Perhaps she'd been too casual, too certain of her own competence. This was not her world, and it might send her warnings—but it would never defeat her or scare her away. She would win. She'd set a goal, and she always did what she set out to do.
She almost didn't notice when the wolf disappeared, just short of the light cast by the windows of Lovell's first outlying cabins.
The warm wooden paneling of the O'Briens' guest lodge was a welcoming sight as Joey pushed open the heavy door and entered the common room. It was deserted, but the rich smells of recent cooking hung in the air, and Joey felt her stomach rumble in response. She'd probably just missed dinner, but even after so short a time she knew Mrs O'Brien well enough to expect that a sizable portion had been set aside for her return.
The O'Briens had been attentive hosts during the past week of her stay in Lovell, guests were sparse this late in the summer, and they'd taken a great deal of trouble to make her feel welcome. In turn Joey had spent the quiet evening hours regaling them with tales of city life, much to their amusement and fascination. Lovell, B.C. , was a very long way from San Francisco, California.
As Joey shut the door behind her, Mrs O'Brien swept into the room, her arms full of clean linen. Her faded gray eyes peered over the stack as she caught sight of Joey and hurried to put the neatly folded cloth on the nearest table.
"There you are!" she exclaimed "We were wondering what happened to you."
Joey smiled and made her way across the room to a worn easy chair, settling into it with a sigh It felt like heaven.
She looked up at Mrs O'Brien. "Nothing too exciting by local standards, I suppose," she said, deliberately casual. "I was out on the hillside, and I managed to fall asleep. When I woke up, I had company." Her smile turned to a wry grimace. "I know I should have been a lot more careful, but I never thought a wild wolf would come right up to me and—"
"A wolf?" Mrs O'Briens friendly voice went strange, her expression drawing tight and closed.
"Yes," Joey affirmed, watching the older woman's face in puzzlement. "A lone wolf, a big gray one—it just sat there and stared at me It didn't try to attack, or threaten me in any way. After a while I tried moving, and the wolf actually seemed to... " She broke off, embarrassed. Mrs O'Brien's reaction was very odd, and Joey felt rather foolish. "I know it sounds pretty ridiculous, but I would almost swear the wolf was trying to lead me back to town."
Mrs O'Brien shook her head. "That wolf," she muttered. "That damned wolf." For a moment she seemed lost in her own troubled thoughts, and then she pursed her lips and turned back to Joey with a frown ."You want my advice, Joey? You watch out for those wolves. Can't trust 'em." Still muttering and shaking her head, the older woman retrieved her linens and bustled out of the room. "I'll go heat up your dinner. Those damned wolves..."
Staring after her, Joey shrugged and leaned back into the chair. Mrs O'Brien clearly didn't like wolves, but this one hadn't done Joey any harm. In any case, she had more important things on her mind at the moment. A hot meal and a hot bath could do wonders at the end of a long and somewhat unsettling day; there were still a few of the benefits of civilization to be had here in the wilds of the north, and for that she was profoundly grateful.
But, she reminded herself, she'd learned an important lesson today. Face-to-face with a powerful timber wolf, she'd managed to keep her head. If nothing else, it proved she could do what she'd set out to do—she'd just have to be a little more careful from now on. If the wilderness had seduced her into forgetting her natural caution, she'd be sure not to let it happen again. Things were going to go her way. With the proper planning life was a lot less likely to deal nasty and unexpected blows. This had just been a reminder.
Mrs O'Brien broke into her reverie with the concrete distraction of a hot home-cooked dinner. Joey started into the generous meal with enthusiasm. She was just finishing the last bit of bread and home-made jam when the local doctor, Allan Collier, emerged from the hallway.
"As I said, Martha, don't worry about Harry. Just give him a couple more days in bed, and he'll be good as new."
Joey politely turned her attention to the business of stacking her plates as the doctor spent several minutes reassuring Mrs O'Brien that her husband's condition was not serious. She dropped off her dishes in the kitchen, and when she returned, Collier was alone in the common room, consulting a small appointment book with a pencil clenched in his teeth.
