“So, you’re up. I was just about to wake you. Sugar awoke at six a.m., and I let him out. He’s returned now and is lying on the floor of your tent gnawing on a frozen T-bone steak. His wound looks fine but when I tried to touch the bandage he tried to snap my hand off.”
“I’m so glad,” explained Tia. “Not about your hand I mean, but the wolf.” She grabbed her Scandinavian ski cap and shoving it over her head, thrust her hands into the heavy-duty mittens.
“I’m not sure the wood is going to be dry enough since it was out in the open,” drifted Jon’s voice. “I’ll try to start the fire for warmth, but I’ve already made hot coffee on the Coleman stove outside your tent.”
Standing upon the elevated planks, Tia glimpsed Sugar through the nylon mesh lying on the heavy quilt. The loafer’s tail thumped in recognition before he returned greedily to the large T-bone. Tia poured a brimming cup of coffee and added a spoonful of sugar. However, when she tried to pour the milk nothing flowed from the silver canister. Flipping the lid upward, she saw the milk was frozen solid. Jon halted at the foot of the low porch.
“No luck?” he asked.
“It’s perfectly frozen.” She placed the silver mug on the burner to enable the milk to thaw.
“I’ve only got powdered eggs and sausage, so it’ll have to do.”
Tia’s lips twitched. Jon’s abrupt manner didn’t faze her a bit after last night. Besides, she’d seen him smile and was content to wait until he showered her with another delightful grin.
“What’s so funny?” he asked coarsely.
“You have such a lovely smile,” she said mildly.
“And don’t use it enough? Sometimes a bit rough on the edges? A bit too forward when I finally do speak? Maybe I could practice using a little more tact? You sound just like my sister.”
“I’m so glad.”
His eyes warmed, scanning her oversized outfit and bright Scandinavian cap. “I’m... um... sorry about last night.”
“Well I’m not.”
Jon glanced away, clearly startled by her answer. “You do the eggs then; I’ll put the chains on the tires since there’s no way we’re going to make it through the drifts without them.”
“Oh I forgot!” exclaimed Tia. “What about the phone in your car? Maybe we can call Nancy and see if Tory has returned.”
“I already tried that but can’t get any reception. When we get out of this valley, I’ll try again.” He whirled and headed for his Jeep Cherokee, the truck door squealing with cold as Tia hurried to make breakfast.
Thirty minutes later, Jon stood in front of the wolf who peered sideward at him with narrow yellow eyes, his long tail swishing the edge of the cot.
“I don’t know,” muttered Jon, eyeing the wolf skeptically. “He seems to want to follow you and I’m afraid if we leave him here, he’ll try to track us and break open his wound.”
Tia crossed her arms and thought for a moment.
“Sugar views me as the leader of the pack and won’t abandon me, so I guess there’s no choice but to take him with us.”
“Okay,” Jon agreed, “but it’ll be risky.”
“It’s just a chance we’ll have to take,” responded Tia. “I know Sugar; he’ll try to find me if we leave. Could we make a bed of sorts in the back of your Jeep? Hopefully he’ll have enough sense to remain there and not fight the confines of the car.”
“Alright,” said Jon, “but I don’t want to move him anywhere without a muzzle. Would that be okay with you?”
Tia nodded solemnly, knowing how dangerous a bite a wolf can inflict. They made two trips to the black Cherokee, carrying blankets and a first aid kit in case the Jeep died in the middle of nowhere. Jon placed his long hunting rifle on the passenger seat with an extra pack of bullets and Tia was amazed at how much more secure it made her feel.
Jon plucked several leather muzzles from the metal trunk in his tent. “We keep muzzles here,” he explained, “since we plan to use Eskimo Dogs who are often half-wild when we head for the tundra at the end of the month.”
Sugar reared his shaggy head weakly, but allowed Jon to tighten the mouth piece. Even feeling safe from the wolf’s sharp jaws, the going was tough, the snow nearly tripping them several times as they carried the heavy wolf to the Jeep’s rear compartment. Tia spread out several of the green blankets and they laid the weak loafer there, panting as if they’d run a marathon. Jon returned to zip up the tents and kicked snow over the fire that had never really taken. He flung a large green backpack into the backseat and gunned the engine. The Jeep’s engine turned over without a hitch and pulling forward, he managed enough traction to maneuver the 4x4 squarely onto the rough road. Tia climbed in.
