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“Wow, thank you,” Sawyer says, clutching her box.
“Thank you, sir!” Avery echoes, before adding, “Uh, may we open them?”
“Certainly,” Dad says.
They flick the boxes open simultaneously. The sunlight splashes across their new bracelets, handmade wonders assembled with African turquoise beads.
The girls marvel over their elegant new gifts, wrapping them around their wrists and holding them up to the sunlight.
“They’re so pretty!” Sawyer says, turning around to show hers off to Grady, who came up behind us a minute ago. “Aren’t they, Dad?”
“Gorgeous.” He steps forward and holds out his hand to my father with a nod. “Dr. Macklin.”
“Peter to you, Grady,” Dad says while shaking his hand. “I’m glad to meet you, and incredibly grateful for all you’ve done. You’ve been a godsend to Willow’s big cats. Why, she even tells me you helped recover a stolen lion cub across international lines?”
“All in a day’s work, Peter. The Feds had a hand in tracking down the missing lion cub and extracting it from somewhere up in Canada. I helped a little, sifting through the data with my buddy, Faulk,” Grady replies with a smug but polite smile that makes me giggle.
Dad turns to me, the light shining off his wiry glasses. My heart melts a second time, just like it did when I first found out we were able to save Tilda’s cub against the odds.
“Well now, show me this tiger so we can get the introductions out of the way and settle in for a proper visit,” he says.
“Bruce is in the barn. We carefully modified it to hold him comfortably,” I say. “This way.”
I still can’t believe we’re doing this again.
But after the massive ruckus at Let’s Roar, Bruce had a hard time calming down. The first night, he’d broken out of the pen they’d put him in, and because Weston’s truck was still there thanks to our hospital checkups, Jacob Cook found Bruce lying beside the trailer the next morning.
He wouldn’t budge, giving off a loud warning growl any time Jacob and his people approached.
They had to sedate him just so they could get him penned up again, but once he escaped a second time, they found him on top of the stock trailer. Totally refusing to come down.
Jacob wasn’t willing to tranquilize him again or risk having a massive tiger-sized hole in a third enclosure, and I couldn’t blame him.
So, after Grady and his friends pulled every string they could with the state officials and local police, he’d returned to Dallas along with us. This time with a handy and very temporary exotic wildlife permit in my name from the state of North Dakota.
It turns out the devious happenings at Exotic Plains helped with the legal wrangling.
“The Fosses were using my name for so much crap,” I continue, explaining it all to my father, “including registrations. So legally, Bruce is mine. It’s my name on his papers, and Drake, a friend of Grady’s—of ours—was able to get me a temporary permit to keep Bruce here under close watch until I can find him a real home.”
“Rather nice setup, I must say. I’ve seen worse overseas.” Dad glances around the barn, making an impressed hrumph of approval as he makes his inspection. “This is a well-built structure. Solid and evidently storm proofed.”
Grady and I share a heavy, awkward look, trying not to burst out laughing.
But seriously, thank God the place got beefed up.
Nobody needs a second round of Tornado Bruce tearing through downtown Dallas or stalking the countryside.
With one last look, Dad gives me a warm smile. “Looks tiger proof to me. Wonderful job, you two.”
“It is,” I assure him. “Straight-line winds damaged the door one time a little while back, and we fixed it right up. He’ll be fine here for the time being.”
“You’re the expert, Peter. Glad you approve,” Grady says with a nod, then casts a longing look at me. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d better make sure my girls don’t try to sneak in here to show Bruce their new gifts...”
“Of course!” Dad gives back a knowing smile and looks at me, remembering how mischievous I could be at their age.
While Grady goes out to meet the girls, I step closer to Dad.
“How about you, Willow girl? Are you just as happy penned up in this little town as this orange gentleman?” He nods at Bruce, who’s dozing on his hay pile.
“More than fine, Dad. I’ve never—” I shrug, unsure how to say this. Then my heart skips a beat and I know. “Honestly? I’ve never been so happy. So at home. There’s something kinda magical about this place, as silly as it sounds for being in the middle of nowhere.”
“I believe you.” He kisses my forehead. “And if you’re happy, so am I.”
Nervous, because I’m not sure how he’ll react, I stumble over my next words. “So. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and, um...I’m not sure I want to continue on. With fieldwork, I mean.”
