Chapter Four

Wednesday, October 16 th .

Black Wolf Mountain. Rocky Mountains.

Travis figured he had a handle on the woodstove and the generator. The cabin stayed warm and his cooking on the sporadic heat of the wood fire had improved.

The wood box next to the stove was full of wood. The basket full of chopped kindling, and he'd discovered using icicles in the cooler to keep the food fresh. They seemed to last longer than the bagged ice and they were readily available hanging from the eaves outside. All he had to do was snap them off and bring them in. Cheaper too.

Sun filtered through the evergreens as Travis tramped the virgin forest searching for the perfect spot to put Olivia to rest. He wanted it to be a special place—easy to recognize and find again—in case he wanted to visit her the next time he brought the boys up to stay at the cabin.

Now that he knew where the cabin was located, and what the secluded property had to offer, he wouldn't be neglecting it so badly. He planned to bring the boys and Billy up here for a weekend before the roads became impassable.

The dogs heard something Travis couldn't hear, and they veered off and picked up speed. He whistled for them to come back but they didn't. In the distance he could hear them pounding through the forest after a rabbit or a coyote.

"Meet you boys back at the cabin," Travis called to them as he headed back down the mountain.

Startled, he suddenly stopped dead as a wolf snapped out of the trees and streaked across the path in front of him. Not a path but the tramped-down snow indicating the way he'd climbed upward. He was the only one on this part of the mountain.

I should have a compass.

Ignoring the lone wolf, he kept going. Yipping came from the trees to his left. Wolves talking to each other. More than one.

Hope they're not talking about me.

A glance over his shoulder and there they were. Silent and determined, stalking him from behind. Three of them. Large, black and gray, bushy winter coats. Hungry watchful eyes.

Made him wonder why he'd hiked up the mountain without a rifle. Leaving it in the cabin was a stupid, rookie move. This was wild untamed country where you risked your life tramping around without a gun.

Wanting to run but knowing better, Travis slowed down his pace hoping if he showed no fear the trio would piss off and leave him alone. They didn't.

Following along behind waiting for their chance, Travis didn't whistle for the dogs. The last thing he wanted was Max and Sarge tangling with a pack of wolves on the hunt. The dogs would be no match for the wolves, and they'd wind up as wolf food.

The cabin was in sight but not close. Still about a hundred yards down the mountain. Travis figured he could make it with one quick sprint, and he had to try.

Growling intensified behind him. When he turned his head for a quick glance and then started to run, they were on him that fast.

Working as a team, the three big wolves took him down and tore at his clothes. The growling and snarling was close to deafening. Trying to fight the three of them off was a losing battle.

Travis' main fight was with the leader. That big boy was trying to clamp his jaws around Travis' neck and finish him.

One wolf sunk sharp teeth into his leg and made him holler out loud in pain. Another had him by the arm trying to drag him off into the trees.

I'm a goner. I can't get up to run.

Hot, wet blood soaked his leg. Couldn't see it, but he could feel it and the blackness coming on confirmed how much blood he'd lost already.

If he gave in and lost consciousness, the wolves would zero in for the kill. He had to keep fighting them off for as long as he could.

Keep it together. Don't pass out.

A deep growl not far away scattered the pack and they were gone as quickly as they'd come. Disappeared into the trees like magic.

Travis figured the wolves traded him in for a bear. The dogs still weren't back. Fantastic.

"Wolves get you, buddy? What are you thinking? Ain't you got a gun?"

Travis figured he must be dreaming. Nobody lived on this side of the mountain except him. His was the only cabin. Not a single soul would be passing by. It wasn't possible.

Through cloudy, semi-conscious eyes, he glanced up to see who was talking to him and thought it might be a girl. Kind of a mountain girl in a parka and wool cap.

Big brown bear on a leash right beside her. Growling. Kind of swaying back and forth, one paw to the other. Back and forth. Back and forth. Black bear eyes focused on him.

For sure I'm dreaming.

Fuck.

"Come on, buddy. It's time to get you into your cabin. Your leg is bleeding pretty bad."

Travis struggled to sit up and the girl grabbed him under the arms and hauled him to his feet. He stood on the one good leg and tipped sideways. Couldn't stand upright on his own.

Dizzy as an old coot, he watched the bear walk away dragging his leash.

"Don't go far, Teddy," hollered the girl. She hunkered down and half-dragged Travis through the deep snow to the back door of the cabin.

"Where'd you come from?" Travis mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"Up higher." She opened the door, pushed it wide so she could get him through the opening. Mule-kicked it backwards with her boot to close it once they were inside.

Slam.

"Got a name?"

She flopped him sideways onto his bed and he closed his eyes so thankful he'd made it that far.

"Don't need a name. Only me and Ted up there."

"Right. You must've had a name once." His breathing was ragged, and the words came out all jumbled in a search for enough oxygen to keep going.

"Used to be Sunday. Back in the day."

"In the day? You don't even look thirty, for chrissakes."

"Feel old."

"Don't get blood on my quilts." Travis tried to move his leg and it was numb as a frozen dick.

