Page 19 of Capture the Moment
From the bank, a voice called out, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Zoo Girl.”
“He’s right,” another one said. “You’re asking for trouble. Your camera shouldn’t be that close to water.”
She glanced back, seeing the looks exchanged between photographers. Until now, she hadn’t noticed how many photographers were situated along the riverbank, and even more up on the road. All eyes were on her, watching with mixed expressions. Trying to appear unfazed, Kate pressed forward, intent on proving that she belonged to this wilderness as much as any seasoned photographer. Her confidence was intact.
However, nature had its own plans. A submerged branch caught her foot, and with a sudden jolt, Kate found herself tumbling into the water. She caught herself before going completely under, one arm instinctively holding her brand-new camera high in the air, but the splash echoed, punctuating the stillness. The wildlife sensed her presence. Birds took flight, otters vanished. A flock of geese darted far away, leaving ripples of discontent in their wake.
Laughter erupted from the spectators on the shore. “Great job scaring off the river otters, Zoo Girl,” one of them sneered. “Scaring off everything.”
“Yeah. We didn’t come here for your theatrics,” another added.
The gray-haired pigtailed woman had come out of nowhere. She stood on the road with her hands on her hips, glaring down at Kate. “I have spent the last hour up at the crook, trying to get photos of clouds reflected on the river, and in less than thirty seconds, you have created endless ripples of wake and disturbed every wild creature at Oxbow Bend.”
The worst thing of all was that pigtailed woman was right. Instead of settling down, the birds grew noisier. They circled overhead, their irritated squawks a chorus of disapproval, a symphony of disgruntled fowl.
Humiliation washed over Kate. Her confident demeanor had slipped away, replaced by an awkward vulnerability. Discomfort, too, as icy water drenched her clothes and dripped into her waders.
As Kate made her way toward the riverbank, fighting to keep her composure, she did her utmost to block out the accusatory glances and murmurs of disapproval from the seasoned photographers. “You don’t belong here,” she heard one of them say, with another loudly agreeing. A flush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks as she stammered out an apology.
“Cut her some slack.”
Kate looked up to see a ranger—thatranger, the handsome one, Coop—heading down the steep bank toward her.
“Ranger,” the gray-haired pigtailed woman said, pointing an accusatory finger in Kate’s direction, “that Zoo Girl disrupts everything! Birds, otters, geese, the whole show.”
Halfway down, Coop stopped. “She’s learning the ropes. Give her a break.”
“Learning the ropes? We’re here for serious shots, not a comedy act,” another photographer said. “Maybe you should go back to the zoo.”
Kate shot that photographer alook.
Coop noticed. He turned to that particular photographer. “Hey, everybody starts somewhere.”
As the photographers dispersed, still grumbling under their breaths, Coop turned his attention back to Kate. He took a few more steps down the bank to reach out a hand and help her onto the bank. “You okay?” he asked, his tone softened.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just embarrassed.” She frowned. “I do wish you hadn’t told them I was a zoo photographer. My nickname is now Zoo Girl.”
“Me?” A puzzled look came over him. “But I didn’t tell them.”
She eyed him. Was he telling her the truth? “You were the only one who knew. Who else could’ve told them?”
Coop’s eyes narrowed. “Must’ve been Frankie. My summer intern.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll survive.” She was shivering, and she could feel her heels starting to rub raw from the waders. “I’d better go change.” She started up the bank, then stopped and turned to Coop. “Thanks for not throwing me to the wolves back there.”
Coop grinned. “Wolves might have been less forgiving. Listen, don’t let them get to you. Wildlife photography is no walk in the park. You’ve just added a splash of unpredictability to it.”
“Very punny.” She strode up the bank, acutely aware of the sound of water sloshing inside her waders, her clothes dripping water as she walked. Aware that Coop was watching her.
A little smile tugged at her lips.
Wade peered out the window of the plane, his eyes fixed on the rugged landscape below as the aircraft descended toward the lone runway at Jackson Hole Airport. The sight of the granite peaks in the distance and the vast valley of sagebrush meadows stirred a sense of anticipation in him. “Where are you, bear?” he whispered under his breath. “I’m coming for you.”
As the plane taxied to the gate, Wade wasted no time in unbuckling his seat belt and reaching for his phone. With a quick flick, he powered it on and tapped out a message to Feldmann, letting him know he had safely arrived. The hunt was officially on, and Wade was anxious to get started.
He hadn’t met Tony Feldmann face-to-face yet, a fact that niggled at the back of his mind. He hoped it wasn’t a mistake. He trusted the man who had given a strong recommendation of Feldmann. He’d said that this guy knew how to scout and prepare a hunt. So far, everything checked out. The information they had exchanged, the plans they had laid out over countless calls and messages. Still, there was a small flicker of doubt—what if this was a misstep? What if he had underestimated the importance of meeting Feldmann in person before contracting him as the frontman for such a significant hunt?
This hunt was going to be the ultimate test of Wade’s skills and cunning. A fitting end to his career as an expert marksman. His masterpiece.
