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Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gunner standing stock still watching the scene. She didn’t know where Martin was, but she hoped he’d catch on to what was going on before he stumbled into the wrong spot. She was profoundly grateful that Craig wasn’t there.
Wynona took a deep breath and steadied herself. This part was all on her. She swung her path wide, knowing the toad’s vision was likely greater than 180 degrees. She turned her light off, depending on the fading light of the site lamp and the red light from Tucker. Then she was on her way toward the prize. Tucker hadn’t moved. Neither had Sundance. Knowing she was likely only going to get one shot at this, she silently gave herself a pep talk. She was glad the toad had chosen such a big tree; otherwise, she might slap her net against the trunk only to have the toad merrily hop out through the gap on either side.
She swung her net gracefully as if she’d done it every day of her life. The aluminum ring of net was less than an inch from the tree when the toad flinched, but then the net hit the tree, and the toad could hop all he wanted—there was nowhere for him to go. Not without a tracker, anyway.
Wynona let out a weird little yelp as Tucker gave Sundance a command that she didn’t understand. It sounded like German. He relaxed and trotted her way, his little stub of a tail wagging in joy. Tucker was coming her way too, grinning from ear to ear. She’d never seen him smile like that. “You did it!” he cried out.
It wasn’t lost on her that he’d given her the credit. “Can you hold the net?”
He nodded and took the handle from her.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out gloves and a tracking harness. Then she squatted beside the toad, who was now holding perfectly still. She put the gloves on and then slid one hand inside the net, careful not to make too big of a gap, and gently grasped the toad.
She pulled him out and held him in two hands. She looked up to see that Tucker, so eager to see the prize, was only inches away from her. And he was still wearing that goofy grin ... that goofygorgeousgrin. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy,” she whispered. She was trying to be funny, but her tone didn’t convey that. A little embarrassment mixed with her joy, she looked up into Tucker’s eyes to see if he thought she was a weirdo, and what she saw there was something very different than the weirdo vibe. He was staring at her likeshewas the prize, and she didn’t understand it, but she couldn’t make herself look away from him either. And then her lips moved closer to his, and he tilted his face down toward her, andoh nowas this really going to happen? Maybe it was, and she couldn’t stop it. Even weirder, she didn’twantto stop it, and then suddenly she could feel his lips on hers, feather light as if asking permission. They were warm, and they tickled, and she was just about to go all in when Martin said, “Do you need a tracking harness?”
She yanked back and looked to her left, toward the light. Both Gunner and Martin were looking at them, and she couldn’t see either of their faces.
She stepped back. “No,” she breathed. She had one dangling from her left index finger. She looked down at the toad and forced herself to focus on her job.
A voice in her head cried,What was that?but she bullied it into silence. Yeah, sure, she’d almost kissed the grumpy hunting guide over her prize toad, but she would process that later.
“What isthat?” Tucker cried, and for one ridiculous second, she thought he was referencing the kiss. Or the almost kiss, rather. Had that even counted as a kiss? They’d barely touched. No, she decided, it didn’t count. But then Tucker said, “It’s like a little froggie G-string,” and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“I like to call them toad britches,” Martin said. “They have a tiny tracker in them.”
Tucker stepped closer and peered down, bathing her hands in his red light. “That must be onetinytracker.”
Gunner approached. “I had no idea that toad speedos were a thing.”
They had to stop making her laugh. She needed to focus. Finally, she got the pants on over the toad’s butt. She looked at Martin. “Can you make sure it’s working?”
He checked the app on his phone. “I don’t have a good enough signal.”
She groaned. “All right. I guess we keep him till we can get down to the van and make sure the tracker is working.”
“You mean we’re just going to let him go?” Tucker said. “After all this?”
She nodded. “That’s the plan.”
“So what does this mean?” Tucker’s tone grew less congenial.
She looked at him, confused. “What do you mean? It means that the toad isn’t extinct! It means that we’ve succeeded! It means we get to study a species that has been a complete mystery for nearly a hundred years!”
“But what does it mean forhunting season?” he said levelly.
Oh. Yeah.That. “I don’t know yet. That’s up to the powers that be.”
Tucker sighed and tipped his head back. “I was so excited, but I guess we’ve only found one toad, and now we’re going to let him go.”
