Page 3 of Thunder Pass

The truck door opened, and a leg clad in work pants and steel-toed boots emerged. Ruth stopped dead. That leg looked vaguely familiar. But it couldn’t be. It was impossible. She peered closer, trying to make out the man’s features.

He gave a hand signal and all five of the dogs went quiet and settled onto their haunches. They only did that for one man.

In shock, Ruth watched as he stepped out of the truck and closed the door, then bent to greet the dogs he’d raised and trained. Now there was no doubt.

Luke Chilkoot—patriarch, mastermind, visionary, criminal, and her father—was back.

2

“Have you heard the big news?”

Gunnar slid the crawler from underneath Martha’s 1999 Ford Ranger, where he’d been replacing the starter. He really should have trained the population of Firelight Ridge better, he grumbled silently as he emerged from the peace and quiet of the undercarriage. Everyone felt they could walk into his garage at any moment and just start talking.

Which didn’t used to be a problem, but for some reason, lately he’d been crabbier than normal. Customer beware.

Old Pinky stood over him, in his stained coveralls and weather-beaten baseball cap. Had his T-100 finally crapped the bed? Or maybe one of his two ancient Saabs? Possibly his four-wheeler, or his vintage ATV, or hell, maybe even the fat-tire bicycle he used to wheel through town in all kinds of weather.

Pinky was a good old guy, so Gunnar wrestled his irritation into a smile. “Hiya, Pinky. Don’t tell me, let me guess. TNG Corp is going to buy up the whole town and turn us into Westworld, Alaska version.”

“Huh? What’s that?”

Too complicated to explain, Gunnar thought. “It’s about Fire Peak Lodge, isn’t it? Is some movie star staying there? Is Julia Ormond back for another face-off with the mosquitoes?”

The entire community had been thrilled to learn they had a celebrity guest in town a few summers ago. Then they’d been equally crushed to hear that she’d cut her visit short after a rare allergic reaction to an excess of mosquito toxin.

Pinky sighed sadly at the reminder. “Them mosquitoes really gotta ruin everything, don’t they. She was the most famous person who ever came here.”

“Many celebrities come incognito, you know.”

“It ain’t a celebrity or nothing like that. Come to think about it, maybe he is, cause his name was in the paper and everyone knows him. It’s not like he’s famous for anything good, though. You gonna try another guess now?”

Gunnar thought back over all the wild things that had happened here over the past year and a half. “Something to do with Adam Hardwell, the one running for Senate?”

“Good guess, but nope. Also, it ain’t anyone dead even though they got their name in the paper.”

“That’s good to know. The zombie apocalypse hasn’t hit Alaska yet.”

Pinky cackled at a reference he finally recognized. “If it does, we’ll be ready. No place I’d rather be for the apocalypse.”

Gunnar got to his feet and reached for a rag to wipe off his hands. While he loved working on engines, the constant smell of motor oil and related fluids got to him after a while, so he was obsessive about clean rags and GoJo. “I give in, Pinky. What’s the big news? Don’t make me wait for the newsletter. I think Frank got bored with that project.”

“It’s Luke,” Pinky blurted out, his watery blue eyes alight with the thrill of gossip.

Gunnar paused in the midst of wiping his hands. “Luke Chilkoot? Not possible. He’s in prison.”

“Not now, he ain’t. Must have a real good lawyer, or maybe the Feds screwed up. He just got back the other day. Notice how you ain’t seen any of them Chilkoots around town?”

The only Chilkoot Gunnar paid any attention to was Ruth. He’d been keeping an eye out for her out of habit, even though she’d ghosted him without a second thought. Now that Pinky mentioned it, it was true that he hadn’t seen her in town lately.

“So what’s that all about?” he asked Pinky.

“Seems like Luke wants everything to go back to how it was, except even more so. No more contact with the rest of us, except if they really need to, like when they have to fuel up. That’s why I thought you might know already.” He gestured vaguely to the outside, where there were two fuel pumps, one for gas, one for diesel.

“No, I didn’t know.” Gunnar tossed his rag onto a work bench, suddenly in a sour mood. What would this mean for Ruth? In the time since Luke had left, he’d seen more of her—and the other younger Chilkoots—than he had in his entire twenty-seven years. In that short time, she’d gone from so shy she could barely meet his eyes to a poised and mature woman. She was now the one who made decisions for the younger kids, which meant that the others deferred to her and gave her much more respect—grudging, in some cases, but still respect.

She’d even begun dressing differently. Fewer shapeless skirts and more sweaters that actually showed off her slender curves. Ruth had an understated beauty, the kind that seemed to grow the longer you looked at her. Which he’d been doing a lot of every chance he got—until that kiss disaster.

“I wonder if someone should go check on them,” he murmured. By which he meant Ruth, of course, though Pinky didn’t need to know that.

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