“Jewel,” she said softly, “it’s me.”
No answer.
Charlie Grace eased the door open.
Jewel sat curled on the window seat, knees hugged to her chest, face blotchy from crying.
“They’re leaving,” her daughter whispered.
Charlie Grace walked over and sat beside her. “I know, baby. But they’re going where they belong. People who can help them learn to live in the wild again.”
Jewel’s voice cracked. “But they need me.”
Charlie Grace wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “They needed you to keep them safe until the right people could take over. And you did that, sweetie. You did an amazing job.”
Jewel didn’t move.
“The pups are downstairs,” Charlie Grace said gently. “Still in their crate. Would you come say goodbye?”
Jewel looked at her with a fresh rush of tears.
Charlie Grace smiled. “C’mon, puddin’. Come say goodbye.”
She stood and offered her hand. After a long pause, Jewel took it.
They walked down the stairs slowly, hand in hand. When they stepped out into the yard, the officers turned with warm expressions.
“Is this the young lady who found them?” Grant asked.
Jewel gave a shy nod, eyes fixed on the crate.
Officer Hernandez knelt and unfastened a pouch on her vest. “You know,” she said, “we’ve worked with a lot of people over the years, but not everyone has the heart and courage to do what you did.”
Jewel glanced up, surprised.
“You helped save six lives,” Hernandez added. “And that makes you something pretty special.”
She held out a small bronze pin shaped like a paw print with a star in the center. The engraving read Junior Wildlife Officer.
Jewel’s mouth parted as she reached out and took it with both hands.
“We don’t give these out often,” Grant added with a wink. “But we think you’ve more than earned it.”
Jewel’s face lit up. “I’m one of you now?”
“You sure are,” Hernandez said. “And if you ever want to come see how the pups are doing prior to when they’re turned out into the wild, we’ll make it happen.”
Charlie Grace watched as Jewel knelt beside the crate and whispered her goodbyes to each pup. There were no more tears—just a quiet sense of understanding. Of pride.
The officers eased the crate into the back of the waiting truck, their movements slow and respectful. Charlie Grace stood with her daughter beside her, the breeze lifting Jewel’s hair as she clutched the pin to her chest.
Yes—motherhood wasn’t for the faint of heart. It didn’t require grand gestures.
Sometimes, it was simply standing shoulder to shoulder with a little girl who was trying to be brave.
10
Reva squinted through the airplane window as the familiar outline of the Tetons came into view, jagged and proud, their snowy peaks lit by the early evening sun. As the plane dipped lower toward the Jackson Hole airport, a tightness wrapped around her ribs—part homesickness, part dread.