"Ain't my blood, buddy. Your blood—your quilt—your job." She moved to the bottom of the bed and yanked off his boots. Tossed them aside to get his pants off.

Without stopping to ask permission, she undid the zipper and tugged his jeans down. Made a face when she saw the bite. "Yeah, they chewed you up good, buddy."

"Dale."

"Girl's name. You need stitches, buddy. Got any supplies?"

"Nope. First aid in the truck but nothing for stitches. I could drive to a clinic if I had to."

That made her laugh.

"Calling bullshit on that one, Dale. You don't look like a girl. You one of them superhero guys who keeps popping up after the wolves tear their leg half fuckin off? Hate those fuckers in the movies. I wish them all dead."

"I ain't one of those guys." Travis leaned back into his pillow barely able to stay conscious through the pain.

"What are you then, Dale? Tats on your legs. Probably on your arms and body too. Maybe on your dick. Don't want to confirm that one any time soon. You one of them biker dudes?"

"Long time ago maybe."

"No fuckin maybe, Dale. Stay there. I'm gonna boil water. Got any whiskey?"

"Tequila."

"Just as good."

"Is your bear gonna wander off, Sunday?"

"He'll just go on home if I take too long. He's a good boy."

"My dogs are out there."

"Ted won't hurt them. I have a dog and Ted knows better. Butchie will show up looking for me."

"How far up the mountain do you live?"

"Far enough nobody bothers me. That's the way I like it."

He could hear her putting more wood in the stove while she was in the kitchen.

She probably has a woodstove too.

Travis winced when she came back with the hot, wet towel and wrapped his leg up snug. "Don't move your leg."

"I won't."

"Where's the first aid in the truck?"

"Glove box."

"Keys?"

"Kitchen table."

"Lie still while I'm gone."

"Don't think you have to tell me that."

"Most men are stupid."

"I agree with that."

She slammed out the front door of the cabin and Travis had a hard time believing she was here at all. According to the little map of the mountain his Uncle Carson had drawn for him, there were no cabins farther up. All cabins were marked. Huh.

Sunday ran back into the cabin with the first aid kit in her hand. She shed her parka and yanked the cap off her head and long strawberry blonde hair cascaded down past her shoulders. No makeup and she didn't need any. Beautiful girl with high color in her cheeks. Flashing green eyes.

She removed the hot towel after it soaked up most of the blood and the mess. Dried his leg with a fresh towel. Pulled the torn skin together as neatly as she could. Applied the only antiseptic cream in the kit, and then bandaged his leg up as tightly as she could.

"Good as it gets, buddy."

Travis let out the breath he was holding. Her working on his leg it was so fuckin painful, it was all he could do to keep from screaming bloody murder.

Sunday fetched the tequila from the kitchen table and poured two shots. "Drink this, buddy. It'll help you sleep." She held his head up so he could swallow.

"Thanks."

"I'll get the dogs in and watch you for a while. You might have more bleeding. No fuckin stitches to hold you together. I'm not sure what's going to happen."

"Me neither," Travis mumbled.

Sunday opened the back door and called the dogs. Three of them came tearing in. Max and Sarge excited to have a new friend.

Butchie was a chocolate Lab. Friendly and free with her tongue. She licked Travis's face before he could stop her.

"Lie down, Butchie. I'll make coffee, Dale."

"Thanks."

"You don't have to thank me. I'm your neighbor."

I find that hard to believe.

Wild Stallion Ranch.

"Aw Jeeze," said Virge. He tried to open the back door to go to the barn and the door wouldn't budge. Blocked with a three-foot snowdrift. "We can't get out."

We went out the front door, picked up a shovel off the front porch and shoveled our way to the barn to do the chores.

After the horses were fed and bedded down with extra straw to keep them warm, I went to the garage where Dad kept the old tractor with the snowplow on the front of it. I finally got it going and Virge plowed a pathway to the road.

Billy had breakfast ready when we came into the house, and he was taking a call and busy writing down the first accident report of the day.

"This gonna be another one of them crash days, Billy?"

"Looks like it. Still snowing and we got about six to eight inches overnight. The roads will be a mess until the plows have time to make the rounds."

"Wonder if Dad's snowed in up the mountain and he can't get home," said Virge.

"Could be," I said. "He can't call if there ain't any service up there."

"I don't like it," said Virge. "Him up there with bears and wolves all by himself. It has a creepy feel to it."

"I'm not too fond of it myself, Virgie," I said to my brother. "All I think about is us driving up there and getting him back home."

"Copy that." Virge gave me a fist bump.

Sheriff's Office. Coyote Creek.

We came across Ted on the way to the station, and he had the first accident under control. Me and Virge stopped to help him hook up the lady's little Ford SUV so he could tow it to the garage. She rear-ended a pickup and when the vehicles pulled apart, her front bumper jerked right off.

We stamped the snow off our boots on the mat in the sally port but still made a helluva mess of the tile floors in the rest of the station. Not much we could do. We'd be in and out all day and the weather was shit.

Molly had picked up breakfast containers at the diner across the road and delivered the food to the women in the run, but she didn't seem happy about it.

"They didn't insult you, did they, Molly?" asked Billy. "What aren't you telling me?"