“Are you ready?” he asked
“Ready,” she responded.
He hesitated for moment, his hand upon the gearshift, before turning to her. “I just wanted you to know,” he began awkwardly, and suddenly it struck Tia like a bolt of lightning that Jon Simons was very shy. He cleared his throat. “I wanted you to know Tia that I would never harm you in any way and if it boiled right down to it...” he hesitated once again, obviously lost for words until Tia tenderly smiled at him.
And miracle of miracles he smiled back, the smile expanding until it reached his eyes. How had she ever thought him rough and unattractive? She slowly removed her left glove and placed a warm hand upon his cheek.
“I know you’ll never hurt me,” she said, “and I have never felt safer than I do at this moment.”
Tia leaned forward and brushed his lips with hers. Jon abruptly grabbed her, giving her a deep passionate kiss. When he finally broke off the embrace, Jon leaned back and stared at her, a half-grin tugging at his lips.
“Remind me to start each day with one of those.”
“I will,” whispered Tia, replacing her glove while he gunned the engine once.
“This might be a bit rough,” he warned. “I’ve got to get enough momentum to make it up the hill.” He patted the dashboard of the black Jeep. “C’mon girl,” and with that the wheels spun forcefully as the 4x4 lurched up the snow-covered road, jolting over rocks hidden beneath the white blanket before it claimed the narrow upper road. Sugar whined in the back and Tia spoke reassuringly to him.
“Now let’s go find that ex-fiancé of yours. He’s obviously more of an idiot than I originally thought.”
Tia couldn’t help but grin as the Jeep churned up the snow, Jon expertly turning the vehicle toward her cabin.
The roads were positively horrible as they chugged along at a snail’s pace, the snow piled into high drifts all along the road. Even though the track remained relatively clear, a foot of packed snow made the road slick and icy. The Jeep Cherokee often slid but the chains enabled them to maintain a slow pace. Jon skillfully maneuvered the dangerous road for nearly forty minutes, sometimes only sliding along at 7 to 8 miles an hour, as he battled the drifts and ice during those five long miles. Four times they had to alight in the bitter cold and take the two small portable shovels to dig the vehicle out. The last time Jon placed his shoulder against the Jeep as Tia urged the 4x4 forward, skidding over a large drift as the snow shot back at Jon, completely covering his snow pants and parka. He grinned ruefully at her before brushing himself off and climbing back into the driver’s seat.
“There’s no way we could have made it all the way to Timberline,” declared Jon, glancing grimly at her. “The road’s just too bad.”
“Look, there’s the owl!” shouted Tia.
The large, carved wooden owl barely protruded above the snow line at Tia’s driveway. Jon skidded the large vehicle to a stop.
“Thank God you had the foresight to place the bird there. I would have driven right past your road even though it’s full daylight. Well, the choice is yours, should we go to your cabin first or find the Ford?”
“The Ford. It’s not more than a quarter of a mile from here and I remember there’s a large cottonwood hanging over the edge of the road since we won’t be able
to see the skid marks in this snow.”
Jon inched along, eyeing the odometer as Tia watched for the cottonwood.
“There it is!” exclaimed Tia, bolting out of the Cherokee’s door into the thigh-deep snow before Jon could stop her. The cold hit her with an icy blast.
She heard a high whine and Jon soothed the wolf before joining her, the creature having behaved admirably during the entire excursion. He held the rifle casually in his right hand, his face a mask as they edged toward the embankment. Tia gestured to where the bright sun glinted off metal, her breath puffing up the cold air. There was little choice but to slide down the hill and quickly they banged up against the icy exterior of the car.
“You weren’t kidding about the shots,” stated Jon, pointing at the shattered rear windshield where a large round hole with an incredible series of large cracks formed a bizarre spider-web pattern. “Whoever fired this gunshot wanted the driver dead; it’s dead center to where he’d have been sitting.”
