Timberline Trail (8 page)

“Whatever you think is right. I’ll rouse Nancy on the short-wave and see if she has a weather update. She might also be able to relay if your friend tried to reach you.”

Banging came from
the kitchen as Steve washed the pans. “I think I’ll help Steve with the dishes while you call,” said Jon.

Three minutes
later, Nancy Leukowski’s clear voice filled the room. “There’s supposed to be a lull in the storm,” she shrilled, “but they say another storm will likely set in by mid-afternoon.”

“I have a couple of men staying here at the cabin with me
Nancy; the first you know about, the fellow called Steve Newcastle. He’ll try and head back into town if we can get his Kia running. If not, I’ll let you know. The other one’s named Jon Simons and he’s a wildlife photographer. His friend Ben Oswald may have tried to contact him. Have you heard anything?”

“No,” said
Nancy thoughtfully. “Neither your friend Jon’s name nor Ben Oswald rings a bell, but a man did check into the hotel before the snow storm yesterday. He indicated he was a friend of yours and asked directions to your cabin.”

“That’s strange,” said Tia.
“I wasn’t expecting anybody.”

“He spent last night here but
was all fired up to head out your way even though I told him the road was risky after a storm like we had last night. I gave him a map this morning and before I could suggest that Roy or someone else escort him out to your place, he took off for your cabin. The snow is still so deep, even though it’s melting rapidly, and I just know that dummy is gonna get caught in a snow drift so I sent my boy Tory after him on the snowmobile. He had some sort of a 4x4 truck he rented from Roy’s station.”

“Would you happen to know what his name is?” asked Tia, a strange feeling of déjà vu washing over her.

“Well, he rushed out of here so rapidly,” pondered Nancy, “and kept repeating he had some important information for you. Let me see, I think he said his name was Phil or something. Oh rats, Gerald checked him in and I just can’t remember. Let me check the register in the lobby if you’ll wait a moment.”

The line went dead as Tia waited impatiently.

“Here it is,” crackled Nancy. “He signed his name in the book; it’s Paul, not Phil... a Paul Dale.”

“Did you say Dale?
D-A-L-E?” Tia spelled. “Jeez, that’s my ex-fiancé!”

“This is becoming like grand central station.
Does he have curly brown hair and blue eyes? Built like a football player?” moaned Tia.

“Why yes, yes he was, and
wore this hideous bright red parka and big old sorrel boots even though it wasn’t that cold! He’s a mighty fine looking man if I do say so myself.”

“I can’t believe it,” murmured Tia under her breath.

“Anyway,” continued Nancy’s voice, intent on giving instructions. “You need to pack in extra wood and make sure your generator tank is topped up. The storm arriving this afternoon could be a doozie so I’m afraid we’re in for an early winter.”

“I’ll do that,” agreed Tia quietly, still stunned Paul was trying to make it to her cabin. But why
, she asked herself as she quickly signed off and replaced the receiver inside its cradle.

“Is everything ok
ay?” asked Jon from behind her. He stared intently at her.

“Yes, yes
, I’m just fine. Look, I’ve just been told there’s another storm moving in this afternoon and I need to visit the woodshed and pack in some more wood for the house as well as check on the generator to make sure the tank is topped up.”

“Do you want some help?” asked Steve
, coming up behind Jon.

“No, no, I’ll be fine. I don’t need anybody’s help.
Why don’t you guys straighten up the cabin or something and then pack up. You need to leave really soon if you’re going to make it into town and back to your camp before the next storm.” Tia didn’t care if she sounded rude and abrupt. She needed her two uninvited guests to leave before Paul arrived.

“I think Tia would appreciate some time to he
rself," said Jon quietly. “I’ll straighten up the bathroom and pack my gear. I’ll help you with your 4x4, Steve. Maybe it’s something as simple as a dead battery and I can give you a jump.”

Tia moved to the entryway, pu
lling on her snow boots and winter parka. Sugar thumped his tail, but made no effort to get up, obviously too warm and comfortable on the rag rug. Tia removed a small flat sled and the snow shovel from the huge cabinet before pulling on her thermal gloves and hurried outside. A short overhang built above the entryway door had sheltered the first five feet or so from the deep snow but after that the drifts were heavy.

Tia rapidly
dug a narrow path big enough for her and the sled. Glad for the exercise, she shoveled the short distance to the wood shed, her mind whirling. Too much had happened in the past 24 hours to be considered mere coincidence. Who were these two men now puttering around her cabin, really? Had chance landed them both on her doorstep or did they have an ulterior motive? The more Tia thought about it the more suspicious she became. It was the quiet, subtlety compelling Jon Simons who made her more nervous. The highly attractive Steve seemed more carefree and easygoing; possessing a light-hearted, playful nature. But Jon obviously harbored intense thoughts and emotions, evidenced by his tortured face of the previous night. Tia’d had enough of men and their radical mood changes and petty demands. Both had to leave and pronto!

N
ow Paul was set to arrive and for what possible reason? Why did he venture up here after all the unpleasantness between them? Tia thought she’d shut the door on that whole tawdry scene; on his lies and infidelities and stifling obsession with money and career. She’d had it with his whole meaningless lifestyle, realizing he’d used her influence with her father to climb up the business and social ladder. Paul was the chief reason she’d sought out this peaceful, isolated place. She’d needed to be rid of him as well as all those painful memories associated with her previous life. Tia shivered, not from the chill of Alaska, but from the coldness that had been LA.

Tia quickly checked out the generator
which appeared to be functioning normally, but she added more propane to the fuel tank just in case. She’d worked long hours the previous summer gathering wood, and Roy McPherson, who owned the local gas station and car repair shop, had helped her cut and stack over seven cords of wood which she hoped would last a couple of seasons.

