Together in the Wild: Clean Romance Novella (Alaska Adventure Romance Book 4)

by Hart, Renee

  Table of Contents

  Together in the Wild

  BONUS BOOKS

  Transforming Jude

  Tessa's Spring

  Tessa's Summer

  Crazy Sweet Love

  Trusting Your Heart

  One Simple Thing

  The Makeover 2

  My Makeover

  Together in the Wild

  An Alaska Romance Novella

  RENEE HART

  Copyright © 2016 by Renee Hart

  All rights reserved, worldwide.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ***

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  Book Description

  Construction worker, Graham, has escaped to the Alaskan Bush after a messy divorce. He builds a single room cabin and takes up the Bush life near a native village. He's learning that surviving in the wild is a lot harder than it looks.

  He's desperately working to get enough wood cut and split before winter comes when his friend, an Athabaskan elder named Ravensong, brings Graham some mail that will change his life forever.

  The pressures in Graham's predicament keep mounting, until an intern named Ashley throws him a lifeline which he desperately needs. Ashley can only hope that Graham will see the situation for what it really is and do what needs to be done.

  This is a 20,000 word novella with no cliffhanger and HEA ending.

  Three more standalone books in the Alaska Romance Series:

  A Single Year,

  The Summer Nanny

  and

  End of the Road

  by Renee Hart,

  are available on Amazon.com.

  Chapter 1

  Graham stared at the broken chain for several minutes as he worked through his next move. There was a time, not so long ago, when he would have thrown down the busted tool in disgust and stormed away in anger. He liked to think he was past such childish behavior, but there was just enough doubt left in him to make him wonder when things went wrong. An old acquaintance used to say, “Sure, people can change, but not that much.” and then he’d snicker as if it was the best joke ever told.

  Busting his chainsaw wasn’t on his list of things to do before winter came storming his way. At this point, he figured he had about half the firewood he needed to make it until spring. Without a chainsaw he wasn’t going to be setting any records cutting down trees and hacking them up into pieces he could maul. His nearest neighbor, Ravensong, had warned him to buy spare parts for his tools. The problem was that spare parts didn’t always fit into a budget with barely enough room for simple things like….food.

  With one end of the chain wrapped tightly around the spindle and the other end pinched in the gap of the fallen tree, Graham was faced with the problem of how to rescue the saw without doing further damage to it. He knew his cutting techniques were pretty lame, as he tackled trees far beyond his skills with tools not built for the demands he placed on them.

  His former life as a building contractor included a lavish budget for the best tools available in the marketplace. Breaking an expensive saw meant little more than losing a handful of nails back then. Here in the Alaskan bush, losing a handful of nails could mean the difference between a rock solid roof and one that flapped in the wind all winter long. It wasn’t like you could run down to your local hardware store and pick up some spares any time you felt like having a jaunt.

  Poking and prodding the mess he’d created wasn’t revealing any way to work the chain free from the tree. Settling back on his heels, he closed his eyes and pushed away every ounce of worry, fear and distress that came at his mind. Ravensong told him the answer to every problem was here in God’s creation. A person just needed to clear away all the confusion and noise in their head and learn how to listen.

  As the sounds of the birds worked their way into his head, he reached a little deeper until he could hear the wind whispering in the trees and brush around him. The distant sound of a barking dog drew his attention home, but he let go of that thought. It wasn’t time for him to go home yet. His cart wasn’t full. Not finding anything in the darkness behind his eyelids, he opened his eyes and looked around the area again.

  Focusing on the chainsaw, he realized that if he loosened the paddle from the chainsaw, the chain itself would be free. It might not give him a way to get the chain out of the tree, but it would save the chainsaw from any further damage. He loosened the two bolts holding it in place and almost laughed as the paddle slipped free of the chain and in the process released the chainsaw from its precarious position beneath the damaged tree.

  With the chainsaw out of the way, Graham saw how to move the far end of the log he was cutting. This simple move released the chain, leaving him with a broken chain link to resolve and nothing more. Wiping the sweat away from his brow, he gave into the small sense of satisfaction that came when he fixed a problem without a tantrum. These were small steps, but every one counted as he looked for the evidence to prove he was clearly a new man.

  Every day he overcame one of his old ways became a day to celebrate in his new life. Coming to Alaska was originally intended as an escape from everything that was wrong with his world. Unfortunately, his life out here in the bush had a way of bringing all those wrong things into a very different kind of focus. It hadn’t taken too long to learn how the problems that brought him here were still very much a part of him. He didn’t escape from a single thing on this journey. It was all just part of the baggage he carried along with him.

