Bayou Wolf. Debbie Herbert
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provided. Perfect opportunity to bail out of the heavy talk with Jillian.
“A walk sounds great,” he replied, trying to keep the relief out of his voice. “Later, Jillian.”
They beat a hasty exit out the back door. Heat slammed into every pore of his body, and he sighed. “Thanks, man. Although you didn’t have to mention the date part.”
Russell chuckled. “Thought I’d give her a little wake-up call. Been in that situation before. You want her to get the message, but at the same time you have to tread easy with her feelings or risk Matt’s wrath.”
“Like I didn’t know that,” he muttered. How the hell was he supposed to manage that?
Guilt twisted his gut. He’d never meant to encourage Jillian. He hadn’t discouraged her, either, if he was being honest. He’d hoped that one day his feelings would change, or that he’d want to settle down with an acceptable mate. Which was totally unfair to Jillian. A beautiful woman, and a shapeshifter like himself, shouldn’t have to wait for anyone. She deserved more.
Payton followed Russell across the cotton field. His friend was more familiar with the new place since Payton hadn’t had much time for exploring.
“This job is turning out to be a pain in the ass,” Russell said. “For such a small town, they’ve had lots of people show up protesting our work.”
Payton hid a grin. Tallulah had shown up that morning with almost a dozen people, peacefully protesting the tree clearing. And by peaceful, he didn’t mean pleasant. It was as if the momentary closeness of last night had never happened. Tallulah had been as abrasive as at their first meeting, frowning, snapping and making a general nuisance of herself at every opportunity. Work had slowed to a snail’s pace, and Matt had decided they might as well take off early. “They’ll get tired of protesting after a few days,” Matt had predicted.
Payton wasn’t so sure. The others might tire, but he guessed Tallulah was made of sterner stuff.
“Do you ever feel bad about the work we do? I mean, we do destroy the land.”
If he couldn’t talk about this with his best friend, who could he talk to?
Russell shrugged. “Nah. If we don’t do it, someone else will.”
That reasoning didn’t entirely soothe his conscience, even though he’d used that excuse as well. Plenty of wrongs had been committed throughout history with the same justification.
“What about vet school? You used to dream of being a veterinarian when we were in high school.”
“Idle dreams. I didn’t have the grades to cut it,” Russell said. “You know me.”
“Well enough to know that if you’d applied yourself to your studies, you’d have made it. Always were smart as hell.”
Unlike himself. The only thing he’d ever shown aptitude for was mechanical tinkering.
“You don’t have to work a skidder all your life.” Russell peered at him intently. “There’s room in the pack if you want to leave the lumber crew and try something you like better.”
Payton bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean? That I’m not needed?”
“Relax, dude. I’m saying there’s enough men in the timber crew that you can branch out on your own.”
Something of Payton’s reluctance must have shown on his face, and Russell shook his head. “I get it. You feel like you owe Matt and the others for taking you in. But you don’t. No one will think less of you for leaving the crew.”
“Maybe not you. Others might.”
Russell had been a true friend when Payton first entered the pack, one of the few to accept him unconditionally. His parents had died in a terrible boat accident when he was a teenager, and he’d been left alone in the world until the pack brought him in. Given his father’s murderous past, Payton would always be grateful that Matt took him under his wing, and for Russell’s immediate friendship.
“Doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks,” Russell insisted. “As long as Matt understands, that’s all that counts.”
“All right, already. I’ll consider it one day.”
They both knew it was a lie. Payton avoided anything that made it appear he’d deliberately distance himself from the pack. He would not be like his father.
As they hiked the small trail from the field and into the woods, Payton unwound, soothed by the unique beauty of the bayou. Thanks to the shade from a canopy of trees, the temperature cooled considerably.
“It’s way different than out west, but it’s pretty amazing here,” Payton commented. “Has a spooky feel with all that Spanish moss and those gnarled cypress trees.”
“It’s different, all right. Wait ’til you see what I found close by.”
Curious, Payton followed. A few twists and turns later, Russell stopped. “This is it.”
Feathers and ribbons hung from low-lying branches in about a twelve-foot-wide diameter that was bordered by seashells. The sandy soil was raked clean with precisely placed crystals sparkling in the ground like unearthed treasure. In the center was a pile of rocks and timber for a fire.
Payton stepped inside the circle, feeling as if he was violating sacred land. He touched a faded ribbon and inspected the hanging artifacts. “Dream catchers,” he said, remembering the miniature one Tallulah had worn.
“I know that,” Russell scoffed. “But what are they doing out here in the middle of the woods? It’s weird. And kinda creepy.”
Strange, yes. But the feel of the area was peaceful, if a bit melancholy.
“Beats me what the purpose of this place could be.”
He walked around the edge of the circle, examining the crystal grids and the dozens of hanging dream catchers. A bright red ribbon caught his eye. It had not yet faded like the others, and the turkey feather fastened beside the ribbon looked new. Payton held it, turning it in different directions. A small patch of beadwork on the back, only a couple of inches long, read For Bo, Love Always, Tallulah.
His breath caught. Who was Bo? His palm fisted over the beaded message. His Tallulah was in love. Jealousy, then shock, washed through him. Tallulah wasn’t his anything. He dropped his hand to his side and looked at the area with new eyes. Was this some lovers’ tryst, far from prying eyes? If so, why the secrecy? Why the elaborate decorations?
“Hey, found something,” Russell called. “Come here and check out this carving.”
Payton strode to where Russell stood by a massive oak, fingers tracing a primitive message—RIP Bohpoli.
Bohpoli—Bo?
Of course. This wasn’t a secret meeting place for lovers. It was a shrine to a dead lover.
“What’s a Bohpoli?” Russell asked.
“I suspect it’s a person’s name. That person must have died here. You know, like you see crosses by the side of roads, marking where loved ones died in a car accident.”
“Makes sense. But the survivors have gone a little over the top, don’t you think?”
Payton took in the meticulous care and attention, at the various states of decline in the dream catchers’ ribbons and feathers. Tallulah had loved long, and loved deeply. Underneath that prickly exterior was a highly sensitive woman. One that maddened and intrigued him all at once.
“Over the top?” Payton said, aware of a loneliness he didn’t know existed until that moment. “Maybe. But it would be damn nice to have someone love you like that.”
“Amen, brother. Amen.”
* * *
Annie served everyone salad and dinner began.