“I’m not sure anybody can control any of this stuff, Shel,” Matt replied. He sounded a little defensive. “People’ll try things if they think it’ll make money or maybe because they think it’ll be cool. My dad used t’ talk about the financial crisis of 2008—bankers and finance guys created a bunch of new ways t’ invest or manage money, made a fortune, and then it all blew up in their faces. A lot of people lost their homes and jobs. Lots of finger pointing, but the bad guys, if that’s what they were, managed t’ avoid jail for the most part. Is genetic engineerin any different? People try stuff if they think they can get away with it. You can’t change that.”

  “So we’re supposed to sit around and do nothing while some engineering guys screw up the environment?”

  “No, I’m not sayin that. I guess . . . don’t expect t’ change the way people are. But also I’d say if it’s that important t’ you, don’t let up on ’em either. Probably not the answer you want.”

  “Definitely not, but I get your drift,” she replied. “In some ways being here for the last three months has made me think about this stuff more. This place is way different than it must have been before people came, but you can still see glimpses of what it was like. In Boston, who knows what it looked like before people? There’s so many of them they’ve drowned out what was there before.”

  They had by this time crossed a wide flatland and reached the base of a forested hillside. Matt pulled up Daisy, and Shel stopped Spitfire next to her. “See that trail through the trees, goin up?”

  Shel saw a faint trail disappearing up the slope through the trees. “I guess.”

  “I’ll lead up the first time, then down. About five minutes each way. Then it’s your turn t’ lead, OK?”

  “You’re the boss.”

  “The horses won’t like it after a couple of times, so don’t let Spitfire there get ornery.”

  Shel sighed and wondered once again what she had gotten herself into. “Show me the way to the mountain top, master,” she said with a hint of sarcasm and Matt led them into the woods. It turned out to be not too difficult for Shel as Spitfire behaved himself and Matt took it slowly the first time. The second time Shel led, and he coached her from behind. After two more trips up and back, they took a break walking along the base of the hill for half a mile or so until Matt pointed out another trail. It turned out to be steeper than the first. She persevered, and they made it up and back with her leading both ways in about half an hour.

  “That’s enough for today,” Matt told her when they were back down. “Let’s head back and take it easy.”

  When they were almost back at the barn, walking along the ranch road, Shel asked, “Do you like the theater? I’ve got an extra ticket to a play at the university tonight if you’d like to come. The Importance of Being Earnest.”

  Matt looked at Shel with a smile and replied, “Yes, I’d like that.”

  **

  He was at her door that evening at seven, friendly but a little restrained—probably first date anxiety, she thought. After all, it’s a bit awkward dating a coworker, even if he is in a different department, so to speak. If we were dating. Which we aren’t.

  He asked if she would like him to drive.

  “No need,” she told him. “It’s less than a mile.” The evening was still warm so the walk was nice. The play was terrific. She hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time, and Matt appeared to enjoy it too. On the way back they stopped at a bar for a drink. The route back to her apartment went past his truck so she said her goodbyes there and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. She hoped he hadn’t seen her skin flush in the dark of the evening.

  **

  Sunday morning she made breakfast at home and packed a lunch for an outing she had prepped for all week. Following up on a project she had suggested to the High Plains Alliance, she and two other members were going to drive down south of Great Falls to the Lewis and Clark National Forest. The project’s goal was to investigate access to the forestlands and see what improvements they could work with the Forest Service to make.

  Shel had planned and mapped the trip. It would go along the ranch’s eastern and southeastern boundaries, where it bordered the forest in a few places. She was looking for access, even abandoned roads or just trails, into the ranch. She had the ant farm’s location, but satellite photos showed nothing. She knew there were access roads—people at the ranch had told her as much—but she figured whoever had managed to wipe the ant farm from the satellite photos had wiped the roads too. She wanted to find them.

