Quinn by R.C. Ryan Page B

notice at all.
    When he arrived at the wolf den, he blinked and realized he’d ridden the entire distance without even being aware of his surroundings.
    With a great deal of effort he managed to put Cheyenne O’Brien and those tempting lips out of his mind and get back to the work at hand.
    The female wolf, caught in unfamiliar territory without her mate, would be forced to leave her newborns for short periods to hunt enough food to keep up her strength and thus nurse her young. She would be helped by the younger males that had remained as part of the family unit. Though not as competent in the hunt as the alpha male, they could keep the pack from starvation. The more dominant of these would, in time, assume a lead position within the pack.
    Quinn thought back to that female wolf of his childhood, hunting food for her young and returning to face a rancher’s rifle. It was an epic contest that would never end. Ranchers had a right to protect the safety of their herds. Wolves were natural predators and would always kill whatever necessary for their survival.
    Spying the remains of a fresh kill, Quinn felt a wave ofrelief. This hardy pack was surviving nicely. Once the weather cleared, they would return to their old den. He had no doubt that they would be welcoming a new leader shortly afterward.
    He felt a pang of heart-tugging sadness. The pack, which had been his focus for so long now, had suffered a serious loss and would be forever changed. But somehow, having found the evidence that they were moving forward, he knew that he had to do the same. It wouldn’t be easy to let go. He would have to accept the fact that within a matter of weeks this female and her young would welcome a strong, new male as leader of their pack and the life cycle would begin anew, with or without Quinn there to record their history. He would have to make a decision about whether to continue to follow this pack soon, if he intended to tag the new alpha male. Since Quinn knew where their permanent den was located, it wouldn’t be difficult to locate them after the snow melted.
    He heard the yip of a wolf pup and saw a small face rise up, watching him from the den.
    “Stay strong,” he whispered.
    He stood a minute longer, watching as a she-wolf lifted her head, caught sight of him, and quickly dispatched the youngster from sight.
    On the trek back to Cheyenne’s ranch, Quinn passed the spot where the male had been shot. There was no trace of the carcass. A fresh snowfall had completely obliterated the blood. The entire area had returned to a pristine wilderness, with no suggestion of the life-and-death drama that had occurred here.
    Quinn spent hours seeing to the dozens of familiar ranch chores at Cheyenne’s. Funny, he thought, that no matter the size of the ranch, or the location, the work wasalways the same. What with the demands of the animals, the upkeep of the buildings and equipment, and the whims of the fickle weather, ranchers never took a vacation. They worked from sunup to sundown and often all night, grabbing their rest when they could. And, he thought with a smile of satisfaction, they wouldn’t trade places with the wealthiest company president in the world.
    For all its demands, ranching satisfied some deep basic need in him. He loved being one with the herds that trusted him. And he liked nothing better than to pit his strength against Mother Nature.
    With the chores finished, he stepped into the stall for one more check on the calf and its mother. Despite the calf’s having been born in a blizzard and half-frozen immediately afterward, there was no sign of trauma now. Cow and calf stood contentedly as Quinn did a quick examination. Satisfied that mother and baby were progressing nicely, Quinn walked from the stall and stood a minute, watching the calf nurse.
    When Quinn turned away, he stepped out of the barn into a blinding snowstorm.
    The snow had risen at least a foot in the hours that he’d spent working in the barn.