Roy
, a heavyset man with a round homely face in his mid-thirties, sported a wide moustache which drooped over his constantly smiling mouth. He’d been married, but had lost both his wife and child during Amy’s struggle with childbirth over ten years ago. Roy had shyly asked Tia on a date this past spring and she’d attended a couple of movies with him at a local church during the warm season. Tia had gently told Roy she’d been severely burned in her last relationship and was a bit gun-shy of involving herself with anyone. The honest and earthy Roy stoically answered he was a very patient man and would just wait until she was ready. Since then Tia had found their relationship uncomfortable and was immensely relieved when the generator had been fully-serviced and all the wood cut and stacked for the winter.

She’d reluctantly agreed to a standing date with
Roy for lunch the next time she came into town and his wholesome homely face was one of the main reasons she’d avoided Timberline over the past few weeks, having Mary bring out her few basic supplies instead. It ran against her independent nature to have to adjust her schedule because of a man, and now two more disrupted her routine. Feeling angry and unsettled, Tia worked diligently, stacking the wood neatly upon the sled until it was heavy and full.

The temperature rising,
Tia unzipped the front of her parka. The path she’d dug was now slushy but the sled still glided easily over the half-melted snow. She’d scarcely opened the outer door when she heard a loud commotion in the house. Sugar stood shakily, his ears pricked upward as he strained toward the door, his hackles raised in a silvery ridge down his back.

The men’s loud quarrelsome voices filtered though the inner door and the wolf gave a low warning growl.
Tia calmed the nervous wolf and opened the door tentatively. The two men huddled by the oak filing cabinet near her desk. The middle drawer of the cabinet stood wide open as Steve shoved Jon back against the log wall with an angry hand.

“What on earth is happening here?” shouted Tia.

Steve gave Jon a final angry push against the wooden paneling. “He was going through your filing cabinet! After gathering up my things I turned round to find him messing with your stuff!”

Tia approached angrily.
“And just what right do you have to touch my things Jon?”

Jon studied Tia a long moment before answering blandly, “Well you know what they say madam, cur
iosity killed the cat.” He cast a menacing glance at the blonde advertiser.

“Well it’s certainly going to get you flung out on your proverbial ass! Just what were you looking for
, jerk?” spat Steve.

“Perhaps he was searching for some
profitable information on my father,” offered Tia heatedly.

Jon flinched
, though his face remained one hard line.

“Your father?
What about your father?” asked an obviously bewildered Steve.

“My father was involved in a criminal investig
ation regarding his partner, Andrew Carson, who was murdered last year. You wouldn’t be the first one snooping around here looking for my father, Jon! Well, you’re barking up the wrong tree Mister! My father’s taking a well-deserved vacation away from paparazzi like you.”

“Your father was a suspect in a murder?” asked Steve
, shocked.

“And
cleared of all wrongdoing,” said Tia vehemently. “But the exposure nearly killed him! He’s now taking an around-the-world trip to recuperate and left the running of the business to my Uncle Jeffery. Last time I heard he was working on his tan in Mauritius.”

“
Mauritius?” repeated Steve.

“It’s an island near
Madagascar,” said Jon patiently. “You need to know, Ms. Heath, that I wasn’t violating your privacy, no matter
what
Steve told you.”

“Whatever Mr. Simons!
I believe it’s about time the pair of you returned to your cars and camps. While I’d love to prolong this lively exchange, I’m expecting another
friend
to arrive this morning, so I’d appreciate if the two of you hit the road within the next fifteen minutes. I’ll walk you to your car Steve. Hopefully it will start this morning and if it doesn’t, I have some tools that may help. If it can’t be fixed I’m sure Jon will drive you into town.”

Jon’s face remained devoid of any emotion,
especially shame. The nerve of some people! Tia checked on the agitated wolf, furious at the gross violation of her privacy. She didn’t witness the murderous masks that settled down over both men’s faces as soon as her back was turned.

“Why I do believe we’
ve worn out our welcome, Mr. Simons,” said Steve venomously, grinning wickedly at the seething photographer who angrily set about collecting his gear.

Tia was so livid that as she shed her gloves and parka
, her jerky movements distressed the wolf who began to whine piteously. With sudden insight Tia opened the front door and the wolf trotted outside, limping badly, but appearing relatively stable. The wolf paused in the burrowed-out trail, and then with a great deal of effort climbed laboriously over the snow bank fronting each side of the path.

Sugar remained still for a moment, his glossy sides heaving at the top of the berm.
He cocked his head at Tia as if questioning her before slowly and painfully limping off.

Tia felt the wolf wasn’t healthy enough to wit
hstand the upcoming storm and fervently prayed the loafer would return in a few minutes after obeying the call of nature. Tia closed the outer door reluctantly, almost grateful to the wolf for taking her mind off her present concerns and anger. She carefully hung up her parka and tossed her Scandinavian-striped ski cap upon the top shelf, settling down to unlace her boots before remembering she’d promised to accompany Steve to his car. Tia re-laced her left boot, still seething inside. At least the two men had stopped arguing and except for the occasional thump of shifting backpacks, Tia heard no more conversation between the pair. She reached for a lighter jacket and returned to the big room. Jon had three bags slung over his shoulders, Steve obviously unwilling to help him with his heavy load. Steve clutched his small backpack and grinned ruefully at her.

“I’m sorry Tia. I’m sorry about everything.”

“It’s alright,” she said between clenched teeth, just wanting the two men to go away and leave her alone.

Both men must have sensed her mood because Jon grabbed his blue parka off the wooden peg and shrugged into it.
Steve donned his too-thin green jacket and followed the dark-haired photographer out of the snug warmth of the log cabin.