  Gathering up the pieces of his chainsaw, he loaded his cart with them and the few chunks of cut wood. It made a pitiful load for a day’s work, but he whistled cheerfully as he headed off down the trail towards home. Tonight, he would find a way to fix the chain and tomorrow would be a fresh start. There was no reason for him to be upset, he reminded himself sternly. All was well.

  The sounds of his sled dog team barking and yipping drew him through the tightly packed trees. He didn’t like bringing them out into the woods when he was cutting firewood. The dogs loved running down rabbit trails and harassing squirrels as he worked, but they were blissfully unaware of the danger of falling trees. A near death experience finally convinced him they were better off staying home.

  Saber, who was supposed to be his lead dog, was almost killed when a misdirected tree bounced off another and fell close enough to the dog to knock him head over heels. By the time Graham reached Saber, he was up and shaking himself from head to tail looking pretty confused about his tumble. Except for a few nasty scrapes, he was unharmed, but Graham’s nerves were shot for the rest of that day.

  Graham was interested in having every part of the Alaska wilderness experience, and dog sledding seemed like an important part of that vision. When he arrived in Alaska and found a place to call home, he’d dutifully bought an old dog sled and four dogs intending to train them to be a crack team. He was assured by the breeder that Saber was born and bred to be a champion lead dog. Somebody apparently forgot to clue the dog into this little factoid. He was much better at herding the other dogs than he was at leading them along a
trail.

  Without a leader to direct the team, the four dogs quickly found interesting ways to tangle themselves up as they headed in different directions. Graham spent more time shouting expletives than commands, and the dogs were always confused. He eventually realized he was as much a part of the problem as the dogs. Confessing to himself that he didn’t know anything about sled dogs or how to train a team was the first step towards a better relationship with them.

  When he became completely honest about his dogs, they were less inclined to pull a dog sled and more interested in their favorite spot on his bed. It didn’t take him too long to realize his dogs were all in the category of ‘rejects’. He figured those kennel owners saw him coming a mile away as they extolled the virtues of the dogs they sold him, knowing full well those dogs were useless for anything beyond being chowhounds.

  Eventually, he parked the sled in the corner of the yard hoping to sell it someday. After a couple of winters sitting in its parking spot, one of the runners pulled itself loose and the squirrels chewed off all the lashings. Now, it was only good as a place for stacking up logs to be cut for special uses.

  In the cold of the first winter, the dogs quickly abandoned their private little shacks in exchange for a spot next to the wood stove. From there, they eventually squeezed themselves onto the corners of his bed and the five of them slept cozily through the cold winter nights. Graham didn’t want to think about what his relationship with his dogs would mean if he was ever again romantically involved. What woman would be willing to share her bed with me and four rangy dogs that snored?he wondered more than once.

  As he drew closer to home, the frantic sounds of barking and whining increased. It was clear to anyone listening someone or something was coming. Out here, he was fairly confident that someone was just him. There wasn’t another human being within miles of his homestead most of the time. The dogs served as his welcoming committee whenever he left them and came back. He dared not think of what would happen to them if he didn’t.

  As the trail opened up into the clearing he called home, Graham took a deep breath as he carefully scanned the area. While it was a pretty sure thing the dogs were just barking in anticipation of his arrival, it wasn’t a good idea to depend on that. He’d seen enough bear and moose poking around the edges of the clearing when he was safe inside the cabin. It was always at the back of his mind to avoid walking into the clearing and finding it already occupied.

  So far, he’d managed to keep up a good relationship with his neighbors. They minded their business and he kept out of their way. Taking care of his trash and burning anything that might draw the bears to investigate as a possible food source was a priority. The moose were fairly shy of him and weren’t inclined to spend much time in his clearing. His garden was well-fenced and the dog enclosure next to it served fair warning to them. Any smaller animals were on their own as far as he was concerned, as the dogs loved giving chase to whatever happened along.

  Seeing nothing unusual in the area, he pulled his cart over to the wood stacked along one wall of his cabin. The dogs were frantically barking to be let out as soon as they caught sight of him. He hurried over to set them free hoping they’d run off some energy and let him get some work done before the end of the day. Of course, each dog needed a scratch and a belly rub accompanied by an explanation of why he’d left them behind.

  Saber waited for the other three to finish before adding his complaint and getting his back scratched. It was a silly routine, but it was one thing that made him feel like he actually mattered to four other living beings. He knew letting the dogs stand in the place of his two children was a cheap substitution, but he had no other recourse. Their mother used every legal resource at hand to make sure he would never be a part of their lives again. He’d finally convinced himself she was right and they were better off without him.

  Admitting to himself that he missed them was one step closer to giving in to the thought of how much he’d failed at being a husband and a father. It was better out here not to think about the past and stay focused on what needed to be done to survive what lay ahead. Winter was always coming or upon him and this was life or death. Nothing else needed to be given any room to trip him up.

