Eating their fill—the alpha first, then the female, then the lowly dog—they suddenly turned simultaneously toward the camera and stared at it, as though the three pairs of canine eyes were trying to bridge the divide between themselves and those who watched.
Tonio reached over his brother’s shoulder and hit the transmit button. Slowly, he spoke into the microphone.
“Good dogs! Good Athena, good Zeus, good Mercury!”
The animals perked up their ears then responded in trio voice, their harmony a salute to their unseen benefactors.
Now it was mid-March, still cold and snowing as expected in the central highlands of Pennsylvania. Warm and comfortable inside the house, Galen had tuned his computer to WBJC on Internet radio, and the haunting tones of Borodin’s “In the Steppes of Asia” permeated his small room. A knock on the door snapped him out of his reverie.
It opened, and Edison and Nancy stood there, smiling.
“Come on, Grandpa, we just got us a litter of grandkids!” Edison laughed, as he took his friend’s arm, and the three hustled back to the monitor station. The children already were watching in front of the screen and listening to the faint yips of the newly arrived litter on the audio speaker.
“Good girl, Athena,” Carmelita whispered to herself.
Spring weather did not arrive until early May. The three adult canines guided the seven, newly weaned pups out into the forest. Schoolmarm Athena herded them, directing their attention to the actions of Zeus and Mercury during a hunt. They sat and watched in fascination as the younger dog flushed out the prey—a young, white-tailed fawn—into the path of the alpha, which seized its neck in his powerful jaws and administered the coup de grace.
After the pack had completed its meal, the adults again herded the littermates to the site of the camera and made them sit in a semicircle facing it. Tonio and Freddie took turns with the microphone, calling them all good dogs and laughing as the young pups’ ears pricked up at the boys’ voices.
Carmelita snatched the microphone away from her brothers and softly spoke the names of the adults. Their ears stiffened in apparent understanding. She began to sing a Cuban lullaby, long buried in her memory, and even the boys became quiet. As she finished, Athena began a soft moaning howl and a choir of ten erupted in doggy vocalization.
Freddie opened his mouth in an attempt to imitate the pack, when he felt his younger brother’s grip on his shoulder and heard his sibling’s whispered “Don’t!” He remained quiet.
Summer sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy of the forest, and time continued its growth work on both kids and pups. Carmelita, now fourteen, had reached that precarious age between childishness and self-awareness. Freddie, on the verge of thirteen, was all legs, and the feral look of incipient manhood had begun to lengthen his face. Even Tonio, soon to turn twelve, was more serious and focused. Meanwhile, the pups were engaging in the full activity of the hunt.
Nancy, Edison, and Galen were feeling the passage of time, too, but for them it was the encroachment of morning aches, difficulties with bowel regulation, and increasing awareness of entropy. They knew what awaited them at the end of life’s corridor, so they savored the warm breezes of summer even more.
“Tonio, look, the pack is reforming its social structure.”
Galen sat in the blind with his faithful shadow, though it had become unnecessary now. All the canines were aware of their presence, and they treated the two-legged ones as part of the pack posing no harm.
Amity or not, Galen was trying to avoid interfering in the wolf-dog social evolution. He kept his distance and insisted the children do the same.
“There, see that, boy? There’s already an alpha male in the litter.”
They watched, as one of the pups, under the vigilant eyes of Zeus, appeared to guide the others. But Galen was surprised to see something else happening as well. The young alpha, bigger than his littermates and easily able to beat them at games, selected two others to pair off with him: a lighter-weight, dark-grey male and a reddish-brown female. It was like a high school clique with the three calling the shots for the other four. This was not typical wolf behavior.
Even stranger was what happened next: The clique members approached the blind together, sat down, and stared at it. Tonio stood up, even as Galen tried to stop him, and stepped out of the shelter to face the three directly. He crouched down and looked into the three pairs of green eyes, softly whispering “good dogs” over and over.