  Shel hadn’t wanted her car to be tracked or photographed, so she’d asked an Alliance member named Bill to drive. She’d “forgotten” to bring her tab when she was picked up, but she had already shared all of her maps and other information, so the other Alliance member on their trip, Sharon, navigated and took notes. They turned off onto promising side roads from time to time to see if they crossed into the forest. At one point the county road they were on made a sharp easterly bend, and shortly afterward there was a wide, well-paved side road to the south.

  “Let’s give that one a try,” Shel said to Bill, who seemed surprised—it was on the wrong side to go into the forestlands. “The forest boundary turns west in a couple of miles and maybe this road goes that far.” He shrugged and made the turn. Shel saw a B.a. Ranch sign as they turned, but she kept it to herself. A mile down the road, they came to a stop at a large gate. In front of the gate the road widened to make room for large vehicles, even something as big as a tractor-trailer rig, to make a U-turn. The gate itself was tall, more than wide enough for large trucks, steel framed with mesh infill. Shel noted that it ran on a track with an electric motor. She started the camera in her sunglasses as soon as they came to the gate. There were lights on poles on both sides of the gate, a surveillance camera on one of the poles, and what appeared to be a card reader where a driver in a truck might stop to wait for the gate to be opened. From either end of the gate, high chain link fences led off into the trees.

  “Is there a missile silo here?” Sharon asked. It was a local joke made any time a person encountered what appeared to be a high-security fence or gate in the countryside. There had been hundreds and hundreds of silos across the Plains during the cold war and some number were still operational. It was just that nobody knew where they were.

  “Got me,” Shel replied. “There’s a phone number on the gate if you want to call and ask.” She made it sound like a joke, but the PAS logo was below the number. She silently exulted in knowing she had found the road to the ant farm. The other two agreed it wasn’t any sort of forest access, and Bill made a U-turn back to the county road to continue the day’s exploration.

  **

  When she got back to her apartment, Shel sat down to write her weekly report to Colin. She had sent him a message about the conversation at the Memorial Day party and meeting Jimmy Bell, but nothing of substance had occurred since then until today. She sent the previous bookkeeper’s password, which as far as she could tell had never been deleted, along with some of the data-system information she had only been able to determine this week. Then she made dinner.

  An hour later her tab beeped. It was a coded message that Colin was about to call on the secure tab. She went to the bathroom, removed the tab from under the towels, turned it on, and waited. Within a minute the call came through.

  “Put on the helmet,” Colin told her without any greeting. The helmet was hidden behind her extra toilet paper.

  “OK, Colin,” she said after she put on the privacy helmet. It felt like she had a padded bucket over her head. “I’ve got it on.”

  “Have you heard of Jimmy Bell’s ranch in Texas, the lion sanctuary?”

  “I remember something a year or two ago. It’s like a nonprofit that rehabilitates African lions and has a breeding program in conjunction with a bunch of zoos around the world.”

  “Right. I’ve just found out that PAS has some people there. Have you heard or seen anything at the ranch that might be connected?” Already his voice had risen almost to a shout. “This is absolutely top priority, Shel!”

  “Nothing, Colin. Everything is still a mystery here. I talked to Matt, the construction guy, yesterday and he doesn’t know anything. He’s actually hoping for improved cold-weather tolerance in horses so they do better in winter here, but everybody on the ranch is just guessing.”

  “Have you met the PAS guys that are studying the ants? Maybe they’d have an idea.”

  “No, I can’t even go there. If I was just to show up, I’d get the third degree from security, especially after my tab set off the firewalls.”

  “You’ve got to find a reason to go there and see. I need to know.”

  “Colin, I’d just get fired, and that won’t help anything. It’s not like they’re going to have Dr. Moreau’s lab down there. From what I’ve found out about the ants, the basic research was done somewhere else and all they did here was make the babies. The dark work isn’t here. All we’re going to see is the result.”

  “Maybe,” Colin replied, calming down. “It’s not that big of a place that they could do anything complicated.”