The doctor was a man of middle years, a little younger than Mrs O'Brien, with a face still bearing the traces of a handsome youth. His eyes were generously marked with laugh lines, but there was a sadness about him that Joey had seen from the first, the day she'd been introduced to him by the O'Briens. Dr Collier was the town's only doctor and one of the few serving the surrounding region, and so was a valued local figure, Joey had also seen immediately why he was also well-liked. In many ways he reminded her of her own father.
"Hello, Doctor," she said, leaning against the serving counter that ran between the dining area and the kitchen. Collier blinked, the pencil dropping from his mouth. He caught it in midfall and smiled at her warmly.
"Good evening, Miss Randall. Nice to see you again." Closing the notebook with a snap, he tucked it into the black bag resting on the counter. "How are your plans progressing?"
"A little slower than I'd like," Joey admitted. Collier cocked his head with an inquiring look that invited trust; he gestured her over to a cluster of chairs near the fireplace.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he murmured as they settled into a pair of mismatched armchairs. His gentle fingers stroked the worn leather of the doctor's bag in his lap. "Martha tells me you had a little encounter with a wolf today." He raised his arched brows and looked her over significantly. "Obviously it wasn't a fatal one, for all of Martha's dire pronouncements."
His conspiratorial smile seemed to release the last of Joey's remaining tension, she chuckled in spite of herself. "I guess I was a little careless," she admitted. "I always thought that wild animals were shy."
"Most of them are," Collier said. There was an odd, distant note to his voice. "Though there are times..." He fell silent, his gaze turning inward, and when it became clear he was drifting in his own thoughts, Joey leaned forward to interrupt.
"Then that wasn't normal behavior, was it?" she asked softly. Collier's attention came back to her with a snap. "The way the wolf seemed to want me to come back to town—brought me almost all the way to the lodge."
He gazed at her for a long moment. There was sudden tautness in the long fingers that closed about the handles of his black bag. "It's hard to predict the ways of Nature, even when you've lived with it all your life," he answered at last. Joey sensed evasion, though she could not have explained the feeling. Like Mrs O'Brien's peculiar reaction.
"I was wondering if anyone else here in town had observed that kind of behavior," she remarked, watching his face "Could it have been one of those semidomesticated wolves? Someone's pet?"
Collier's laugh almost startled her, breaking the odd moment of tension. "I seriously doubt that, Miss Randall. There are places where wolves are raised with people, and I've heard that wolf dogs are popular pets down South. But here—no, I very much fear that was a wild wolf you ran into, and the only explanation I can offer is that all wild animals are somewhat unpredictable."
In spite of the doctor's casual words, Joey knew he was holding something back. "What I don't understand, Doctor, is why that wolf got so close to me, as if it weren't afraid of humans at all. And I got the distinct impression that Mrs O'Brien was upset when I mentioned it. Has there been some kind of trouble with wolves here before?"
Dr Collier shifted in his chair, a restlessness he masked as a stretch. "There are quite a number of people in this part of the country who don't much care for wolves," he explained, looking away at the racks of antlers displayed above the hearth. "At one time they were hunted almost to extinction, and they still have a bad reputation with some folk. Old habits die hard."
He sighed "They're protected in many areas now, but it's still quite possible to find places where they are hunted down by human sportsmen."
His gray brows drew together as he spoke, the pleasant aspect of his expression slipping subtly into something darke.r It was anger—a slow, hidden anger as inexplicable as Mrs O'Brien's antipathy. "It's human nature for people to want to master, or destroy, what they can't control or understand."
For a beat the anger lay revealed in his face, and then the good-natured mask replaced it again. "In any case," he said briskly, "that probably accounts for Mrs O'Brien's reaction. You'll find similar opinions in town. But in answer to your earlier question—no, there hasn't been any trouble for some time. Not with wolves." Gathering his long legs under him, Collier rose to his feet "My advice is to stay alert and keep your eyes open whenever you're out in the wild."
