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Oakley fought back tears as she saw her aunt Grace standing on the front steps of the big lodge. Beside her stood a man Oakley assumed was Clayton Blackstone. He was an attractive man of indeterminate age. He might be in his fifties or sixties, she couldn’t tell.
What she could tell was the love between he and Grace when they looked at one another. Clayton’s arm went around her for a one-armed hug, and she leaned into it for a moment. Then she turned her attention to Oakley as her SUV came to a stop.
Oakley hadn’t spent that much time around her aunt Grace. Her father was career Army, and once her mother died, she lived all over the world, wherever he was based. Oakley considered her childhood an excellent education in preparing her to deal with people of different cultures and beliefs, as well as teaching her how to stand on her own and be self-reliant.
She’d never admitted to Grace that she hated the time she spent on the reservation. Her mother was never happy, when her dad was home, all he and her mom did was argue, and the school never had books on topics that interested her. Heck, most of the kids could barely read.
As shamed as she was to admit it, when her dad had to take her with him, she had the best childhood ever, moving from one place to another with him, seeing more than just the United States. She lived in places all over the world. Each place taught her something new, and with each new experience, she became more self-reliant and more convinced about the decision she made when she was ten.
When she was old enough, she would join the Army like her dad. When she told him, he put his foot down and said she would attend college. Once she had a degree, if she wanted to enlist, he’d wish her well.
Oakley argued she could go to college later. It wasn’t until she was older, she realized that entering with a degree puts you on officer track. If she was like her dad and made it a career, that track would pay her more retirement.
It made sense, so that’s what she did. Being something of an overachiever, she finished high school at age fifteen, and before she was twenty, she had a degree in veterinary medicine. When asked why she chose that field, she said she liked animals better than people.
In many ways, she still did.
Grace hurried to her, and Oakley took note of how beautiful she still was. Her hair was as dark and shiny as a raven, her skin unblemished, unwrinkled, and glowing. And her eyes, those warm pools of warm chocolate that saw everything, yet shone with love. Enough to bring tears to Oakley’s eyes.
“Girl, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Grace said as she hugged Oakley.
That embrace was the first feel of homecoming she’d experienced since she arrived, and she held on tight for a few moments. “I’m so glad to see you, Grace. You have no idea how much I need to feel the company of family.”
“Then you’re in the right place,” Grace pulled back and swiped at her eyes, then gestured to Clayton.
He walked over and she made the introduction. “Clay, this is Oakley, my only niece, and decorated Majorin the United States Army. Honored Army Ranger and head of the Army K9 training division.”
“Retired,” Oakley added, “and it’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Blackstone. A lot of folks in Cotton Creek sing your praises, most prominently, Russell Walker and his brother the President.”
“The Walkers are good folks,” he replied. “And it’s my honor to meet you, Oakley. Thank you for your service. I hear you left the military to pursue your own business?”
“Well, initially, I agreed to head up a K9 training program at Sanctuary in Cotton Creek. But with one of the owners, and others deployed to the Middle East, that’s been put on hold.”
“Couldn’t you have waited to retire?” Grace asked. “You could have stayed where you were, couldn’t you?”
“I could, except for one thing,” Oakley walked around to the back of the SUV and opened the back hatch. “I needed to take care of these guys.”
“Wolf pups?” Clayton asked.
“Gray wolves,” Oakley confirmed, noticing that the pups weren’t concerned or triggered by Clayton and Grace. “Come say hello, guys.”
Both pups edged cautiously to the opening, sniffed offered hands, and then wiggled their rears and yipped. At only six months, they had to keep their heads lowered to keep from bumping the ceiling of the vehicle.
Grace smiled as one of them got closer and let the pup sniff her face. When it licked her across the face, she giggled. “They’re adorable. But Oakley, do you know the danger of—”
“I do. They’re wolves, and wolves are apex predators, and people are scared of them. But youknow they’re much more. Just look what they did for Yellowstone when they were reintroduced.”
“She’s right,” Clayton agreed. “And I’m interested in hearing your plans for these two. Why don’t we go to the house? Do you allow them inside?”
“I do. They're well behaved.”
“Then let’s go in.”
“Sure.” She turned to the pups. “Ba’Cho, Nashoba. To me.” She signed their names and instruction to jump down.
Both pups hopped out of the vehicle, sat, and looked at her expectantly.
“What sign language is that?” Clayton asked.
