Dear Tia,
You probably remember me, Ben Oswald, the partner of that no-account photographer, Jon Simons?
Well, I’ve had enough of Jon sulking around with his head stuck in a dark black cloud and I decided it’s time for me to take both of your futures into my own hands since you both seem unwilling or unable to recognize that you two are the best thing that ever happened to each other. I have never in my entire life met two more stubborn or ornery people. My poor deceased wife used to say I was the most mule-headed man ever born, but I’m nothing compared to the likes of you two! So come to your senses girl and hopefully this ticket will reach you in time to fly here by Christmas. We’re doing a shoot about wild dogs in South Africa and this was the best present I could think to give him. Consider it a charity gift for endangered species, because if you don’t come I’m just going to have to put him out of his misery. Help me out because I’d hate to have to train a new partner.
Best regards and get over here as soon as possible.
Ben Oswald
The oversized signature nearly ran off the page and Tia remembered the rough face of the grizzled older man and his no-nonsense attitude when he’d visited her in the clinic three months ago. Tia opened up the white envelope and one round trip ticket to Johannesburg, South Africa, along with an accompanying ticket to the Sabi Sands Game Reserve, stared up challengingly at her. The flight from Los Angeles was scheduled to leave on the twenty-third of December. A broad grin spread across Mary’s good-natured face.
“Well, well, maybe you won’t be spending Christmas in LA after all? I bet we can arrange for Jed to fly you down to Anchorage and get you to LA in time to make your connection.
Tia shook her head.
“Oh don’t be a blasted fool,” said Mary, losing her temper as she rose to her full five-foot-nothing height “He’s sulking, you’re sulking. Why don’t you just take the free trip and take a chance. What have you got to lose? Besides, anyone with a lick of sense can see Jon Simons is the right man for you since nobody else could possibly put up with your reclusive nature and blasted stubborn streak! I’m sick to death of seeing that mooning face of yours around here. So turn around that truck, pack yourself a bag of safari clothes, and move your butt to Africa. And don’t forget your passport, do you hear me girl?”
Tia gazed into the flashing black eyes of Mary Whitebird and nodded slowly.
Tia fidgeted as the humming Boeing 757 made its way from Atlanta to Cape Town and stared nervously out of her window, wondering for the umpteenth time if she should just turn around and head home. Everything had gone without a hitch and once in Cape Town she would take a connecting flight to Johannesburg before catching a smaller plane to Sabi Sands, where Jon was supposedly encamped tracking the elusive wild dog.
Tia reread Ben’s latest telegram and glanced down at her fingers which trembled, scarcely believing she’d actually dashed off to the Southern Hemisphere to see a man who’d most likely reject her the minute he laid eyes on her. It was supposedly summer in South Africa and Tia knew she wasn’t any more prepared to face the sweltering heat of the bushveld than meet Jon again. She only had a ninety minute layover at the Jan Smuts International Airport in Johannesburg to brood before reluctantly boarding a small four-seater plane that would take her to a remote airfield near Kruger National Park.
As the aircraft circled the small landing strip Tia observed a herd of 12-15 elephants slinging mud and water over their hot hides at a small waterhole, while some sleek impala sidled up to the pond to drink beside the massive herbivores. The aircraft bumped several times on the sandy runway before skidding to a stop and Tia flinched at the warm blast after the small airplane’s door opened to disgorge her.
A smiling African man, who sweated profusely, met her as she stepped off the small aircraft.
Heat hung in shimmering waves this warm Christmas morning, the humidity high.
“Welcome madam,” said the cheery Zulu guide, retrieving Tia’s two suitcases and leading her to a small white van. She soon sat beside him on the jolting road, heading toward Jon and Ben’s camp.
“Keep looking out the window,” said her guide, who’d introduced himself as Lucky. “You never know what you might find. There’s been a lot of rain and sometimes it’s hard to glimpse the animals in the midday heat because they’re hiding.”
“Your name’s really Lucky?” asked Tia, glancing at the nametag pinned to his green safari shirt.
“Yes,” he said, flashing incredibly straight white teeth. “That’s my name alright. My mother had six daughters and when I was born named me Lucky on the spot.”
Tia laughed and suddenly pointed a shaky finger at a massive long-legged bird sprinting through the high grass.
“What’s that?”
“Ah, just a secretary bird. We love ‘em because they eat all the snakes you know; lots of cobra and mamba in the area.”