  ***

  Supper wasn’t fancy out here in the bush. He wasn’t so far off the grid that he couldn’t get to a store, but everything he bought had to be packed in on his back or his cart. Having a working sled dog team might have made things easier, but since what he had worked for his needs, he figured there was no demand for improvement.

  His gardening skills were sub-par and he just barely managed to grow salad greens, cabbage and kale with a few carrots and tomatoes if he was diligent. The nearby river provided plenty of fish for the taking and a moose kill or caribou lasted a long time between him and the dogs. The dogs added some of their own variety by snacking on whatever squirrels or rabbits fell into their clutches. He was glad for that as it saved his greens from the little ‘fur-bites’ as he liked to call them.

  He figured with his small needs and limited cooking skills, he was doing okay. If he wanted to call a can of beans supper, that's what he did. This was just a part of his new lifestyle and he never really needed a burger and fries anyway. He did occasionally miss out on having a big plate of fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, but that was a part of another life. Food was simply the fuel needed to get through the day’s work, he would remind himself when those memories started to get to him.

  After supper, he’d sit at the table and work on whatever little project had taken up residence on it. Tonight it would be the chain from his saw that held his attention until he was sure sleep would hold him captive until dawn. It didn’t pay for him to go to bed too early. Lying there awake gave him too much time to think about things best left unthought-of, and he was careful to avoid doing that.

  Chapter 2

  Graham was poking what was passing for breakfast around on his plate when Pylon gave out a little whine. Figuring the little beggar was looking for a handout, he didn’t bother to look up. Feeding these four off his plate would put him in a world of hurt as he barely managed to eat enough to keep up his own strength at times.

  The sound of a throat clearing right in front of him had him on his feet and reaching for his gun in one swift move. As his eyes met those of his friend, Ravensong, he was embarrassed to realize the man had been standing there for several minutes already. He could never figure out why his stupid dogs never barked when this Athabascan Native was headed their way. They always barked when he was coming home. Everyone else coming down that trail received a loud welcoming chorus of barks and howling.

  Ravensong walked into the clearing as if he owned the place and the dogs recognized his authority. It drove him literally crazy when he thought about it. It’s not like the guy came once a week, or even once a month, but when he did, it was the same every time.

  “Brother! I don’t know how you do that, but I wish you’d either stop it or tell me,” Graham growled at his friend. “It makes me feel stupid when my dogs have more respect for a stranger than for the guy they sleep with every night.”

  “You sleep with your dogs?” Ravensong asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

  Graham shoveled in the last bite of his breakfast and ignored the question.

  Ravensong tossed a very large packet on the ground in front of him. The bold blue and white colors of the USPS tape barely held the bundle in check. When one of the seams burst, mail slid out at an alarming pace and scattered across the dirt. Graham groaned at the mess.

  “Grayling says there’s no point in having a post office box if you’re not going to come in and clear it out once in a while. She can't hold this stuff forever, you know.”

  “It’s not like I get any real mail anyway,” Graham grumbled. “I’m willing to bet everything in that pile is either marked ‘Resident’ or some other junk mail descriptor.”

  “You’re lucky I’m not a betting man or I’d take you u
p on that and you’d owe me big time. I happen to know for a fact Grayling tossed all that extraneous junk away to make room for this fire starter, and you should be grateful to her cause she’d get in trouble if anyone knew she did that for you.”

  Graham reached out and grabbed the nearest pile of mail and began sorting through it. Sure enough, every credit card offer and discount mailer was addressed to him personally. He wondered how they’d managed to link his name and post office box here in Alaska to the man he used to be back in Illinois. Even way out here in the bush, the system managed to keep their clutches on his life.

  Knowing this was a pointless exercise when everything here was just going straight into the burn bin unopened, he barely focused on the return addresses flashing by as he flipped through the envelopes.

  Most of his attention was on Ravensong as he strolled around the clearing checking on Graham's progress. He would have been embarrassed to admit he was hoping for some nod of recognition or a word of praise on the work he had accomplished. His own father had been stingy with such words and quick to find fault with anything he was doing. He’d given up hope of pleasing the man by the time he was fifteen. By then he knew he was a disappointment.

  He paused in his sorting as Ravensong picked up the chain saw and noted the mend on the chain. Picking up a file laying nearby, he scraped a couple of edges on the mend, smoothing them out and then laid it aside.

  “Good repair,” was all he said, but it was gold in Graham’s ears.

  Noting the unfamiliar feel of heavy paper, (the kind lawyer’s like to use), Graham looked down at the envelope in his hands. Sure enough. It was from that fancy legal firm his ex-wife liked so much. He sat there feeling like that moment when the sky is heavily overcast and there’s this tiny little gap that lets the sun peek through and then just as quickly it’s gone again.