged rice, beans and pasta, canned vegetables by the case and fifty-pound sacks of sugar and flour.

Unlike Wylie, Finn and Mary Glenroe let her carry the delivery to the lodge.

“Land sakes alive.” Mary elbowed her husband’s ribs. “It’s not Mick Callen bringing our order. If my old eyes don’t deceive me, it’s his twin come home. Marlee, what a pleasant surprise. When we saw the little girl run out from the plane, Finn and I were racking our brains trying to recall if we forgot to write down a family due to check in today.” Mary wrapped Marlee in a warm hug.

Marlee introduced Jo Beth, then hastily repeated the information she’d given Wylie about Mick’s latest bout of surgery.

It wasn’t until Finn Glenroe limped over to open the lodge door and pointed to where Marlee should stack the supplies that she remembered a tractor had overturned on Finn years ago and caused him to lose one leg.

Three dogs, ranging in size from large to miniature, rushed the opening and got tangled in Marlee’s feet.

“Mama, dogs!” Jo Beth squealed. “May I pet them?”

“Lord love you for asking so politely,” Mary chimed in. “Tinker Bell, the Chihuahua is skittish. Lola, our spaniel is the offspring of our old dog, Daisy. Your mama may remember Daisy. Lucifer is Finn’s bluetick hound.’ Bout all he’s good for is eating, sleeping and hunting.” The plump woman smiled at Jo Beth. “You sit yourself down yonder in one of the wicker chairs, those animals will gather round begging for attention.”

Jo Beth’s eyes grew big. “My grandmother said we couldn’t have pets while my daddy was sick. But Pappy Jack said he and Uncle Mick might get a dog. I hope they do.” The girl sat and, sure enough, the dogs bounded up to lick her.

Two of the guests—city-folk-turned-fishermen-for-a-week by the looks of them—offered to help Marlee carry supplies from the plane. She revised her thinking that Wylie had muscled her aside because he thought her puny. She’d forgotten in the real world, men assisted women. In the military, everyone pulled his or her own weight, and that’s what was expected. She let the men take some boxes, and thanked them.

“Marlee, have you two eaten lunch? I can easily scare up sandwiches.”

Marlee started to say they had to head home straight away, but Jo Beth piped up, “Me and Mama ate lunch with Dean Ames and his daddy. Dean’s got his very own bear.”

“A bear, you say? That doesn’t surprise me much.”

Marlee halted beside Mary. “I almost forgot. Ranger Ames sent back two pie tins. I put them in one of your supply boxes.”

The last of Glenroe’s guests, who’d plunked down a sack of flour, paused halfway down the steps. “Little lady, you’ll wanta take care flying into Ames’station. Heard tales floating around a year or so ago up along Kootenai River. Mary can fill you in. Fact is, a lone woman and a girl…you can’t be too careful.”

Marlee frowned as he whirled and trotted off in response to a call from his buddies who were gathered at the lake. Colorful fishing flies fluttered around the brim of the man’s floppy hat.

“Dave Modine, don’t be an old gossip.” Mary shook a finger at his scrawny back. “Sit a spell, Marlee. I have fresh cake and coffee. Catch me up on what all you’ve been up to since last you flew in here with Pappy. How is he? Mick said he has good days and so-so ones. Finn looks at Pap’s iffy health and says we’ve maybe got a couple good years left. Then we’ve gotta think about selling out and moving to town.”

“Gosh, Mary, you’ve had this place since before I was born.” Marlee stripped off the gloves she’d donned to better grip the bulky crates, and pulled out a wicker chair. “I take it neither of your boys plans to keep the lodge?”

“Nope, we sent them off to college where they met city girls. Matt’s an insurance broker in Spokane, Washington. Lewis teaches history in Bozeman. So does his wife.” As the woman spoke, she dashed in and out of the lodge, setting plates and cups on the glass-topped table sheltered from the afternoon wind by an ivy-draped trellis. “I’m surprised to see you back in Whitepine. Mick, now I understand.”

Marlee knew, of course, that she’d have to explain about Cole. She hadn’t expected that merely mentioning his death would be so difficult. After all, it’d been a year. And in her heart she’d guessed some six months before that, they were losing him. She lowered her voice and stumbled through minimal facts.

Mary listened, sad eyes cutting to where Jo Beth sat petting an oversize cat that had curled up on her lap. “I’m right sorry, Marlee. A woman your age shouldn’t have to lose her man when she’s still raising young’uns. How do you cope?”

“The navy chaplains do a fair job preparing personnel to accept loss.” Marlee patted the chair beside her, encouraging the older woman to sit. “Mary, when you scolded that fisherman, Dave, for gossiping, did you mean there’s no truth to the rumors concerning Wylie Ames?”

“Jo Beth, honey,” Mary called out. “Inside and down the hall is a place where you can wash up if you’d like a slice of chocolate cake. Would you like milk or juice?”

“Mama, may I have cake and milk?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Ms. Mary asked you, though. You can answer her directly.”

“Grandmother said I should always ask before I take anything to eat from a stranger.”

Marlee felt a twitch. Her mother-in-law had rules on top of rules. But this one made sense, and was one Marlee would have instituted if she had raised her daughter. “Thank you for checking with me first, Jo Beth. You don’t know Mary and Finn, but I’ve known them since I was little.”

“Then, yes, please.” The child carefully set the big gold cat onto the porch and slid out of her chair. Mary waited until the screen door closed to address Marlee’s question. “I’ll go on record straight away. I think Wylie’s gotten a bad rap. No one knows for sure what happened to his wife. He’s not much of a talker. But the kind of man who’d trek in here on snowshoes in the dead of winter, him carrying an infant son in a front pack, just to see how a couple of old folks are getting along, isn’t a man who’d mistreat a woman. I know him to be generous, honest and polite. Wylie’s raised his boy to be the same. And something else… those two rescue and treat injured animals. That doesn’t mesh with the rumors of foul play.”