The driver’s door was stiff and unyielding, but Jon finally managed to pry it open. Glass was scattered over the vinyl seat and a spread-out map lay haphazardly upon the floor, partially covering a metal thermos wedged under the seat. Jon peered into the back cubby area behind the seat and pulled out a greasy maroon bag. Jon tossed it back after realizing it contained only an assortment of tools.
“There’s no blood, thank God. We can only hope your fiancé managed to escape.”
“He’s not my fiancé,” retorted Tia. Jon ignored her, but not before she witnessed the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.
He moved to the truck bed. “If Tory’s snowmobile was stowed in the back, it would have landed away from the truck upon impact. Why don’t you search over there while I check out this stand of spruce?”
After five minutes they gave up. The snowmobile might be hidden under a snow drift but it crossed Tia’s mind that Tory may never have caught up with Paul and fearing the approaching storm, headed home.
“Let’s climb back up to the car and see if Paul or Tory somehow made it your cabin.”
Reaching the road took over twenty minutes. For every foot Tia placed in front of her, she slid back two. By the time she and Jon had scaled the road they were both gasping for breath. At least the exertion warmed her.
Sugar whined in greeting as Jon started the engine. Within minutes they’d returned to the owl marker and Jon carefully eased onto her gravel road.
“Look!” she cried hoarsely as the cabin came into view. Smoke spiraled out of the log cabin’s stone chimney. “Paul and Tory are here!” Her hand dove for the door handle but Jon caught at her arm.
“Don’t Tia. You’re only assuming it’s them. Let me go first.”
She paused for a long moment, realizing his advice was probably sound. “Okay. I’ll tell you what. I’ll call to the house from behind the door and you can back me up with the rifle. Let’s just pray it’s Paul and Tory.”
Tia took a deep steadying breath and reached for the latch of the door, slowly swinging the panel wide while keeping her body wedged safely behind.
“Tory!” she called out, “Tory and Paul are you there?” Upon receiving no answer, she glanced back at Jon who shrugged. She slowly edged around the door and called out once again.
“Tory, Tory Leukowski! Are you in there?”
Suddenly Tia heard a muffled shout from within her cabin. “Run Tia, run! It’s a trap!”
A crash sounded from inside the log cabin and a muffled oath rang out just as the entryway door hurtled open. A man she’d never laid eyes on before charged through the door like a bull moose. While not recognizing his features under the short sandy hair and bristling moustache, she could clearly recognize the heavy rifle in his hands. She whipped back and twisted away from the car as the vehicle’s front pane exploded.
“Mon Dieu you’re a brave one!” shouted a distinctly French-Canadian voice.
Another shot resounded and the sharp hiss of a punctured tire, followed by an oath from Jon, propelled her away from the car. If a bullet hit the gas tank they were history.
“Make for the shed Tia, for the shed!” Jon urged, and Tia ran as fast as possible through the hip-deep snow, zigzagging in an effort to become less of a target.
“Stop!” ordered the heavily accented voice, but Tia paid him no mind, bolting for the square pine shed like a homing pigeon. With a sudden burst of speed she managed to lunge behind the wall as a shot blasted the wood paneling directly beside her. Jon pulled the rifle to his shoulder and squeezed off a quick shot and she heard an answering curse in French as Jon ducked behind the tool shed wall.
“Get behind me girl!” Jon ordered and she obeyed, peering over his shoulder. She could only make out the husky form of a man in a bright red parka. Another shot crashed into the small shack and Jon pushed her back.
“We’ve got to cut and run for it.”
“But what about the Jeep and Sugar?”
“Damn! I forgot about Sugar!” cursed Jon. “And now he’s between us and the car.” He lifted his rifle. “I take it you know how to use one of these?”
“Of course.”
Suddenly a loud whine and squeal permeated the cold air as Sugar leaped out the driver’s door of the Jeep and ran straight for the man in the bright red parka. The Canadian shrieked and lunged backward, falling into the soft snow. Sugar leaped lightly, almost as if he’d never been injured, easily clearing the frightened man before making an abrupt left and tearing off into the forest. The sandy-haired French-Canadian slapped his rifle to his shoulder and began firing wildly, heedless of the shouts coming from the house. One shot hit the parked Jeep, while another ricocheted to hit Tia’s blue Chevy Blazer.
