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But Zach was an actor. A classical actor. He was good. He might have made it. Then again, A
A
"God, I miss you, Zach. It's beautiful here. But you'd've hated West Texas." A
The water for her coffee had all but boiled away. Refilling the pan, she started the morning over.
On her way into Carlsbad, A
"Hey, Ma
Ma
Harland let his glasses fall down around his neck on their strap. They weren't government issue. They were finely crafted, expensive, birding binoculars. Many things about Harland Roberts were a little classier than the run-of-the-mill. In his early fifties, he had Stewart Granger gray streaks at his temples and aquiline good looks.
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"I didn't recognize you with your hair down," Harland said as he leaned against her car and folded his arms.
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"It looks good," Harland said.
The compliment both pleased and made her feel self-conscious. "What's happening?" She jerked her chin to where Ma
"This is where the injured fawn was reported," Roberts said. "There's hair and blood on the barbed wire, but it looks like the little guy got himself untangled and crawled off somewhere. We've walked this area for a quarter of a mile in every direction but no luck."
"Maybe he's okay," A
"Let's hope so."
They stood a moment watching Ma
"I don't see how you can do it, Harland. I wouldn't have your job for all the tea in China," A
He looked at her, mild reproach in his eyes. "I don't like destroying an animal. But I'd rather that than have them suffer."
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"Yes."
"I figured. A bit too fine for government work. Do you hunt big game?"
"I used to," Harland answered and A
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"No luck. We'll go up again today. I called old Jerimiah D. and he said he will lend us his dogs."
"Jerimiah D.?"
"Paulsen," Harland said. "He keeps hunting dogs."
"I bet," A
"The animal will be salvaged for the display in the new Visitors Center," Harland said, overlooking her rudeness. "They can freeze-dry them so they look life-like now. They're going to use it in an educational display. Cori
A
"Wait." Harland laid a hand on her arm. "You didn't hear the big news." He was smiling, a boyish smile with a lot of charm. Making amends for her churlishness, it seemed. Letting her know there were no hard feelings.
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"We've got exotics on the West Side."
Resource Management spent countless hours and dollars eradicating exotic plant species that endangered native vegetation. "What?" A
"Worse than tamarisk," Harland said, a twinkle in his gray eyes. "Martians. Tell her, Ma
Ma
"Craig Eastern was camped over there a couple nights back working on his snake studies and he saw a UFO. A greenish halo that danced over the ground and made noise like cosmic footsteps. A putt-putt. Sort of a celestial Model T. Ma
"Craig is a strange man," A
Harland moved slightly so he was between her and Ma
Before A
As they climbed into his truck, Roberts looked back over his shoulder. "I like the hair, A
A
He had a talent for knocking her a little off balance. Talking with him she felt younger, more vulnerable, less sure of herself. Harland was of an age where men seldom looked at women as peers, co-workers. Always, however well concealed behind training or good ma
The damned thing of it was, A
"Not bloody likely!" A
Roberts had said Craig Eastern was crazy. Everybody said Eastern was crazy, but Harland meant it. "He's mentally ill." He'd used those words. And: "Take care of yourself."
A
Craig had been one of the most outspoken opponents of Drury's proposal to develop recreational vehicle sites in Dog Canyon. In a way, his very vehemence undermined his cause. His rhetoric was so heated that none of the brass wanted to align themselves with him.
"You're out alone a lot. Take care of yourself."
Did Harland Roberts think Craig was crazy enough to hurt somebody? To hurt her? Craig talked a lot about shooting visitors. But all naturalists talked about shooting visitors. It was a way of letting off steam.