  “See, you know more about this than I do. I have no idea what the buildings are like down there. Get me a drone and I’ll see if I can fly it in from the county road.”

  “No way, Shel. Even if I did, they can’t see inside the buildings or the boxes being delivered. That’s why I need your information.”

  “Maybe you should bribe some truck drivers.” She was half serious. “Colin, if I find anything out, I’ll message you. Don’t worry.”

  “What about the data systems. Do you have access to the ant farm yet? Or any other AstroGene facilities?” he asked.

  “No. They’re all separate and I don’t know how to connect, if there’s even a way. Have your hackers go at it. If you have something concrete for me to try, I’ll do it.”

  From there the conversation turned to data system technicalities, the general gist of which was that Colin knew a fair amount about the ranch system but still couldn’t get in. When the conversation ended Shel got up off the toilet, put the tab and the helmet back in their separate hiding places, and went to the kitchen to pour herself the tall stiff drink that followed all her interactions with Colin.

  Chapter 8

  Matt’s Sunday morning routine involved reading the Sunday newsfeed at home in his prefab, generally in his pajamas (winter) or underwear (summer). He made coffee and breakfast at his own relaxed pace. If the summer mornings were warm enough he’d enjoy the sun on his east-facing deck. Once the newsfeed had served up the actual news, he’d go to sports. Today there was a long article about the Stanley Cup finals, which were tied three all. Baseball was still early in the season, so it was all talk with no major stories. Locally, the Voyagers of the Pioneer rookie league would be starting their season next week.

  He thought about the play last night. It had been pretty funny, but better was the couple of times he thought Shel was going to wet herself from laughing so hard. He’d never seen her let go like that. It was different, felt good. A lot of times it seemed like she was wound up tight inside, holding stuff in. Maybe that was just a big eastern city thing, the way they are. Or she’s just not all the way settled in here.

  He had picked her up at her apartment, nervous like a kid and too early. She wasn’t ready, but she let him in to cool his heels while she finished dressing, offered him a drink. No beer, just wine. She had looked really great in a sort of summery dress that seemed to flow around her and showed her figure off. He had worn his best jeans and shined his boots, but still he felt out of place. They had run into a couple of her friends from some club she belonged to, and she had introduced him as a friend, which he guessed was as good as he could ask for.

  It was noon, a nice day to be sure. He put on old jeans and a shirt, his weekend boots, made another cup of coffee, and went to throw some shoes. He had built a regulation forty-eight-foot pit out beyond the deck. Sundays were good for practice. Sometimes a few of the guys would come by and they would pitch and have a few beers, but it was early for that. He had a dozen shoes so he didn’t have to walk up and down so much. After he had thrown them the first time and was walking to the other end it occurred to him, almost like a bolt of inspiration that he could make a short pit, start Shel on that, and train her up to the full-size one.

  **

  In the past few weeks the ant farm work had been taking more and more of Matt’s time, and he was beginning to worry that the regular ranch summer projects were going to suffer. He and Eddy and Alan were spread pretty thin. Alan was a better finish guy, so he had been down at the owner’s house helping Marty Sanders with various issues for a few days. Eddy was working with one of the ranch hands on irrigation and well problems.

  He himself spent a lot of time with the contractors at the ant farm. He put in at least a few hours a day with the fence guys because that was a huge project with several large crews running simultaneously. He could tell already they were not going to make their August 15 deadline. Then there were people inside the ant farm building doing who knows what. Daniel, the project manager from PAS, didn’t seem all that much on the ball. He kept asking about this or that but wouldn’t let Matt into the building. He wanted more power, and Matt had to keep telling him that was Arlen’s area, not his.

  He had gotten to know one of the biologists who studied the ants because up to now the ranch had been maintaining the housing for the biologists, but the guy seemed to be as much in the dark as everyone else about the new project. It seemed that all three biologists were angry that the new project’s people had taken over their offices and booted them out of the main building.