It was a fluke shot, one the Canadian never meant to make, and a loud explosion boiled smoke into the air as the spare gas tank strapped to the rear of the truck burst into flame. Debris and metal slammed into the Kia Sorento parked not far from the side of the house and the Canadian leaped under the cabin’s overhang to protect himself from the wildly flying metal. Steve materialized behind the Canadian and ducked. Immediately he recovered and shouted something and both men, using the house as shelter, fired rapidly at the tool shed, the bullets zinging out of the black smoke like tiny assassins.
The hail of bullets forced Tia to the ground and she covered her head with her arms as the bright Scandinavian cap fell onto the snow.
“He’s got me pinned down Tia and it’s just a matter of time before he connects with one or both of us. We’ll have to split up and strike for the woods. Head northwest into the forest and I’ll meet you near the creek in a few minutes.”
Another shot splintered the wood of the tool shed as Tia ducked again. She had no choice but to obey Jon’s order. After another clunk and twang she bolted through the snow, hoping the shed would prove enough of a protective barrier as she followed the tracks of the gray loafer wolf.
Zigzagging awkwardly through the snow, she headed straight for the tree line. Tia had no sooner ducked behind a large Sitka spruce when the tell tale thud of a bullet struck close enough to fling pieces of bark at her and she plunged headlong into the dark forest heedless of any noise she’d might make. A loud flurry of several rifle shots belched and Tia knew Jon returned their fire. She finally paused behind the white bark of a paper birch and observed Jon making a low fast run for the trees behind the house directly opposite from her. She swore he raised his rifle at her, his message clear; keep running!
Much later, out of breath and shivering, she huddled next to a white spruce. From the position of the sun she realized she’d headed west from her cabin, whereas Jon had bolted east. The stream had to be directly north from where she stood. She labored through the soft snow, hoping to meet up with him, her ears alert to every little sound. She remembered how Jon had warned her about Steve and hated that he’d been proven right! Steve had blatantly lied to her and then apparently tried to kill her. It showed once again how easily she could be duped by seemingly ‘ni
ce’ people.
A large group of boulders, their edges smooth and bubble-shaped, nestled on the other side of the slow-moving stream. Tia had a sudden brainstorm and stepped into the water in the oversized boots and bounded across the six-foot-wide creek. She deftly scaled the back of the largest rock, her huge boots making squelching sounds, and lay flat so she could view the way she’d traveled. The sound of the stream murmured enchantingly and Tia, realizing the bright blue parka made her an easy target, ducked down into a small hollowed-out section between two large boulders to wait. A narrow vertical slit between the rocks allowed her a window into the forest.
Soon, methodical footsteps crunching on the new snow alerted her to someone’s presence.
With a sinking heart she recognized Steve. He held a rifle casually by his side and examined her tracks. He then searched the surrounding forest, so close Tia could observe the extraordinarily handsome lines of his tanned face and cheeks burned red by the cold. He’d donned a heavy dark purple parka and she inwardly seethed. That was her father’s jacket and, she realized belatedly, his hunting rifle! Had the man no shame?
She recalled their pleasant conversations and his sad story about his unfaithful wife. That, like everything else had probably just been a lie engineered to gain her confidence. Steve paused, appearing puzzled. Her trail had seemed to stop abruptly at the stream and he cocked his head to one side, listening intently. Tia held her breath. Only the wind through the pines and the tinkling gurgle of the small creek broke the silence of the chilly morning.
Steve hesitated and then headed into the creek, checking for evidence that she’d leaped onto the other side. At the absence of tell-tale footprints he paused, and then followed the stream in the opposite direction searching intently for exit tracks on both sides. Tia waited until he was well out of sight before edging around the rocks to search for an escape path. A large fallen log jutted upward and she carefully tip-toed across it to where other rocks peeking out of the snow protruded like awkward steps. She managed to jump from rock to rock without disturbing the snow upon the ground for the next fifty feet in the opposite direction from Steve, often teetering as she searched for another ‘stepping stone.’
Timberline Trail Page 11