Valerie Wilson turned left out of the refuge and cruised her little Ranger up to sixty on Morris Bridge Road, eastbound. She’d already packed up her few boxes of clothes and toiletries from the room she’d rented the last six weeks from a USF professor. She could head straight up to Gainesville, a few miles behind the moving van.
A wall of gray clouds roiled a few miles in front of her, the cold front with visible clout pushing rain ahead of it, sending leaves swirling through the air. The Ranger was small enough that she fought to keep it in its lane.
She passed cattle ranches and did a double-take on seeing a half-dozen bison grazing in one field. She sighed. This would be a hard drive home. Leaving a refuge always made her a little glum.
She hit the mini-mart at State Road 54 and grab