The alpha pup stood up, cautiously approached the boy, and sniffed at him. Slowly the other two followed suit. Tonio remained still except for his continued whispering, until the trio turned and trotted back to the others. Only once did they turn and look back, when Galen stepped from the blind. They stared intently at him for a few seconds then walked away.
“That could have gotten you hurt, boy.”
Galen stared at Tonio intently.
“No, Tio, they’re my friends.”
Man and boy turned and began their ascent to the mountain house, side by side, bear and cub.
It was an apple-butter fall. The air was laden with the tart-sweet smell of multicolored leaves, their shades of red, yellow, and brown replacing the verdant greens of summer. Another school year was underway, and the children, the boys a little taller and all entering the emotionally wrenching teen years, were as busy as humanly possible with homework and school activities.
Edison and Nancy sat in the picture-windowed living room during their afternoon tea break. Edison took a long sip of his favorite Jasmine tea, now served hot to ward off the change in temperature. Nancy had been thinking quietly. When she spoke, her voice, gentle as always, eased her husband out of his own reverie.
“Bob, hunting season starts in two weeks. How are we going to protect the pack from all those Nimrods who think killing animals makes them manly?”
Edison savored his tea a moment longer before setting the cup on the side table.
“Galen and I have been talking about that. The ground is posted, but that won’t stop the clowns who think they’re Daniel Boone and have the right of passage anywhere. A few of them in town are just itching to come up here. They know it’s untouched territory, and they imagine it’s crawling with game. They keep asking permission to hunt. I keep telling them it’s out of our hands, that the property belongs to the Nature Conservancy trust, and that even I couldn’t hunt on it, God forbid I’d ever want to.”
Nancy smiled at her man. Instinctively she knew that the only time her Bob would consider hurting another living creature would be if she or the kids or Galen were threatened. But they had to do something—and soon.
Galen sat in the blind, dictating his observations of the wolf pack into a small digital recorder Edison had given him. He, too, worried about their safety.
“Will that be all, Mr. Caddler?”
The clerk handed him his change and stepped back from the wave of alcohol-laden breath emanating from the broken-blood-vesseled face that stared back across the counter.
“Ya sure ya put what I wanted in there?”
Caddler pointed at the box on the counter.
“Yes, sir, four boxes of double-ought-eight shells and two boxes of ammo for your rifle. Anything else?”
The weather-beaten man grunted, picked up the box, and walked out grinning to himself.
Got some unfinished business to settle. Ain’t no one keepin’ me offa huntin’ land. Been huntin’ there since I ‘as a boy. Let’s see what them damn city folks think ‘bout stoppin’ a load o’ buckshot!
School had let out early for a teacher workday, so when the bus dropped the kids off, instead of walking up the lane to the mountain house, as they normally would, the three ran to the blind to watch their canine friends. Only they didn’t stay inside the blind anymore—something they hadn’t told the elders. They had been accepted by the pack and could stand openly and marvel at how the young ones played at being adults, while the adults patiently watched and corrected only when a
pup grew too aggressive.
Today, Athena minded the pups alone.
“Zeus and Mercury must be out hunting prey,” Freddie said.
Carmelita winced at the word “prey.” Nancy had taught her that predators such as wolves played a necessary part in Nature’s cycle of life, but even so she didn’t like the idea. She tried not to think about it, as she watched Athena boxing a wayward pup now bigger than herself.
She’s so much like Tia Nancy—gentle yet firm .
Suddenly the quiet of the forest was shattered by the echo of double-barrel shotgun blasts, which startled both canines and children. The three elders up at the house also heard the shots, just when they were discussing how to keep the hunters at bay. Edison and Galen rose immediately and headed out the front door.
“Nancy,” Edison yelled back. “Call the state police. Tell them we have poachers on the mountain!”
He ran to catch up with Galen, who was moving like a locomotive toward the blind area.