"I'm not repeating what they said to me. Just that they're a rude bunch of women."

"Which one had the most to say?" asked Virge.

He was still looking for the leader of the stripper-haters and he made me laugh.

"Lila Gordon," said Molly.

That made Virgie smile. "Nailed it, Molly. She's the leader of the bitches."

Molly giggled. "You sure, Virgil?"

"Pretty sure. I'll test her."

Billy unlocked the run, waltzed in with his hand hovering near his holster, and gave the bitches a shout out. "If any of you women have something to say, say it to me and not to the dispatcher. Say one more word to Molly while she's bringing your meals to you, and the food stops. Are we clear?"

A couple of them nodded their heads and Billy locked them up in the dark and left them to ponder his words.

Two of the women in the club had called lawyers, and the legal beagles arrived later in the morning to talk to their clients.

Billy didn't know the attorneys, but he provided them with the information he had and said all six women belonged to a protest group who'd committed arson in Ethridge.

It wasn't long after the lawyers showed up that one of the husbands blasted in the front door of the station hollering and yelling about his wife.

Jerry Paige stomped across the squad room yelling curses at all of us and making threats—what he'd do to every one of us if we didn't release his wife.

Billy pointed to the bench inside the front door of the station, but Jerry wouldn't sit down. "You can see your wife tomorrow, Mister Paige, when she appears in court at her arraignment."

"What the fuck is my wife charged with, Sheriff?"

"Arson, sir."

"Bullshit. My wife is no arsonist. I want to see her now. I mean now."

Billy stood his ground and shook his head. "Not possible. We have no visitation facilities here at this station."

Jerry tried to push past Billy to head for the run at the back of the building. That's when me and Virge had to block the hallway and turn Jerry around.

"You have to leave, sir, or we'll be forced to lock you up with your wife and all her buddies."

"My wife doesn't have any buddies, and you can't make me leave."

Virge was quick with the stick. He whipped it off his belt and whacked Jerry a huge stroke across the back of his knees.

Jerry did a face plant on the tiles and grunted a bit. When he picked himself up, he headed for the door with no more fuss. Guess he figured Virge wasn't kidding around.

Molly smiled and passed the donuts to Virgie.

Louisiana Bayou. Near the Gulf.

Clyde's long bloodhound ears flapped in the wind as the boat raced forward. The spray from the river hitting him in the face and making the big dog squint his eyes closed. Nothing Clyde loved more than riding the river in the Jon boat.

It would take half a day to get to the camp they were searching for and during the long boat ride, Mason had plenty of time to formulate a plan. The veteran of many, many swamp retrievals, Mason's success rate was second to none. That's why he'd been chosen by Mrs. Powell to find her step-daughter.

Having a rough idea which channel the outlaw camp was on, Mason stopped at a riverside settlement about two miles before he had to make the turn up the outlaw cut. Going into the camp alone would be foolish and Mason Swift had no intentions of doing that.

He tied his Jon boat to the dock, strolled up the berm and knocked on the door of a guy he'd known for most of his life. A guy who might give him a hand with the outlaws for a bit of cash money.

Tiny Leduc opened the door of his weathered wooden shack and grinned when he saw Mason standing on his doorstep with Clyde.

" Entre mon frere . Gabriella has coffee on the stove and dose biscuits you so fond of." He laughed.

Mason gave his friend a hug and a pat on the back as he stepped into the friendly warm kitchen of the little house.

"What you doing way down here, Swifty? You hunting down some poor fucker who ain't got but one prayer agin' you?"

"A girl. She's young, but a bad one. She's a kidnapper and she shot a cop. Texas Ranger."

Tiny nodded his big bushy head. " Oui . Heard about her. Not many secrets way down here near open water."

"She's in the outlaw camp?"

"Yep. Heard she was der. A wild one. When she first got der, da boys beat her up pretty good to tame her down to der liking. What I heard. Folks say dem guys pay a thousand to Carl Levron for her—she being so pretty, n' young, n'all. Levron splits wid Bonaventure and right den, dat girl, she kills old Carl and Pierre takes off wid all dat thousand bucks for hisself. Dat's da story Tiny hears from four different peoples on da river."

"Huh. One of the best stories I've heard in a while."

"How much bounty on her, Swifty?" asked Tiny.

"None. I'm being paid by the day by her mother to find her and bring her back to Texas. The mama knows the girl's gotta go to jail, but she don't want her with the outlaws or turning up dead in the swamp."

"You need help wid da bad girl, Swifty?"

"Sure do. I can pay you and one other guy for a couple hours' work, Tiny. Anybody else hanging around with a couple of hours of free time?"

"Beau will do it if you ask him. He's always up for a good scrap and he hates them motherfuckers in the camp down river."

Mason smiled. "Let's go see if Beau is up for it."

Tiny and Mason sauntered up the hill to the shack Beau Rivard lived in and had a couple beers with him.

"Best to hit them in the morning," said Beau, "when dose boys are hung over and ain't ready for us—be da perfect time."

Mason said, "Sure. Good idea. We'll wait and go after Tammy early in the morning."