Joey managed a distracted smile, still considering the doctor's vague explanations. "Don't worry, Dr Collier I won't let it happen again. It was definitely a learning experience—and I'm a pretty fast learner."
"I've no doubt of that," he murmured. Abruptly he looked directly into her eyes, searching them intently. "In many ways this is a world very different from what you're used to. If I can be of any help, Miss Randall—"
"Joey Call me Joey," she interjected, extending her hand.
He took it in a strong, gentle grip. "Only if you'll call me Allan. And if I can ever be of assistance, Joey, please let me know." He held the clasp a moment longer and then let her go, gathered up his bag, and headed for the door. Pausing on the threshold, he gave her a nod and a smile before disappearing into the night.
Joey sighed. Her bones and muscles ached from the day's hiking, she was more than ready for that long hot bath. The lodge was silent now, and there was nothing left but to set aside her worries for one more day. Working the kinks out of her legs, Joey walked across the empty room and hoped for a peaceful span of untroubled sleep.
That night she dreamed of wolves.
When Joey came down to breakfast the next morning, it was with the sense that things were about to change.
She greeted Mrs O'Brien with a quick stop by the kitchen and gazed around the small dining room. The lodge's two other guests were already getting up from their meal, and Joey was content to have the place to herself. As she settled down at a table, Mrs O'Brien brought out a steaming mug of coffee and tipped her bifocals to regard Joey with raised brows.
"Looks like you're none the worse for wear. That's good." She bustled among the tables to clear the other places and added on her way out, "I hope flapjacks suit you this morning. You're the last one down." Joey choked on a mouthful of coffee in an attempt to answer, but the older woman had already disappeared into the kitchen.
The smell of pancakes and real maple syrup preceded her as she returned to set a full loaded plate in front of her guest. As Joey began to eat, Mrs O'Brien fished in the wide pocket of her apron and drew out a slightly crumpled envelope.
"I forgot to give you this last night. Came for you in yesterday's mail." She set the envelope down on the table and swept out of the room again.
Chewing hastily and wiping her fingers, Joey studied the envelope eagerly. There was no return address. That was strange in itself, but as she tore it open and scanned the short, handwritten lines, its significance became all too clear. "Damn!" She crumpled the note into a tight ball and tossed it across the table. It was entirely too much. The pancake she'd consumed lay like a lead weight in her stomach.
For a moment she allowed herself to experience the full brunt of anger and despair. She dropped her head in her hands, uncaring that the end of her braid was close to trailing in sticky syrup.
She should have known better—better than to trust that so-called "guide" in East Fork. Some well-meaning soul had taken pity on her and anonymously written to let her know that her hired mountaineer had vanished two weeks ago with all his belongings, heading east. Away from Joey. With the money she'd already paid him to secure his services. And the anonymous note made clear that he'd left no forwarding address that a foolish city girl might use to track him.
Joey struggled to control her rage, pushing it back under the surface bit by bit until she was able to raise her head and present a placid face to the empty room. The angry tears never spilled from her eyes. She'd learned long ago to rein in her emotions, lest they destroy what peace of mind she'd been able to make for herself over the years.
She'd always prided herself on her practicality. Facts were facts. She had no guide, and she was going to have to have one to reach her goal. Time was running out. That meant she'd have to secure a replacement—a local replacement—and quickly. Lovell wasn't a big town, but surely she could find someone able to guide her into the nearby mountains, someone willing to take a little outsider money and indulge her eccentric desire.
After this last experience she'd have to be careful, but she couldn't afford to be overly selective, either. Nothing had really changed. She'd lost a little money, but that could be dealt with. There was only one important goal now, and that was to find her guide.
Night came altogether too quickly here in the north, Joey reflected grimly. Another day wasted, and no concrete leads on a replacement for her runaway mountaineer. She'd met with sympathy, indifference, and even ridicule among the townsfolk she'd questioned, but not a shred of real success. Someone knew somebody's cousin who might be willing to help—but that somebody was out of town for two weeks. Old Jack used to do that kind of thing, but he'd retired three years ago.