The kids heard thrashing approaching them in the underbrush, and soon Zeus rushed into the small clearing in front of the den, closely followed by Mercury. Trailing them, still some distance away, was the sound of unsteady human feet, accompanied by an angry but barely discernable voice.
“Don’t remember this path. Damned rocks and branches! Ain’t no one been here. Better huntin’ fer me!”
He paused, staring through alcohol-clouded eyes.
“Wha’ the hell’s that? Don’ remember no damned cave!”
Carmelita moved to the pack and shooed them toward the den. The adult animals obeyed, herding their young ones inside then standing guard near the opening.
A few moments later the children saw the shotgun-carrying man enter the clearing, attempting to reload while moving—a dangerous practice.
“So this is where them goddamn varmints ‘a’ been hidin’. Well, they ain’t gonna hide no more!”
Caddler shouted at the two boys and girl standing a few yards from the den opening, “Get outta my way! I’m gonna shoot those sons o’ bitches!”
Finally reloaded, he snapped shut the twin barrels and had the gun pointed in the general direction of the kids just as Galen and Edison arrived.
“Caddler, didn’t I tell you that this is a no-hunting area?” Edison yelled.
As he turned to face Edison, Galen stepped in on his flank and served up a roundhouse right directly to the man’s jaw. He moaned and promptly collapsed, his shotgun falling away to the ground.
“Sergeant, why are we driving up here? It’s hunting season, for crying out loud. We gonna chase down every dumb sonofabitch who strays onto posted land?”
Pennsylvania State Police Sergeant Ben Castle looked at the younger man sitting in the passenger seat of the patrol car and let out a snort. He was what they called a newbie, fresh out of police academy, so he had been paired up with the experienced older man to learn what couldn’t be taught in a classroom.
God! This kid hardly has more than peach fuzz on his face!
“Douglass, every state cop, no matter where he or she is assigned…”
Castle mentally sighed at the thought that females actually were state troopers now—but some of them were damned good ones!
“Every cop should be acquainted with the neighborhood he—or she—patrols and the people in it. Sometimes the routine calls can be the most dangerous.”
Just as he spoke, he spotted Caddler’s old pickup truck parked by the road near the entrance to the lane up to the top of the mountain.
“Shoulda known,” Castle muttered.
Just then the radio squawked out, “Sixteen-oh-eight, sixteen-oh-eight.”
Ben grabbed the microphone.
“Central, sixteen-oh-eight. Go ahead.”
“We have a ten-fifty-seven, vicinity of Mountain Vista Lane. See Mrs. Edison.”
“Central, sixteen-oh-eight, approaching scene,” Ben replied and gunned the big Ford’s motor as they shot up the driveway.
“What’s the story, Sarge?”
Douglass was fully alert now—nervous even.
Castle kept his eyes on the winding road, as they approached the summit.
“Here’s a classic example, Lachlan.”
The younger man relaxed at his superior’s use of his first name.
“See, down at the bottom of the road I spotted Lem Caddler’s truck. He’s a born troublemaker and a drunk to boot. Gets mean when he’s had a few. Now, some pretty good people live up here, three retired folks, a doctor and an electronics guru and his wife who’s big on Red Cross work. Got three adopted children, too.”
“So, Private Lachlan Douglass, you understand now why Caddler’s truck at the bottom of their driveway spells trouble? Add to that the gunshots report and we’re maybe walking into a real problem!”
The younger man nodded sheepishly, as they slid to a stop in front of the house. Nancy ran out to meet them.
Galen’s face was flushed with anger. He stood over the man he had flattened, who still lay spread-eagled on the ground.
“This is protected property, Caddler,” Edison said. “No hunting allowed. It never will be on this mountain!”
“Remember that the next time you get drunk,” Galen added. “This is a safe haven for animals.”
Before the man could mutter a response, Nancy appeared in the clearing leading the two state troopers. They promptly stood Caddler upright, searched and handcuffed him, read him his rights, and led him back to the car.
