Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 140803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
“I got plenty of sleep. Come on, but you have to stay quiet and we have to stay downwind.”
She nodded and shoved her sketch pad into the pack on her back. Truthfully, she’d follow him anywhere. It was that scent he had on his skin. It was faint, but it was there. How had she missed it when she’d first stepped into the cabin? Every time she inhaled, she seemed to take him deeper into her lungs. That scent of red spruce, faint orangey citrus combined with leather and earth. He moved like he was part of the mountain, of the forest, of the land itself.
It was more than the scent on his skin. It was the way he could be so gentle when he touched her. He was alone with her, but he didn’t push himself on her. Walking behind him where he couldn’t see, she brought her fingertips up to her tingling lips. She couldn’t help wondering about what it would be like kissing him again. She had no idea what she’d do if he kissed her. Really kissed her again.
She tried not to stare or think too hard about him because a part of her was afraid he could read her mind. The longer she was alone in close proximity with him, the more she seemed to be attracted to him. She’d dreamt about him all night. About the kiss. The moment she thought about the kiss, her blood pounded through her veins. Hot. Inflamed. Like her face. It was the most annoying thing ever. She didn’t have these kinds of problems when she was by herself.
The first time she ever saw Rubin Campo, she remembered being so shocked at her reaction to him. She’d stared at him in awe when he walked out onto the podium to speak. The first few words he said, she didn’t even hear him—and then when she did, his voice was like the whisper of fingertips brushing over her skin. She actually got goose bumps. It didn’t make any sense. She was up in a balcony, completely alone, hidden in a corner, and she had been afraid she would light up like one of the fireflies dancing in the grass at sunset.
Jonquille followed Rubin a good distance from the cabin into much deeper forest until they came to a series of large trees, where he stopped and caught at her arm as he sank into a crouch. He indicated a very old oak that had toppled over several years earlier, the roots coming right out of the ground, leaving a large hole that curved back underneath the tree. Jonquille was silent, waiting for the wind and the sounds to tell her what Rubin wanted her to know.
Bobcat. A little female and her kits. They couldn’t be more than a few days old, nursing. How many? She stretched her senses, wishing she could see them. Four? No, five. Definitely newborns. She turned her head slowly and looked at Rubin, smiling. If he’d given her a diamond, she wouldn’t have liked it as well.
A female bobcat generally claimed a territory of about ten miles. In that territory she had her main den, usually a hole in the ground where she would have her babies, and then several auxiliary or shelter dens scattered throughout her territory. Those could be located near stumps or brush piles, anywhere in the less-traveled areas of her territory.
Like most of the predatory animals, the bobcats were hunted for their fur and driven out of their habitats when the areas were logged. Knowing a little female had established a den and had her kittens right there, a few miles from the cabin, was a testament to the fact that Rubin’s and Diego’s efforts at conservation and preserving their heritage were working. Having spent time in the mountains now, she recognized the beauty of their land and culture and wanted it saved as well.
They backed away slowly, careful not to make a sound. They didn’t want the mother to feel threatened in any way. The last thing they wanted her to do was abandon her den and try to take her kittens to another, perhaps putting them in danger from a predator.
Once they were far enough away from the den, patrolling in a loose and wide circle around the cabin, Jonquille admitted to herself and him that she was happy to have actually seen the little cat.
“I was fairly certain the cry I heard was from a bobcat, but actually seeing her with my own eyes made me much less worried. I don’t know what I was thinking—that a child was lost up here in the mountains? That would be silly, right?”
“No, of course not. It’s happened. Just because we don’t have close neighbors doesn’t mean a child can’t be lost. We have systematically bought up the neighboring properties when they’ve come up for sale in order to keep the land from being torn apart. That doesn’t mean children weren’t running loose playing or hunting at times. We certainly did. Also, more and more, we have backpackers who take the trail looking for places where few people go. Most are respectful of the land, but a few run wild. Some have children with them and don’t watch them. It’s good to check everything out, but always be on alert.”