Joey didn't like butting up against a brick wall. Not when she was so damned close.
Well, it was too late to do anything more. She stood in Lovell's main street, hugging herself against the evening coolness. With the shorter days came colder nights, and the chill nipped at Joey through her light jacket. Townsfolk passed by silently, ignoring her. Across the road the neon lights of Red's Tavern came on, promising warmth and some measure of companionship. Joey knew she didn't want to spend another night alone poring over her maps, berating herself for past mistakes, or listening to Mrs O'Brien's well-meant lectures. She needed more stimulating company tonight.
A blast of warm air swept over her as she entered the smoky room, carrying with it the unmistakable smell of alcohol and humanity. Joey made her way between the close-packed tables and over to the pockmarked wooden bar, where Maggie was busy mixing drinks for a boisterous group of drinkers in the corner. The blare of a sports program rose above laughter and loud conversation.
Joey leaned on the bar, loosening her jacket and scooting onto an empty stool. The redheaded barkeep looked up and grinned, tossing a mass of curly hair out of her eyes.
"Well, how are you, Joey? Glad you could drop by. Let me get this bunch taken care of, and I'll be right back."
With a graceful pivot Maggie pushed away from the bar balancing a fully laden tray of beer and liquor, and Joey watched her progress across the room, punctuated by well-intentioned ribaldry and the occasional rude remark. Maggie bore it all with far better grace than Joey could imagine herself doing. The rough comments of the largely male clientele did not appeal to her in the slightest.
Maggie dipped back behind the bar and pulled out a chilled bottle of white wine, pouring a glass for Joey with a smooth, practiced motion. Her playful expression acknowledged Joey's last censorious glance at the racket behind them. "Their bark is a lot worse than their bite. " The redhead shrugged, pulling her T-shirt tight against her bosom. "I'm used to it."
Joey found it impossible to maintain her grim mood in the face of Maggie's perpetual good cheer, and she grinned back. The wine was cool and soothing, even if it wasn't exactly top grade.
"You see, I made sure I had some of that wine for you. I know you're not the beer type." Maggie winked and turned back to acknowledge the shouted request of another patron.
Joey sipped at her wine, drawing patterns through the condensation on the scratched wood surface of the bar with her finger. Sh
e looked up again as a stream of wine gurgled into her glass, replacing what she'd already drunk.
"You look like you need it tonight," Maggie explained. She leaned over comfortably and gave her full attention to Joey. "I can tell it hasn't been a great day. Want to talk about it?" The warmth of her flaming hair and the matching warmth of her eyes and voice invited complete trust, and Joey felt some of the tension slide out of her.
She found herself telling Maggie everything—about the wolf, the note she'd received about her errant guide, and her fruitless search for a replacement. Maggie listened with real sympathy, breaking her attention only to deliver an occasional beer to a rowdy customer. The wine and good company were conspiring to make Joey feel considerably better.
"So now I'm really stuck, Maggie I haven't got that much time left." She sighed heavily and drained the last of the wine in her glass. "Any suggestions? I'm feeling a little desperate."
Maggie's cheerful face lengthened. "I can see you are. And you don't wear your heart on your sleeve the way I do, either." She chewed her full lower lip and studied her bright red nails. "Don't give up yet. Let me ask around a little—and you keep trying, too. Something may turn up. And you've still got a little time left." She hesitated, meeting Joey's eyes earnestly. "Did you ever consider maybe waiting until next year? You'd have plenty of time to prepare that way, and..."
"No." Joey kept her voice level, but her fist clenched on the countertop. "I can't. I've waited too long." With an effort she relaxed her hand. "I appreciate what you're saying, Maggie. But I've got to do it this way. If you can give me any help at all, I'll owe you."
Maggie reached across the bar and touched Joey's hand lightly. "I'll do what I can, I promise." A silence fell between them; Joey let the mild sedative of the wine calm her. Control. If she could just keep things under control.
PRINCE OF WOLVES Page 2
