Timberline Trail (4 page)

Tia nodded sympathetically and found herself more and more attracted to the man.
By the time Steve finished his meal the wind howled against the sturdy log sides of the cabin. Steve helped Tia wash the dinner dishes and returned to the front room. For the first time he noticed the lighted monitor.

“Are you a writer?” he asked.

“Of a sort,” said Tia shyly. “I’m a children’s novelist and have been working on a story located in Glacier Bay. In fact, I plan to head down there in a couple of weeks to begin researching the puffin.”

“The puffin,” said Steve
, crinkling his brow. “You mean the bird?”

“That’s right. If you’ve ever seen a puffin you r
ealize what a comical creature he is. I’ve selected him to be a special friend to my little hero in the novel. I’m hoping to get this book finished in about a month’s time to send to my publisher.”

“You mean to say you’re a
published
author,” verified Steve, looking astonished.

“You might say that; this will be my fourth book.”

“A writer of sorts, my eye,” protested Steve, wandering around the room and surveying the paintings of wildlife decorating the rough wooden walls. Tia quickly turned off the monitor as sudden modesty gripped her.

“This is one mighty fine book collection,” said Steve
, perusing the enormous bookcase facing the room. “Is there anything you
don’t
have?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have many books on fishing,” replied Tia
, and Steve laughed, the lines around his eyes crinkling attractively.

“Ah,
The Last of the Mohicans,”
he crooned, pulling out the volume and turning to the title page. “Who’s Paul Dale?” asked Steve, reading the inscription.

“M
y ex-fiancé. He knew I particularly liked the classics. He not only gave me the Cooper, but also the complete works of Doyle, as well as the poetry of Emily Dickinson. In a lot of ways he was really nice.”

“Was?”
asked Steve, turning to face her.

“Yes.
He had a fidelity problem as well.”

Steve instantly recognized she didn’t want to talk a
bout it and continued browsing the bookcase before moving over to the large double cabinet. “What’s in here?”

“Videos!
If you ever need a movie come to Tia’s video rental,” laughed Tia, hurrying to his side and opening the double cabinet doors.

“Wow,
The
Terminator
; that’s one of my favorites,” said Steve, pulling out the slip cover depicting a burly and menacing Arnold Schwarzenegger. “So you have electricity?”

“Not exactly,” smiled Tia.
“The cabin runs on a generator and as long as I keep the tank filled with propane this place is never without lights or warmth. Just in case though, I also have two wooden stoves, the fireplaces, and paraffin lamps. My father always told me that the weather here is highly unpredictable and insisted I shouldn’t depend too strongly on man-made things, so I always have a backup. I also have a rule that if Nancy doesn’t hear from me in three days, they should send someone out to check on me. Because I live in a remote area like this, there’s no telling what can happen because of the countless wild animals and freakish weather. Just this past July I couldn’t figure out why the lights in the kitchen and bedroom didn’t work until a friend of mine, who’s a handyman, showed me how the raccoons had gnawed through the wiring. One needs to be prepared for any eventuality.”

“That
is
the scout motto,” said Steve, smiling. “And one I didn’t adhere to myself as you can well see.” He was just about to pull out a science fiction movie when a loud thud reverberated through the room and both Tia and Steve jerked violently. The wind howled fiercely and whoever was outside had to pound on the door in a terrific manner just to be heard.

“Who could that be?” asked Tia
, startled.

“Maybe it’s my realtor,” muttered Steve
, and followed Tia as she quickly hurried to the front door. Tia slowly opened the door, enabling an icy blast of whirling snow to hit the pair as a tall, dark-haired man screamed for help. A large flashlight set on the ground beside him, and near him a still, dark form lay.

“Are you deaf
, woman; I said I need some help!” cried the man, and Tia roused herself. The prostrate figure was none other than an unconscious gray loafer wolf.

“Sugar!” screamed Tia, throwing
herself upon the injured animal.

Steve gasped in amazement.

“Where’d you find him?” Tia demanded, helping the shadowy man in the dark snow-encrusted parka pull the injured wolf inside. Steve and Tia managed to close the door against the wind as the animal lay on the floor bleeding slowly, crimson drops seeping onto the polished wooden floorboards.

“Get something to stop t
he bleeding,” demanded the dark-haired man, and Tia rushed into the kitchen to grab a green kitchen towel. The stranger pressed it against the wolf’s trembling leg. Steve edged away as the disheveled man glanced up from where he knelt upon the rag rug by the wolf, his boots forming muddy puddles upon the floorboards.

“Would you perhaps have some first aid su
pplies?”

“Ah,” mumbled Steve.
“I... I really don’t know. Tia, do you have something?”

“Of course,” she replied.
“Steve, help him carry the wolf to the fireplace where it’s warm. I’ll bring you the first aid kit.” The two men lifted the heavy wolf and placed him before the roaring fire. Steve noticed the canine teeth protruding over the wolf’s slack lips as they lowered the animal gently upon the rag rug. Even unconscious, the animal looked extremely ferocious. Tia quickly returned with the medical kit, and taking the cloth bent over the prone animal, trying to stop the seeping wound.

“Here, let me,” said the stranger. “You’ve got to press harder or you’re wasting your time.”
He grabbed the cloth from Tia and pressed it against Sugar’s leg.

“Do you have a name?” asked Steve coldly, i
mmediately disliking the abrupt manners of the stranger.

“Yeah, it’s Jon Simons
, and while driving home I noticed this animal upon the side of the road and pulled over. Upon glimpsing the lights of your cabin I knew it was the only chance the wolf had. I took a risk you’d have first aid supplies and be willing to help the creature. Most decent people would,” he stated abruptly, his tanned, work-roughened hands moving expertly over the wolf’s wounds.

