Page 18 of Wind Valley

Lachlan shrugged as he rinsed out a glass for the red wine she’d ordered. “I know very little about the Chilkoots. They’re skeptical about scientists, although apparently they know plenty about explosives.”

At her startled expression, he added, “I’ll tell you that story another time. Go ahead with the wolf bite.”

“They were working on a path to their greenhouse when a man came zooming out of the woods on a snowmobile. He was bleeding and nearly incoherent. He practically fell off the snowmobile because his leg wasn’t working right. They took him into the longhouse and slathered him with antiseptics. They didn’t know who he was, and they’re not too crazy about strangers out there. So Elias offered to bring him into town to see Ani.”

Lachlan frowned, since Ani hadn’t mentioned a strange man getting bitten by a wolf. “Did he?”

“No, the man said he didn’t want to see a doctor, that he’d be fine. He said he was doing some surveying and was crouched down in the snow taking a reading when the wolf sprang at him out of nowhere.” Maura shivered and accepted the wine he slid across the counter toward her. She blew on it, which was her habit, as if the wine was steaming hot instead of the typical room temperature of all Fang beverages.

“A surveyor in the winter?”

“That’s what you get out of this whole story?” Maura’s deep blue eyes twinkled at him. “I was more interested in the wolf. Is it normal for wolves to attack out of the blue?”

“They usually avoid humans, as far as I know. What did Elias say? He probably knows more about the local wolf packs than I do.”

“He said he’d never heard of it happening. He says the wolves keep their distance from humans. Not even our food smells attract them because they have plenty of food in the Wrangells, even in the winter. People rarely lose their chickens around here. He figured it was a territorial thing.”

Lachlan thought about a colleague of his who studied gray wolves in the Canadian Rockies. “I can consult with a friend of mine and find out if that sounds likely.”

“That’d be great.” Maura closed her eyes as the buzz of the alcohol settled in. “Mmm, thanks for the wine. I’m lucky, you know? I’m sensitive to alcohol so I can only manage one glass a night, which saves money. I’m also very lucky that I’m not predisposed to becoming an alcoholic.”

“No alcoholism in your family?”

“None.” She opened her eyes. “The only things my parents are addicted to is coupon-cutting in the case of my mom and hedge-clipping in the case of my father. They’re both perfectly content just snip-snipping away at things.”

He smiled, enjoying Maura-after-a-sip-of-wine as much as he enjoyed every other version of Maura. They’d formed a tenuous friendship by now, one that still held plenty of things unsaid, which by mutual agreement they didn’t allow to derail their relationship.

“So it’s strange for a surveyor to be here in the winter?” she asked.

“I would think so. Most surveying happens in the summer. But I suppose for some areas it might be easier to get around once there’s a deep enough layer of snow for the snowmobile to travel on. But why would they survey anyway? Most of the land around here belongs to the National Park. Do you know where he was working? Did Elias say?”

“Apparently he asked the man, but all he said was ‘to the east.’ Pretty vague. I wonder…” She touched the tip of her tongue to her lips to gather a stray droplet of wine. He tried not to pay too close attention. “There hasn’t been a big snowstorm since then. Maybe we could go out there and follow his tracks.”

He cocked his head at her. “Just curious, why are you so interested?”

“In a random man getting attacked by a wolf?” She smiled a little. “Wouldn’t anyone be interested in that?”

“Sure, as a weird anecdote to tell your friends once you’re back in the outside world. It seems you’re taking it much further than that.”

She took a sip of wine and held it on her tongue. He watched her throat muscles move when she finally swallowed it down. “Have you ever felt completely helpless, Lachlan?”

“Sure. Hasn’t everyone? We’re born helpless. We’d die if our parents weren’t there to feed us and protect us.”

A hand wave at the other end of the bar caught his attention. “Be right back.”

After taking Martha’s order, he fetched a bowl of mushroom soup from the kitchen for her. As he handed it to her, he noticed she looked tired, and it occurred to him that the sheep farmer rarely ordered food from The Fang. She was in her early forties, a hard-working, strong woman with a kind face weathered into laugh-lines. As always, she wore a hat knitted from her own sheep’s wool, with cozy ear flaps that she’d bent upwards, now that she was inside.

“Is everything okay?” he asked her.

“Oh sure. Winter blues. You know how it is.”

“You love the winter,” he pointed out. “You’re always saying how annoying the summer is, between the tourists and the mosquitoes.”

“And the black flies. They’re almost as bad as the tourists.” A slight smile lightened her face. Then it vanished again and she gave a deep sigh. “I don’t know, Lachlan. I just don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Something was definitely going on with her.

“I can’t talk about it. It’s all confidential. Lawyers. They’re worse than the black flies. Except Molly,” she added quickly. “Gotta love Molly.”

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