1
WOLF
Fucking. Spring break. College. Shitheads.
The rich kind that think the world is their playground, that they don’t need to bother with such things as research, the timing of hunting season, or which firearms are legal to carry in this region of the Northwest. Or the fine for disrupting wildlife habitats.
After finding the abandoned-but-demolished beaver dam, they weren’t hard to track to this clearing with their fancy little rental side-by-sides corralled in a circle so they can take what must be a much-needed party break. Stomping around in the river while kicking over beaver homes and pretending to fish must be exhausting after all.
My money is they had no clue it was abandoned and got lucky. Based on how they’re acting now—whooping it up, getting drunk, and shooting at whatever critter crosses their path—I’d say they were disappointed not to traumatize any animals.
This kind of thing pisses me off, but at the same time gives me great joy when I get to slap them with a hefty dose of reality.
I straighten my ball cap and put my aviators back in place. I speak into my radio, alerting dispatch to stand by in case I need backup, but it’s doubtful with these trust-fund twerps. Even if there are four of them, they have no idea what they’re about to deal with. After I sign off, I spin off the tree I was resting against and boldly stride in the direction of the offenders to crash their party.
“Afternoon, assholes,” I greet, casual but loud, and four heads lazily swivel my way with lackadaisical looks. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I dive right into questioning.
“What’s it to you?” The one in the grey T-shirt and backward, lopsided ball cap—seriously, has anyone ever taught him how to wear one?—challenges me. trying to look like a badass Abercrombie boy.
This is where running your own private firm comes in handy. No dress code—well, mostly—which gives me the advantage of having a nonthreatening first impression.
“What’s it to me?” I raise my eyebrows over the brim of my shades and reach into my back pocket, producing my badge. “See this badge?” I flip it open in one fluid motion. “Thismakesit my business to know what you underdeveloped, degenerate frat boys are doing to cause trouble on this land.”
“Shit,” says the dark-haired kid in the red plaid shirt as he tries to conceal his open beer.
“We’re just chillin’, blowing off some steam and shit,” another one mumbles.
“And you need to do that with illegal firearms?” I lift my eyebrows again.
“They’re not illegal— Ow!” Flannel boy tries to speak up but is cut off by Abercrombie backhanding him in the shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” he grumbles, rubbing the spot and scowling.
“So you’ve got permits then? Let’s see them.” Silence, something I didn’t think these little assholes could manage, falls over the clearing. Instead, I see a lot of jaws setting and eyes looking at the ground, and I can’t help but produce a cocky smile. “Looks like I’ll be meeting my citation quota.”
“Oh, come the fuck on!” Abercrombie hops down from the hood of his vehicle, his arms held out. “We’re just having a little fun. Do you really need to write us up for some stupid shit? Take the stick out…” His voice trails off in a petulant grumble.
I’m not a laugher, but I scoff out a cynical chuckle. “Stupid shit?”
He nods clumsily, looking like a serious mouth breather. “Seriously, we’re just having some beers and some laughs, maybe shot at a chipmunk or two.
“With illegal firearms that you have no permits for…” I start listing off the observable offenses. “I’m sure you don’t have a registered fishing license—yeah, I saw that too—and destruction of a natural wildlife habitat. Did none of you morons read any of the territorial guidelines before blowing in and playing Revenant?” I’m met with a round of dumb looks. “Yeah, I bet it didn’t even occur to you.”
This is the most I’ll talk in about a two-week period. Most human interactions unsettle me, but here, I’m in my element and it just comes naturally when ignorant assholes think they can do whatever they want on this land—myfucking sanctuary that I’ve sworn to protect.
“Now, I’ve witnessed enough violations to take all four of you in, I’m afraid.”
“Dude, call your dad!” The one with sandy brown hair and a green T-shirt looks nervous and nudges Abercrombie boy.
Abercrombie swallows and tries to smirk, but it’s as weak as his next choice of words. “No need for that, I don’t think.” He takes a few lazy strides my way. “Walker Texas Ranger here isalone against four of us. We can handle this one on our own.” His balls seem to inflate to the size of grapefruits as he hoists his weapon up, pointing it right at me.
I don’t stir, which makes a hint of a frown flash before he corrects it. Instead, I stare him down, even going so far as to paste a small smile on my face.
The look he gives me means only one thing: he’s grasping at straws, searching the back of his brain for anything else in his meager artillery. “Sir, I suggest you fuck off,” he says and tips his head sideways like he’s lining up his shot. Which only makes him look like more of a douche since only eight feet separate us. “Let my buddies and I continue to blow off steam, and you go off and write some parking tickets,” he continues, “or we’re going to have to explain how some dipshit park ranger ambushed us, and we reacted in self-defense.”
“Fuck me, are you ever an idiot,” I tell him.
He sets his jaw. “I’d be careful with your words there, Ranger Rick.”
“Why bother? You’re seriously stupid if you think you’ve got the upper hand here. Look at your buddies. They’re already checked out.” I gesture to his friends, who are falling behind and creeping back a few yards. They’re looking at each other with expressions ranging from irritated to just plain despondent. “And there’s one other thing you’re not taking into consideration,” I add.
