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family with a decent living, their lives were their own business and not hers. Most of the time she figured out all she needed to know after a few minutes of dealing with them and had no desire to know any more.
    When she was within fifty yards of the clearing around the lodge, Callie ordered the wolves to stay put. Experienced at this routine, the four sat down to wait as Brutus followed Callie to the lodge. When the guests were mounted and the pack-string under way, they would shadow them, staying close by but out of sight.
    Callie emerged from the woods and came up to the lodge.   A string of four mules were being loaded with the guests’ gear by her brother Caleb and cousin Mike Dalton. Six horses stood saddled up and ready for the guests to ride.
    She lowered Red Wolf and Mountain Rose to the ground before dismounting. Dropping Chick’s reins over the long hitching rail, she gave the mare a treat before going over the rest of the stock. She spoke to each horse or mule in turn, petting and giving each a treat from her pocket. The twins followed along, copying their mother as they greeted and petted the horses and mules, calling each by name.
    Nancy Jo, her Uncle Dave’s wife, opened up the side door and stepped out to get a breath of fresh air. Wiping her hands on her apron, she smiled and greeted Callie. “I see you brought your young’uns. Your mama’s in the office. Have these kids et yet?” When Callie said they had, Nancy Jo nodded and then continued speaking with hardly a pause. “Looks like you got a real nice bunch of gentlemen this time around!” she said. “Couple of real handsome young fellers, too!”
    Callie avoided rolling her eyes. Aunt Nancy Jo was always trying to set her up with this man or that one, assuming that Callie must be absolutely miserable without a man in her life. Perky blonde cheerleader-types had always made her sick, even when they were kinfolk or kin-by-marriage. Callie laid on a Hollywood-style Southern accent as she replied drily, “ Do tell! How will I evah manage to do mah job while swooning over such delightful company?”
    Nancy Jo frowned. “Callie Michelle Hawken! That kind of sarcasm is why you’re still single at your age!”
    “I’m twenty-four, Aunt Nancy Jo,” Callie said. “That’s hardly old.”
    “And that disposition of yours could use some improvement. No man wants a woman who’s mean as a snake,” Aunt Nancy Jo chided.
    “Well, if you want the milk, the horns come with the heifer,” Callie shot back. “If a man can’t accept me as I am then the hell with him!”
    Nancy Jo gave Callie a sour look. The girl was darned near hopeless when it came to getting a man. Too ornery. Too mouthy. Too smart. The ones she didn’t scare off with her backwoods Indian attitude she ran off by talking about subjects ten miles over their heads. She couldn’t even flirt, for pity’s sake! Her plain brown hair was pulled back in that same old long braid. No make-up, not even a bit of lip gloss. And just look at the way she was dressed - faded blue jeans, a worn flannel shirt with an old blue-gray corduroy shirt over it, a pair of old hiking boots, and that beat-up old gray felt broad-brimmed hat. There was nothing there to attract a quality man, especially one of means. Maybe if she’d get her hair cut and styled, put some blonde highlights in it, and….
    Nancy Jo went through her mental catalogue of things Callie could do to improve herself. Wouldn’t do any good to tell the girl any of it, though. Might as well try to talk sense into a stone.
    Jim came out of the front door of the lodge, followed by their clients. Callie eyed them each in turn, gauging them. The first man she figured to be the Spaniard from his dark hair and eyes and olive complexion. Average height, fit frame, arrogant set to his mouth and eyes. Late thirties or early forties.
      The next man, the German, had graying brown hair and hazel eyes, ruddy complexion, tall and basically fit if a