“Oh Sugar, what happened to you?” moaned Tia
, working swiftly to patch up the injured leg before the wolf roused.

“The wolf’s name is Sugar?” asked Steve
, shaking his head in amazement. He’d retreated a good two yards away, settling down upon his haunches as he watched the two minister to the wounded creature.

“That’s what my father and I named him after we found him as a young pup over fifteen months ago.
His mother had died from blood loss after gnawing off her own leg when caught in an illegal bear trap on the other side of the hill. Sugar had escaped the trap, but his leg was broken and my father set it. Since the half-grown wolf wasn’t very mobile, I fed and nursed him through the worst, and I guess, probably domesticated him too much. I managed to reintroduce the loafer to the wild by the end of this summer. Sugar’s been hunting on his own but hasn’t joined a pack yet. He always checks the house out a couple times a day and sometimes at night I hear him howling outside the window. Guess he considers me part of his pack.” Tia stroked the gray wolf’s soft fur and glanced back at Steve who still appeared nervous.

She sought to reassure him.
“I believe Sugar is intelligent enough to recognize when you’re helping him. He never attacked or bit my father or me once the entire time we had him as a half-grown pup so I think you’re safe. What kind of wound is this?” demanded Tia, as she examined the gray wolf and the bloody torn wound at the spot where his right upper leg joined his torso.

“He’s been shot,” said Jon bluntly.

“I can’t believe people still shoot wolves on sight because of the unfair reputation they hold with many cattle ranchers down in the lower 48! Up here we know how important wolves are to the food chain and they remain one of the Alaska’s greatest treasures.”

Tia seemed
near tears and Jon spoke in a softer tone. “You’re right. It wasn’t until Adolf Murie began his long term study of the wolves near Mt. McKinley National Park that people began to understand how important wolves are.”

Tia glanced up in surprise at the dark green eyes of the man leaning across from her.
“I own that wonderful book; it’s called
The Wolves of Mt. McKinley
and must be at least fifty years old.”

“I’
m glad to see you’ve read it,” said Jon quietly. “I also use his
Field Guide to Animal Tracks
a great deal in my work. Anyway, Murie concluded there’s a delicate balance between predator and prey in this region and by preserving the wolf we help ensure the survival of all sorts of other Alaskan creatures such as the Dall sheep and Sitka black-tailed deer. Without the intervention of the wolf these animals would over-run the region and disrupt the balance of nature.”

Jon’s steady voice washed over her and Tia felt herself relaxing as she listened to his educated words.
She watched nervously as he applied the pressure bandage to the entry and exit wounds.

“T
he bullet passed clean through,” said Jon, pressing his dark fingers against the upper regions of the wolf’s right foreleg. “There doesn’t seem to be much tissue damage and I believe that with some rest your wolf will be one hundred percent in no time. May I use your knitted blanket over there?”

Tia leaped
to her feet and grabbed the dark red lap rug from the back of her recliner and spread it over the wolf. “Is there anything more we can do?”

Jon hesitated.
“While the bleeding seems to have stopped, I’m concerned Sugar will pull his wound apart when he awakens. We need to stitch up his wound.” Jon sat back upon the floor and crossed his legs Indian fashion. “I’m not sure I’m a good enough veterinarian to sew him up. Do either of you have any skills in that regard?” He first looked keenly at Steve, who shook his head vehemently.

“I’m into advertising, not doctoring,” he protes
ted, shrinking back.

Tia hesitated and finally heaved a long sigh.
“I might be able to do it since I’ve had a little experience with the injured and sick while volunteering in a hospice in LA. I suspect wax thread will prove strong enough as sutures. Our window of opportunity is limited however, since we need to pull this off is while the wolf’s still unconscious. One of you boil some water while I sterilize the needle.”

“I’ll get it,” said Steve
, glad to be of some use. Tia followed the blonde man across the room and as he set a kettle on to boil she rummaged through a side drawer and returned with a needle and thread.

“Do you have anything we might use as a muzzle just in case the wolf wakes up and decides to take a nip at us?” asked Jon
, observing the canine teeth drooping over the loafer’s lax jaw.

“The only thing I can think of would be shoe la
ces. I have some extras in the top left-hand drawer of the desk.”

Jon rose and searched through the desk
, finally retrieving two long black shoe strings. He crouched by the wolf, gently wrapping the cotton laces around the wolf’s muzzle and knotting them firmly. Steve returned with steaming water and a small bowl into which Tia dropped the needles. Using some tweezers to pluck them out after a few minutes, she was ready to begin.

“Alright,” she said between clenched teeth
, after threading the needle.

Tia bent over the wolf as Jon carefully removed the pressure bandage.
Steve and Jon held the animal firmly as Tia slowly and meticulously sewed up the jagged round bullet wound. Now and again the wolf’s muscles twitched against the needle’s relentless intrusions, but the canine never regained consciousness throughout the entire operation. After Tia finished with the first wound she knotted and cut the thread and proceeded to work on the second. Within a matter of minutes the wolf was sewn up, its wounds no longer seeping. Jon swabbed some alcohol upon the two wounds before wrapping loose bandages over the damaged areas.

“For all our sakes, I’d suggest we
move your pet to the entryway. If he wakes up in a strange place he might attack,” suggested Jon.

“That sounds reasonable,” answered Tia
, and helped Steve and Jon lug the unconscious wolf through the wide doorway, easing the loafer onto the thick entry rug covering the wooden floor.

Jon replaced the throw blanket over t
he wolf and double-checked the makeshift muzzle. The wolf could neither escape to the outdoors nor enter the main cabin.

“That’s all we can do now.
I’m afraid I don’t know your names.”

“O
h,” said Tia breathlessly. “I’m Tia Heath and this is Steve Newcastle. I’m so glad you came along when you did.”