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thankful for the sunshine, the tasty bugs under the bark, and the water in the birdbath. The necessities of life and a few simple pleasures were all they needed or wanted.
    Ben envied them that. Over the last several weeks, his schedule had been nightmarish, without enough minutes in the day to get everything done. Sometimes he yearned for rest like a starving man did food. Unfortunately, a malevolent presence had invaded his forest, and the wounded animals continued to seek him out in an unending stream. He got at least one new patient a day, sometimes more.
    He had seven furry convalescents at the cave a mileand a quarter northwest of his land. Counting the quarter-mile walk to his property line, the twice-daily commute was three miles round trip. Normally Ben would have enjoyed the exercise. But he also had recovering creatures inside the house. Providing all the critters under his care with medical treatment kept him on the run from dawn until dark, leaving little time for his writing, which paid the household expenses and bought much-needed veterinary supplies.
    Ben could have reduced the travel time to and from the cave by riding his Arctic Cat, a four-wheel ATV that sailed over rough terrain, but he was afraid the noise and tire tracks might give away the cave’s location. He couldn’t take that chance. Whoever was wounding the animals stalked the surrounding hills practically every day. If the bastard found that cave, he wouldn’t hesitate to enter and open fire on the cages. At all costs, Ben had to protect his patients from further harm.
    A hummingbird buzzed Ben’s head. He ducked and then chuckled, amused by the tiny creature’s audacity. He stood six feet five inches tall in his stocking feet and weighed 243 pounds. Feathers and all, the hummingbird would tip a postal scale at about an ounce, yet the little bugger still dared to take him on. My fault, Ben decided. He never should have hung the nectar feeder so close to the steps where he liked to sit. Hummingbirds were territorial about their feeders, and a loitering human being posed a threat to their existence.
    One of the browsing bucks suddenly lifted its head to sniff the air. Preoccupied with the antics of the hummingbird, Ben might have ignored the deer’s odd behavior if it hadn’t snorted and tapped the earth with a sharp front hoof.
    Ben pushed up from the steps and cocked his headto listen. He heard nothing out of the ordinary. Turning back to the group of deer at the edge of the lawn, he saw a doe break off from enjoying its grain to stare at the west end of the house.
    Something was up. Not really alarmed because the deer seemed more inquisitive than frightened, Ben went to investigate. He’d taken only two steps when he heard a faint but shrill tooting sound.
    As he circled the west end of the house and stepped into the carport area, he glimpsed a small boy. Bold as polished brass, the kid was standing astride a bicycle out in the driveway. Sunlight glanced off his curly auburn hair, tipping the ends with glinting copper. He wore a blue Winnie-the-Pooh T-shirt, faded jeans mended at the knees, and scuffed white leather sneakers, one of which had come untied. Something about the child seemed vaguely familiar, but Ben couldn’t recall where he’d seen him.
    Every few seconds, the boy squeezed the rubber bulb of the bike horn. Ben had NO TRESPASSING signs posted all along his fence line at twenty-foot intervals. Nobody could accidentally wander onto his property—unless, of course, the interloper happened to be a little squirt who couldn’t read.
    On the rare occasion that intrepid souls ventured up to the house, Ben always ordered them off his land, sometimes cradling a shotgun in the crook of one arm to emphasize the point. This was just a kid, though. As Ben moved closer, he noted the child’s pallor, his feverish brown eyes, and the way his narrow chest heaved with exertion. Ben guessed he’d ridden his bike up the driveway, which was