I’m hoping they’ll drop it at that. They don’t, and I have to admit I’d have been surprised if they did. Strangers were camping in the region where they’re mining for gold. They’re going to be just as suspicious as we are, and it doesn’t help us here that we can’t tell them who we saw and possibly soothe their paranoia.
I’m not sure it would help anyway. Yes, a couple in these woods is less suspicious than a group or a lone person. Yes, one of them was injured. But we’d still been suspicious, so they would, too. And one reason we aren’t telling them is because we don’t want them running off after what seem to be innocent hikers.
That encounter between our groups that went bad ended with them sharpshooting one of their own guards. Oh, they had their reasons, but it still means we are not putting them on Gretchen and Blake’s trail.
They ask a bunch of questions, mostly about where the trail led, in which direction and where did we think they might be headed. Dalton bullshits his way through it while I sit with Storm and Anders pokes about the clearing as if checking for more clues.
Finally, Dalton sighs. “Would you like us to have the dog follow the trail farther?”
“If you don’t mind,” the older guard says.
“Then head back and tell Mr. Rogers that we’ll swing by and update him.”
“Mr. Rogers?” the younger one says.
The older one grins. “That’s what they call the boss. Because he’s such a friendly neighbor.”
His partner frowns, as if too young to get the reference.
After a moment, the younger man says, “One other thing. Do you guys have another dog in town?”
“Yes…” Dalton says slowly.
“Looks like a wolf?”
Dalton makes a noncommittal noise. We do have a second dog—Raoul—and he is half wolf. But he’s also half Australian shepherd, and looks like it, which is why Dalton would suspect that’s not who they mean.
“See?” the younger man says to his partner. “I told you it was a dog.” He looks at us. “We thought we spotted a gray wolf. Then someone whistled and it ran off.”
“Ah. Yeah, that’d be ours. Half wolf.”
“Cool. Okay, so we’ll head back and let, uh, Mr. Rogers know.”
The older man nods. “If you could track whoever it is for a couple of miles, that’ll make the boss happy—as long as those miles are in the other direction. I’ll call the rest of the guys in.”
Dalton grunts in what could be agreement, and we watch them go before setting Storm back on the trail.
We do follow the trail farther. Dalton grumbles about that, but he doesn’t actually suggest we lie about doing it, so I know he’s only grumbling. On the one hand, I’m ready to get back to my baby. On the other, going farther might be wise, just so we aren’t back in town wondering whether we did enough to ensure the hikers really were gone.
We don’t track the full two miles. After about half that, we swing north. We agreed to speak to Mr. Rogers, but we also need to talk to someone else—the real owner of that “dog” the guards mistook for a wolf.
It was almost certainly an actual wolf, one belonging to thewoman who calls herself Lilith, our resident nature photographer. Why is there a woman living with a wolf in the wilderness? Because it’s the Yukon. People come here for all kinds of reasons, and unless they’re living in one of the towns, you don’t ask why. That’s none of your damn business.
So far, Lilith has managed to avoid catching the miners’ attention, but it makes us nervous, having her out here alone near a camp full of men. It makes her nervous, too, though she’d never admit it.
Her cabin is on the edge of our territory, and that’s where she hunts and fishes and hikes, having self-declared everything west off-limits. I can only imagine how frustrating that must be. Two years ago, she had this endless wilderness to herself. Now she has two settlements sharing her land, and only one of them is friendly.
We need to speak to her—both about the miners seeing Nero and about the hikers. So we leave the trail and head onto a route that will take us her way, and from there, we can go south to the mining camp.
I also consider letting Dalton and Anders handle Rogers, while I go back with Storm. Yes, having a baby means my priorities are split these days, but it’s a matter of splitting them the right way. Having me along on this part of the excursion—and talking to Lilith—is important, but with Rogers, I’d probably just hang back and let Dalton handle it. Anders can watch his back.
Getting to Lilith’s requires a bit of mild mountaineering. We’ve gone north, which is where Anders had gotten some elevation earlier. It’s the foothills of a mountain. Honestly, I’m never really sure what qualifies as a mountain versus a foothill up here. Mostly, if it’s really tall and has snow on the top at this time of year, I call it a mountain. If we can hike to the summitwithout gear, it’s a foothill. I’m sure the distinction would have a geologist rolling their eyes.
For the “foothill” we’re on, it’s about a two-hour climb to the summit and tough going but well worth it for the views. We’re sticking along the edge now. We aren’t talking as we walk—we don’t want to alert Rogers’s men again. It’s a silent trek east, and when Storm slows, sniffing the air, we notice right away.
I bend beside her. “Smell something?”
She keeps sniffing, with a look I recognize as wary puzzlement. She smells something, but either it’s faint or she’s not sure whether it’s a concern.
