“Hallelujah!” Anna said.
The package had come to the ranger station in Port Gibson, where she was stationed. Unable to wait, she’d ripped it open in the outer office and read it standing in the middle of the floor. Randy Thigpen, one of her field rangers with whom having a lady Yankee boss did not sit well, was at his desk. “What’d you get?” he demanded.
“The bear’s going to be okay.” Randy knew the story and Anna didn’t elaborate.
“Whoop-ti-doo,” he said.
Anna’s good cheer was undaunted. “And I got a present.” A small package wrapped in gold foil and marked “A souvenir of your trip. Love, Joan” had been stuffed into the bottom of the cardboard envelope. With childish impatience Anna tore it open. Inside was a glass vial filled with brown liquid and mosslike matter. “Balthazar” and the date were penned on the sticker pasted to the side.
“What is it?” Thigpen asked.
“Shit,” Anna said happily.
“I guess just everybody loves you,” Thigpen growled.
Joan had sent her a scat sample. After all, what were friends for?