Bayou Wolf. Debbie Herbert
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cooped inside too long made him feel caged and claustrophobic. The great outdoors lifted his spirits, even when it came to back-breaking work. Sitting in some cubicle in a monkey suit would be his idea of torture.
Payton expertly maneuvered the skidder, creating cleared trails on the new land they were harvesting for its wood. The twenty-three-ton machine bulldozed through the thick underbrush. Cautiously, he kept a watch for his pack members, all of whom worked with him in the same timber clearing crew. Most of them were on the ground, felling trees with chainsaws. Those unlucky bastards might have a few snake encounters in this swampy land. Not for the first time, Payton was glad to be ensconced in the cab. He’d take his chances on a rollover or a fallen log over a rattlesnake bite any day.
Their pack leader, Matt, served as the lumberjacking supervisor. He directed traffic around Payton, the other skidder operator, and the truck drivers parking their vehicles at the edge of the property.
Payton lifted the edge of his T-shirt and wiped the sweat off his face. Seven o’clock in the morning, and it was already hot as Hades. Adjusting to the Alabama weather would take some time. What would it be like two months from now in the heat of summer?
Sweat stung his eyes, and he blinked. What the hell was that in front of him?
A gorgeous, olive-skinned woman stood a mere ten feet from the skidder, hands on her hips and a fierce gleam in her dark eyes. He slammed on the brakes and waved his arms. “Get out of the way!”
She scowled more deeply but otherwise didn’t budge an inch from her entrenched position. Was she crazy? Suicidal, perhaps?
Payton shifted to Neutral, settled the brakes and lowered the skidder’s blade. “Gorgeous or not, she’s a damn nuisance of a woman,” he sputtered, unbuckling the seat belt and hopping to the ground. He strode in front of the machine, boots squishing in the wet, red-clay soil. “This is a logging site. You can’t be here.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is that so? Well, I am here, and I’m not moving.”
The heat, coupled with her defiance, stirred his temper. “Are you nuts? Move it, lady!”
She folded her hands across her chest. A beautiful chest, he couldn’t help noticing.
“No,” she said simply.
No? She had some kind of nerve. “What the hell do you mean? You trying to get yourself killed?”
“I’m trying to stop you from destroying our land.”
Confusion knit his brow. “Excuse me, are you the owner?”
“Not legally. But—”
So she was one of those conservation types. They’d dealt with them before. Payton slapped on a fake smile and tried a placating tone of voice. “Look, lady, uh...what’s your name?”
“Tallulah,” she replied grudgingly. “Tallulah Silver.”
He nodded. “Payton Rodgers. Now, unless you have a property title in hand, Miss Silver, you have no say in this matter.”
“All of Bayou La Siryna once belonged to my people, the Choctaw. I’m not moving.”
An uncharacteristic silence settled over the workplace. All the men had turned off their chain saws and regarded the intruder quizzically. A few were just plain getting an eyeful.
Payton had to admit the crazy woman was easy on the eyes—she was tall with lean muscles but all the right curves, long black hair and angular features. Her fierce don’t-mess-with-me attitude was a characteristic some men found to be a welcoming challenge. Not that he was one of them. Nope. Give him a woman with a soft voice and gentle, feminine manner. Someone that didn’t ask too many questions or make too many demands.
“Stay then. Suit yourself,” he said, bluffing, as he climbed back into the cab and gunned the engine. He thrust the gears and moved forward a couple of feet.
Damn it to hell. She stayed rooted to the spot and regarded him defiantly, a smirk flirting at the edge of her full lips.
Payton sighed and jumped back out of the skidder. Heat flushed up his neck as the pack watched his defeat. “What do you want me to do?” he asked her, throwing up his hands. “You really gonna stand there all day?”
“As long as it takes.”
Smart-ass woman. “You know you’re wasting your time. We’ll just work around you.”
A flicker of uncertainty lit her dark brown eyes, and he felt momentarily guilty. Payton wasn’t entirely unsympathetic to her cause. If anyone had the right to protest timber cutting, it was Native Americans. “We’re only harvesting the wood,” he explained, keeping his voice reasonable. “We’ll plant new trees when the job is finished.”
Tallulah lifted her chin. “I’ve seen what these crews do. You’ll clear valuable hardwood, and when you leave, you’ll replant only pine. Doing that destroys the wildlife habitat.”
“The company we work for replants the same ratio of tree species as what we clear.” This he could say with a clear conscience. He wouldn’t do this work otherwise.
Miss High-and-Mighty only sniffed. “Like I’d believe you. Even if that were true, you’re still disrupting our wildlife.”
Payton shifted his feet. Yeah, he wasn’t too wild about that, either. But if he didn’t do it, someone else would. This was the employment his pack had chosen. In many ways, the job was perfect. Work in a transient crew a few months, and then move on. That way, no one had time to really get to know you and discover your big, hairy secret. And when trouble brewed with neighboring packs, you could always cut out for greener pastures. If he had twinges of guilt, that was his problem. A small price to pay for the pack’s safety.
“Sorry you feel that way,” he said stiffly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t allowed to be here. It’s dangerous.”
“I have no fear of danger.”
Because she was daft. He tried to appeal to her sense of self-preservation. “You might get sliced with a chain saw or run over by heavy equipment. You see all of us in hard hats and goggles? There’s a reason for it.”
Tallulah shrugged.
Maybe an appeal to her dignity would do the trick. “Leave now, or the police will come out here and forcibly remove you,” he threatened.
She didn’t blink. “They can try.”
He caught movement in his peripheral vision as Matt strolled over. Great, she’d make him look like an idiot in front of his alpha.
“Is there a problem?” Matt asked in his wry, quiet way. He signaled the others to get back to work, and a loud buzzing returned to the scene.
“Yes. I’ve got a problem with you destroying these trees.” Tallulah tossed her mane of black hair and raised her voice over the whir of the chain saws. “Some of them have stood for decades.”
“They’re coming down,” Matt said firmly. “Unless you have a court order to stop us.”
She flushed. “I don’t. Not yet. This project sure was kept on the down-low. I didn’t know about it until I happened to drive past and heard the noise.”
“I suggest you protest this through the court system,” he murmured.
“By then, it will be too late,” she spat out. “All the trees will be cut.”
Matt didn’t respond, but his powerful, firm energy was like a force of nature. Being the alpha came naturally to him.
Tallulah turned her attention from Matt and shot Payton a daggered look with narrowed eyes. “I’ll be back,” she promised. “And I won’t be alone.”
Payton removed his hard hat and ran a hand through his hair. He nodded at Tallulah, but she’d turned away, her spine ramrod straight as she made long, purposeful strides