Tia gulped and tucked her legs under the seat as the van bounced toward the remote camp. By the time she arrived, Tia had spotted numerous antelope and at least twenty species of bird, including one Lucky told her always inhabited the camp in hopes of picking up some leftover tidbits. “That’s the yellow hornbill. Noisy little bugger but great about warning you if dangerous game is about.” Lucky pointed to a brown-colored river flowing through a clump of huge trees. “Just yesterday a whole herd of Cape buffalo crashed across the river and we thought they were going to stampede the camp. Luckily for us they chose to return to the river.”
The camp loomed into sight, surrounded by a large electric fence designed to keep the animals out. It consisted of a large cooking structure and covered eating area as well as several free-standing tents. A combination outhouse and shower was located discreetly downwind from the social areas.
Right before they drove into the electric wired enclosure of Jon’s camp, Tia spotted a regal cheetah sitting underneath a shady thorn tree, panting heavily in the mid-day heat. The animal didn’t seem remotely startled at Tia and her driver.
“That cheetah has been hanging around here for a couple of days,” said Lucky, dismissing the animal as if it was something routine. “Mr. Simons and Mr. Oswald took some great photos of her the day before yesterday. Said they’re going to include it in their new book. We’ve seen lion, rhino, and hippo in the area and the other day discovered a leopard kill, but no leopard. We’ll have to keep an eye out for him.”
“What about the wild dogs?” asked Tia. “Isn’t that the reason Jon and Ben came here?”
“You bet. Sipho has been tracking the pack for the last couple of weeks and found their hidey hole about two kilometers from here near the river. They’d whelped their pups in an old termite mound and just yesterday Mr. Simons photographed the pack running down an impala.”
Tia had read a little about wild dogs’ ruthless manner of hamstringing their prey to bring it down before tearing it apart. Their brutal hunting habits had encouraged farmers and hunters throughout Southern Africa to kill what they considered a nasty animal on sight, not realizing how important the wild dog was to the precarious African food chain.
A short, khaki-clad black man opened the gate for them as Lucky drove noisily into the enclosure. “That’s Thabo, the camp cook. He speaks seven languages including English, Afrikaans, and Zulu. He also plays a mean game of poker.”
Thabo smiled broadly, revealing a shiny gold cap half-covering his front tooth. He stuck out a hand and gripped Tia’s firmly. “I’m glad to meet you Mama. I’ll put you away from the men. The loo is over there, downwind from the camp, and you should be safe enough in here at night, though I’d advise you to never wander outside the fence. This is a permanent electrified camp for environmentalists who periodically check on the wild dogs’ progress, so we have a lot of visitors and want to make sure everyone wakes up with all their limbs intact.”
He chuckled and sauntered on his way as Tia peered into the tall grass, wondering what other animals lurked outside the fence other than the harmless-
looking cheetah. A red hornbill dabbed its big beak into the dust near her tent and flew up into a thorn tree with an indignant cry at her approach.
Tia followed Lucky to her large safari tent, built two feet above the earth upon wooden slabs in an effort to discourage snakes and insects from entering.
“Lucky,” asked Tia, after he had set her bags beside her tent and turned to go. “Did Jon Simons know I was arriving for Christmas?”
“I wouldn’t know madam, though Mr. Oswald indicated you were coming today.” The attractive African man tucked his hands into his pockets and strode off whistling.
Tia unpacked most of her suitcase and sat longing for a cold shower when she heard the roar of an advancing vehicle. She peeked out of her tent to glimpse a large, open, game-viewing truck pull into the small camp. Ben Oswald leaped nimbly out of the large range rover and patted the African driver upon the shoulder.
“What a great morning,” he boomed. “To see those pups nursing their dam was a wonderful sight indeed.”
Lucky hurried up to Ben and whispered something in his ear. Ben straightened, pinpointing Tia in the open flap of her canvas tent. Jon remained oblivious to her arrival as he handed down heavy photographic equipment to Ben and Lucky before hopping down. Dressed in khaki shorts with a shirt open at the neck, he also wore a battered old floppy hat tied under his chin. A long scratch marred the tanned smoothness of his legs, shod in rough hiking boots, and his face was lined with fatigue. Jon’s hair needed cutting and he looked thinner than she remembered.
Ben’s voice boomed. “Looks like we got ourselves a guest just in time for Christmas,” he stated loudly. “And I bet you’d like to make sure she gets all settled in.”
Jon gazed bewilderedly at Ben and Lucky for a moment, before following their pointed gaze. Tia waited, feeling sweaty and hot in her light tan cargo pants and pale yellow shirt. She’d braided her blonde hair, but a few wisps had escaped its pony tail. Tia wished she’d had time to wash and change into a clean outfit or at least comb her hair, but it was too late now.
“Damn it Ben,” she heard him grunt under his breath and Jon appeared about ready to leap back inside the 4x4 and bolt out of the camp.