  When Shel had said that genetic engineering was a dangerous and unpredictable game during their Saturday morning ride he couldn’t say she was wrong. The Bison antiquus project failure was proof that Jimmy Bell or PAS or whoever did the work didn’t get all the details right. But the ants were beautiful animals.

  Matt hoped the riding dates wouldn’t end anytime soon. Shel had the basic horsemanship, it came back to her quickly, and she’d picked up the rudiments of Western style well enough by now that all she really needed was time and experience with the ranch horses. He enjoyed their hour or two on Saturdays, and he thought she did too, despite her frequent questioning of the ant farm and what went on there.

  **

  During the following week Matt continued to be busy, but he made time to check the Voyagers’ schedule. He stopped in at the admin building Wednesday morning and found Shel alone at her desk with her coffee, her screens, and a few papers.

  “Mornin, Shel. How’s your day so far?” he asked as he entered. She looked up and smiled.

  “Just chasing bills and invoices around the data system, and looking out the window at the blue sky. Want to help?” she asked, flirtatiously he thought. “Got some important papers for me?” They both grinned, as that was the usual reason ranch supervisors came to see her—to drop off paperwork or ask where something was or why it hadn’t been delivered. “No? How about some coffee? It’s still fresh.”

  “Thanks, but no. I’m only here a minute on my way t’ that whirlwind of confusion down at the ant farm. About Saturday, I have t’ cancel on you in the mornin. Too much t’ do.” For the last two days he had been trying to rearrange his schedule, but the workload wouldn’t give. Shel looked disappointed. Before she could say anything in reply, he continued, “I’ve cleared my schedule for Saturday night, and I would like t’ take you t’ the baseball game, maybe a drink and a dance after. What do you say?” He smiled and tried to sound as upbeat as possible.

  “Wow! That would be so much fun. Thank you, yes.” She seemed surprised at the invitation and genuinely excited. “I’m already looking forward to it!” she said.

  “Good. I’m glad.” He felt a wave of warmth through his chest and a momentary lightness throughout his body. “See you later then. I figure your place at six thirty should do it. That OK?”

  “Sounds great,” she replied, almost bubbly. Then turned more serious, “Can I ask a question? Since we’re not having a lesson can I go out on my own? Last week you said I was doing well enough. I’ll stick to the ranch roads and tracks.” Matt thought for a moment, caught off guard because he had been so focused on asking her to the baseball game.

  “Sure, that’d be fine. I’ll talk t’ Dillon so Spitfire’s available in the mornin. He’s chipped, so you’ll be on the ranch geo system, but take a com radio with you too.”

  “You think Spitfire’s going to toss me in a barrow pit? He’d never do that, we’re buddies.”

  “Not at all. I was going t’ tell Dillon t’ shoot him full of tranqs before y’get there.” She stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed. “No, but it’s basic safety. Everyone out on the land, especially when they’re alone, carries one.” He narrowed his eyes and in a serious tone said, “It’s a rule.”

  “Fine, if it’s a rule. But I’ll be careful. My first solo!” She smiled. Matt bid her a cheerful goodbye and departed, his mood immeasurably improved.

  **

  Saturday evening, Matt, dressed in his best, including shined boots and fancy silver belt buckle, knocked on Shel’s door at almost exactly six thirty. Ronnie was with him. Matt saw the surprise in Shel’s expression when she opened the door.

  “Ronnie thought the ball game was such a good idea he wanted t’ come along. He called Jeanette, and we’ll meet her at the game,” was the first thing out of his mouth. Then he pulled himself together and told Shel, “Y’look fabulous. Ready t’ go?” She was dressed in sandals, shorts, and a tank top.

  “You bet,” she replied. As they walked out to Matt’s truck, she said, “You guys look like a couple of Saturday night troublemakers on the town. How’ve you been, Ronnie?”