“That’s a good idea.” The words came not from Hank but Peyton Samson, who came out of the back offices. “I heard you talking about the cameras, and I’d like to check on them too.” Peyton wore a black flannel jacket with her Alaska Fish and Game logo on it, her dark hair back in a tight ponytail. Half Native American, half Black, she just might be the most beautiful woman Echo had ever met. And she had the degree Echo had once longed for—a master’s in wildlife biology. Even if she had moved away for the better part of six years to study in Seattle, Echo still considered Peyton one of her close friends.

Peyton’s three-year grant to study the denning habits of wolves had sent her out into the bush with Echo as her guide.

“I’d like to check on the pack,” she said. “Sheila has probably delivered by now. I’d like to see how the betas are faring. I wonder if Neo has tried to come back.”

Neo was the loner they’d tracked for miles on the telemetry monitor the first year they’d set up the cameras. A rangy male wolf with a long silvery mane, he was older and tried to mate with Sheila.

Hugh, the alpha, had run him off.

“He’s too afraid of Hugh to mess with Sheila,” Echo said.

And with that, Dodge again stepped into her brain to haunt her. Sort of like what happened between him and Colt.

Because of her.

Unfortunately, she’d also lost Dodge.

“There’s a storm front headed this way in a couple days,” Hank said. “Maybe you should wait.”

“We’ll be fine,” Echo said. “We’ll head over to Ranger cabin 37 and stick around there if it gets bad. And we’ll take a long-range sat radio.”

“And register our route,” Peyton added. “C’mon, you know Echo is the best guide in the area. I’d pick her over the Bowie brothers any day.”

“Not if you want to catch decent salmon,” Echo said. “But if you want to grab a picture of a bald eagle or a herd of caribou or a nesting red fox, I’m your girl.”

“Your photos are amazing. Are you going to enter them in the Rowdy photo contest this year?”

Oh, that’s right. Along with the breakup dance, the festival was just a few weeks away.

“Maybe. I never know what to enter.”

“I hear the chamber is bringing in a country headliner this year. Some all-girl band from Minnesota—the Yankee Belles,” Peyton said.

“Oh, the guys will dig that. New blood for the breakup dance.” Echo walked over to the window again and looked out. The sun hung low, stretching long fingers across the muddy road.