The three children remained silent, stunned by the suddenness and violence of the event.When the troopers and their prisoner disappeared from sight, Zeus poked his head out of the den and crept toward the three adults, followed by Mercury and Athena. The canines faced the humans. Zeus stepped up to Galen and licked his hand. Mercury followed suit with Edison. Athena, wild by birth, hesitated at first then approached Nancy and rested her head against the woman.
Then the young dog-wolves ventured out and, seeing their elders with the adults, ran toward the children, who took turns stroking their heads and muzzles.
“I think that’s enough excitement for one day,” Galen quipped, and Edison and Nancy let out sighs of relief in agreement.
Freddie was rolling on the ground, rough-housing with one of the pups, when he sat up suddenly and yelled, “Yeah, I guess it’s old man Caddler who’s in the dog house now!”
The others laughed at the attempted pun, and the wolf-dogs yipped and barked even louder.
“Carmelita, would you hand me the serving tray?”
Nancy had just taken a fresh batch of brownies from the oven, and the aroma was beginning to circulate through the house. She knew everyone would soon be gravitating to the living room for their share of the treats. Carmelita retrieved the tray from its place leaning on the countertop against the refrigerator.
“Tia Nancy, do you think the wolves really understand what we did? They seem so tame, so attached to us now.”
Nancy stacked the brownies on the tray and glanced at Carmelita.
Is this how my daughter would have been?
“I don’t know for sure, Carmelita, but the adult animals seem to have bonded with us. Only time will tell if the next generation follows their lead.”
The weather turned mountain-cold again. Gusts of the north wind swept the remaining leaves from their branches, presaging the first snow of the season. Galen’s arthritic right knee, which had been worsening since the summer, drove him to spend more time in the living room in front of the fireplace. Books and diagrams and photos crowded the coffee table, where he went over and over his notes about the wolf pack. The social structure fit no known pattern of prior observations by researchers in the field. Zeus, the alpha, was actually teaching his heir apparent. Mercury and Athena were instructing the younger grey male and red-brown female. It seemed like an ordained succession was being established, but it would take another wolf generation or two to see if the pattern held true.
Galen looked up as Tonio entered the
room and peered over his shoulder at the pages of graphs and notes in his lap.
“What’s this about, Tio?”
Galen motioned him to sit, and he explained his conclusions to his eager protégé.
“Tio Eddie, can I come in?”
Freddie had heard the cutting and grinding noises coming from Edison’s wood shop.
“Sure, Freddie. Here, take a look at this.”
“What is it, Tio?”
“It’s a gift, a gift for the mountain. Something Tio Galen said to Mr. Caddler that day struck me as appropriate. Think the old goat will like it?”
He held up a three-foot-long wooden sign. On it, in large letters deeply engraved into the heavy solid oak wood, he had fashioned one word: SAFEHAVEN.
They sat on their haunches, facing the house in the distance and the two-legged pack inside it that was of them and not of them. Their eyes reflected the amber, winter-solstice moonlight in luminescent green.
The three in front kept ears and muzzles on full alert. The alpha male, a full one-hundred pounds, let out a solitary howl of unwavering tone. The male next to him, not as large but sleeker and more streamlined, joined in, their canine bodies taking in large gasping breaths to produce the contrapuntal vibrations of their vocal chords. The female, smaller but even more alert, added the second harmonic. The younger members of the pack sat in quiet respect, observing the ways that would govern their future lives and those of their pups.
They were the Moonsingers of the mountain.
CHAPTER 3
Choices
He closed his eyes, feeling the music, feeling the flow of mind to hand, as his fingers spread over the cracked and yellowed ivory keys.
He was small for his age, wiry with the black hair and piercing brown eyes of countless generations of nomadic tribes. Olive-brown skin delineated a nose carried forward from some long-dead European Crusader seeking solace from the distant memories of his home country. And, maybe, the genes of that ancient warrior conveyed the message of something else.
The Legend of Safehaven Page 4