“Oh put a sock in it,” said Ben gruffly. He tapped Lucky on the shoulder and the pair headed off toward the heavily shaded facilities of the dining area.
Jon stood a while in the hot sun, the photography equipment at his feet. He finally roused himself and slowly headed toward her tent, halting right below her landing. The sun shone directly behind him and Tia shaded her eyes and examined him. He was dusty and sweaty, his shirt wet with perspiration, and his long shorts had streaks of grass stains on them. She’d never seen anyone so beautiful in her entire life.
“Hello Tia,” he said hoarsely, barely daring to believe she was really here.
“Ben sent me a ticket,” explained Tia. “Said he got tired of you moping around and I think I got tired of moping around myself.”
“And so?” said Jon, letting the two words hang between them.
“I finally got the envelope your sister mailed me,” said Tia, wishing to inform him of that first, before anything else. “The envelope got routed to Timberline in the Northwest Territories by accident and eventually made it to Timberline, Alaska four months late. I handed over the document and the disk to Sheriff Morgan. I know he will forward it to the right authorities.”
“So that takes care of my sister,” said Jon matter-of-factly. “But what about you?”
“No,” said Tia softly. “It’s really, what about us? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my father, Jon, but it was his last wish not to reveal that he had died until a year after his death. I think that somehow he was trying to protect me. But...” she added helplessly. “Things seem so different now with Dad gone. RK’s dead and Uncle Jeffery’s living happily with Paul and all the feelings of warmth and security that I once felt at Timberline just don’t exist anymore.”
Jon started at the mention of Paul, an incredulous look settling over his sweaty face.
“Maybe it’s because my cabin was violated by my own brother as well as Steve and Mike. But it’s more than that. I realized that never once did I give you a fair chance. Never once did I allow you the opportunity to fully trust me, so in turn I didn’t trust you. I can only hope that after all this time you’ll forgive me and realize how much I love you.”
Jon stared at her for a full minute in the hot sun. “So,” he said finally. “What are you going to do about it?”
The soft voice had taken on a different tone, a tone definitely sensual and enticing.
“What do you mean what am I going to do about it?” Tia whispered.
“Well... normally when a man is standing in the hot sun, the woman who says she loves him invites him inside her nice shady cool tent to offer him a glass of water or something.”
A slow smile spread across Tia’s face. “Or something?” she repeated, before slowly extending her hand.
Jon took it gingerly and stepped up on her landing, placing an arm around her waist before ducking inside her spacious tent.
Ben relaxed in the shade of the large dining tent and watched as Jon deftly zipped up the canvas tent flap.
“I think we may have to cancel our afternoon game drive,” he mentioned to Thabo, who sipped ice-cold lemonade behind him.
“You may be right Mr. Oswald,” smiled Thabo. “And I believe you owe me over a hundred rand from our last game of poker.”
“What?” snorted Ben. “Owe you over a hundred rand? Well, we’ll see about that!” The two headed back to the metal table to continue their long-contested poker match as Ben smiled to himself, thoroughly pleased with the outcome of his match-making. He didn’t even care if he lost.
Epilogue
The lone loafer wolf raised his head as he sat on his haunches and tilted his snout toward the moon before giving a long melodic howl. He was soon joined by another answering howl and then another. The click of Jon’s camera captured Sugar as he called to his mate in the heavy woods five miles outside Tia’s cabin. Jon had been following the wolf for several days, sometimes accompanied by his new wife and sometimes not. The moon shone over the treetops of the Timberline Trail, though it never got fully dark during June in this part of Alaska.
Soon a smaller wolf with a black-tipped tail joined the larger wolf and they greeted each other by brushing noses. The smaller wolf placed her neck over the larger loafer’s back before the two trotted off. Jon snapped one last shot before packing up his photographic equipment. He scurried back to his truck, already smelling the heavy smoke issuing from the river rock fireplace always left lit to help guide him home. Fifteen minutes later he opened the door. Tia had indeed left the fire going and upon the low table two snifters of amber brandy swirled.
“Are you done traipsing around for the evening?” came Tia’s voice from the doorway of the master bedroom and Jon turned, observing Tia in a filmy white nightgown, her hair held up with pins he planned to release within minutes, allowing her long blonde hair to tumbledown in a golden cascade over her shoulders.
“I think I’m partially finished for the evening,” he said. “I spotted Sugar and his mate up near the ridge and they looked pretty content.”
“And why shouldn’t they be?” asked Tia, as her husband joined her.
He encased her slim waist with warm loving arms and brought his lips down upon hers, intensely grateful that both lonely males had finally found what they’d been searching for.
The End
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Timberline Trail Page 23