Chapter 2

The group members wore varied expressions of irritation and sympathy. Their eyes widened as Jared arrived. The solid strength that had once made basemen blanch as he tore across a diamond at them was still present: he was a tall man, his shoulders broad, his chest deep from the physical labor of managing his refuge.

A chunky girl about five feet tall flailed about, arms swinging, face balled up and red. She was thick-bodied and solid; her screams set Jared’s teeth on edge.

Her mother looked up at Jared. “I’m sorry, she’s an exceptional child. She doesn’t understand why she can’t pet the cats. I thought she’d be all right. I’m sorry but…”

“I. Want. The. Kkkkiiittttiiieeessss!” The girl hit her mother and she was big enough to hurt, nearly chest-high to Jared.

His attitude smoothed from irritation to tempered sympathy as he saw the girl’s flattened face and inset eyes. Down syndrome. Her cheeks were wet with tears and she slammed her feet on the ground.

Tasha paced in her cage, her tail lashing against the chain link, dark as a dream.

“What’s her name?” Jared waved Peter and the group on.

“Sally,” her mother answered. “Sally, baby? Please, calm down, honey, please.”

Jared moved closer. One of Sally’s fists caught him in the neck; it stung. He grabbed her hands and kept them still. The girl squealed and Jared caught a whiff of her sweat. She puffed and strained against him. “Sally, listen, girl, the kitties are getting upset. Quiet now, you’re being too loud. Sally!”

The girl struggled on until Jared chuffed. The vocalization was throaty and deep—a chunky huff of air, powered on the exhale—and mimicked the way tigers greeted those they considered friends. He chuffed again, louder, pulling it from his belly and into her ear.

Sally went still and her dull eyes gazed into Jared’s, rapt. “Do that again!”

“I will if you promise to be quiet, okay?” Jared smiled.

Sally nodded and took Jared’s hand.

“I’m sorry. I thought that she’d be able to understand, but…” The mother’s voice trailed away in embarrassment.

“It’s all right, we’ve got it covered.” He moved them away from Tasha. The black leopard glared at them, green eyes cold, whiskers twitching. Tasha opened her mouth, revealing a broken incisor tooth.

Sally held up his left hand, showing her mother Jared’s truncated pinkie finger, gone just past his first knuckle. “Look, Mommy! Stubby pinkie. Stubby!”

“Yes, honey, I see that.” Her mother pulled Sally closer and eyed the cages.

The cats paced alongside them as they moved through the refuge, alert, aware that a crippled member of the herd moved in their midst. Jared saw dilated pupils and whiskers thrust forward from every cage.

The cats knew.

“I’m sorry for the trouble, we could have just walked back ourselves…”

“We don’t allow people to walk around unescorted, refuge policy.” Jared’s eyes focused on Sultan’s cage as they moved past the tiger habitat. “This is why we don’t allow kids younger than fourteen in here. Their voices are too high-pitched and they move like prey, quick and jerky. You and I see a cute kid, but the cats see—dinner.”

He Jared spotted Sultan, the seven-hundred-fifty-pound Siberian tiger, crouched in knee-high grass, a few yards back from his cage fencing, perfectly camouflaged by his brown and orange stripes. The grass shifted subtly and Jared knew the tiger was scuttling towards the girl. He wouldn’t rush the fence; tigers counted on camouflage and ambush to make their kills. Sultan’s head didn’t move but his golden eyes watched them walk past.

Jared doubted that Sally and her mother even saw the tiger.

At the gift shop, Jared tugged down a near-life-sized cougar doll for Sally, one of the more expensive items. The girl quieted as she kissed and petted the doll. It felt good to let go of his irritation with them; the mother was trying to do her best.

They moved outside into the balmy October sun and stood on the mulched walkway. Jared noticed Sally’s mother eyeing the weed-choked lily garden. The tiger specimen canna lilies leaned against the mismatched lattice of the porch; they were still in decent shape, but the smaller tiger day lilies at the front of the bed lay on the ground, trampled and dry. No one had watered them; Jared worried more about watering the cats. It was Juliana who had babied the plants and flowers when she had lived here—and now she was gone. Jared sighed and turned away from the flowers.

“Thank you, you’ve been very kind. And I’m sorry for the trouble.” Sally’s mother ruffled her daughter’s hair.

“You didn’t get the full tour, I’ll give you your money back,” Jared offered.