Sheila nodded, feeling again the shock of the news. “Tad and Wendy were friends of mine when I lived here.”
The dark gaze snapped back to her. “Probably brought back memories for you.”
She spread her hands. How was she supposed to answer him? “The Hunt children are staying at the school?”
He gave his customary, curt single nod. “They’re still reeling from the blow, of course. Their clan would take them in, but the kids want to be here. So they’ll be staying at least until school is out. They’re living in one of the small old cottages at the edge of the campus.”
“Wasn’t it one of those cottages where Tad and Wendy died?” Sheila asked.
Doc nodded. “Johnny didn’t tear down all the buildings when he rebuilt the place. Unfortunately, it was one of the old shacks that burned.”
“What caused the fire?” Sheila asked. “I gathered Johnny didn’t know.”
“No idea yet.” He waved his hand around the living room. “What do you think? The apartments were the latest addition, built last summer.”
Sheila took the hint and allowed him to change the subject. She walked across a slate floor and reached out and touched the soft, plush love seat upholstered in shades of terra-cotta. The kitchen, separated from the living room by a breakfast bar, continued the desert decor.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “It looks as if Johnny called in a professional decorator.”
Doc cleared his throat. “That would be me.”
She looked at him in surprise. “No way.”
His eyes glinted with pride. “Cheap labor.”
“You did this?” She shook her head as she admired the taste and style, took in the modern kitchen appliances. “I’d never have dreamed it.”
“You didn’t know your tough old track coach had a touch of the artist in him, did you?” He walked into the kitchen and opened the window over the sink. “Since I stayed on through the summer last year, I had to do something to earn my keep between sessions with the track team.”
“How did the summer sessions pay off with the team?”
“Trophies in every category.”
“Congratulations. I know that isn’t unusual for you, though,” she said.
He nodded his acceptance of her approval. “Let’s bring in your things, and then I’ll get that tire taken care of for you.”
He strode out ahead of her toward the Jeep.
She hesitated, glancing around the apartment, then through the window out across the plain. The gap was breached. After an agonizing time of alternating dread and expectancy, she had arrived.
This was the last place on earth she wanted to be.
Canaan and Tanya were about a half mile from the turn to the school when Tanya gasped and reached across the seat to grab his sleeve.
“Canaan, look!”
She leaned forward, lips parted. She slapped her hand against the windshield in the direction of a white-and-blood-red mound of fur at the right side of the road ahead of them.
Canaan stepped on the brake. A dog.
Tanya grabbed his arm again, her short nails digging into his flesh as the van rolled to a stop.
“It’s Moonlight!” Her voice rose to a screeching crescendo. “It’s our Moonlight!” She clawed at the latch, scrambling to get out.
“Tanya, wait.” Canaan shoved the gearshift into Park and reached for the girl’s arm. “A wounded animal is dangerous.”
“She’s not hurt, she’s dead! Look at the blood.” Tanya’s face crumpled. She jerked away from Canaan and jumped out onto the pavement.
Before he could get out of the van, she’d reached the dog and dropped to her knees. Sobs shook her body. With dismay, Canaan recognized Moonlight, the white animal that had wandered onto the school grounds a week or so ago and been adopted by the children, who had attempted to keep it a secret from the adults—no pets were allowed on school property.
The big dog’s eyes stared, sightless. But she hadn’t been dead long; Canaan caught a whiff of the faint coppery odor of blood and saw that flies had not yet begun to gather.
He bent down, took Tanya by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. She whirled around and buried her face in his stomach.
“The wolf killed her, Canaan!” Her voice was muffled against his T-shirt. “He was jealous of her and he killed her.”
Canaan held her, feeling more and more uneasy at the way Tanya spoke about the wolf. “Moonlight has obviously been hit by a car, Tanya. You can see that.” And since he could see no black tire marks on the pavement, it looked as if whoever hit her didn’t even try to stop. In fact, it looked as if someone might have intentionally swerved onto the soft sand shoulder to reach the dog. Anger warmed Canaan’s face.
Tanya raised her head, her stare accusing. Sniffing hard, she stepped away from him, as if she resented his logic.
Canaan turned and followed her back to the van. He would have to break the news to the other children as soon as they reached the school. They would be as devastated as Tanya.
What a bad scene for Sheila to witness when she arrived here. Especially in light of the difficulties she’d had here just before she and her father moved away. Maybe the whole thing could be handled before she arrived.
“You should keep the wolf talk to yourself, Tanya,” he warned. “Others, especially the older people, won’t want to hear it.”
“But why not?”
“Because some of the old ways still linger. Our people don’t talk about the wolf to others, because they believe anyone could be the wolf.”
Tanya shot him a look of alarm.
He smiled. “I’m not trying to scare you, I’m just trying to let you know how others might react.”
“But you’re right, it could be anyone,” she whispered, her wide-eyed gaze aiming toward the school. “And I don’t know who.”
Chapter Five
S heila and Doc Cottonwood set her two suitcases in the bedroom just as the crunch of tires on gravel reached them from outside.
“That must be Canaan and Tanya now,” Doc said, leading the way back out the door. “Might as well start meeting the kids. Tanya’s probably going to be your first challenge.”
“Why is that?”
“She likes her way. She’s a drama queen. Her parents spoil her when they’re with her, and she’s good friends with the Hunt children, so she’s annoyingly emotional right now.”
In spite of the abrasiveness of his words, Sheila thought she picked up on some concern in his voice. “Is she having a lot of trouble with Tad and Wendy’s deaths?”
He nodded as he led the way back out of the apartment. “You’ll see what I mean when you meet her.”
Sheila took the sidewalk, curious about what Canaan York would look like all grown-up.
She recognized him immediately, of course. As a child, he’d been small for his age. Now, as he climbed from the van he’d parked beside her Jeep, he straightened to a height well over six feet, long and lean, dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt…and a green baseball cap.
He’d always worn a baseball cap.
His skin