Estratto. © Riproduzione autorizzata. Diritti riservati.
There was a stranger in town.
His keen sight picked her out from his vantage atop one of the rocky cliffs that formed sentinels on either side of the narrow two-lane highway that led into town. From here he could see the main street with its clumps of buildings, a warren of human habitation surrounded by wilderness. There were people moving about as there always were, even in this isolated place—but she stood out. She was different. An outsider. The townsfolk of Lovell, British Columbia, might not care for strangers, but he occasionally had use for them. At least the women …
His long suntanned fingers stroked slowly through the dense fur of the wolf beside him. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed the company of a woman, and the desires that had awakened with the coming of spring had not been satisfied. There were women in town who would share his bed, who would be more than willing to overlook his reputation. But he had long ago lost any appetite for the entanglements that came with local relationships. The few times he’d tried it hadn’t been worth the trouble.
And he’d been alone so long.…
The wolf under his stroking hand shifted and whined softly. With a murmured apology he released his grip on the heavy mane behind the animal’s neck. He didn’t care that the townsfolk regarded him with suspicion; they were not his kind. But their distrust limited his choices. When winter drifted into spring and the need came on him, there was only one way to meet it. Hikers and adventurers and tourists out to see their last chunk of real wilderness came year by year to Lovell’s single lodge, and nearly always there were women among them willing to share his cabin and bed. But this year had been a lean one. Until yesterday.
And she was lovely. It hadn’t been difficult to find her desirable.
It had been easy to observe her, to mark her out from the rest. She shone among the townsfolk, a flame among ashes, luring his senses with an undeniable attraction. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d seen, but there was a vitality about her that burned as brightly as the sun on her hair.
He smiled slowly, a slight upcurve of lips that seldom resorted to the expression. Yes, she would do very well.
The wolf interrupted his reverie with an impatient thrust of its muzzle under his hand. Intelligent eyes, pale and rimmed in black, met his questioningly. He drew his hand over the broad forehead and scratched between the triangular ears. The wolf closed its eyes and stretched with a yawn that revealed rows of sharp teeth. Then it straightened, yipped once, and turned in a tight circle.
The impatient gesture drew a rough chuckle from the man. “Yes, my friend. Don’t let me keep you from important business.” The wolf waved its tail once in answer and sat on its haunches, regarding him. “I won’t be joining you now. I’ve got other game today.” He turned again to gaze at the town, though the woman had long since disappeared. “I haven’t done this kind of hunting in some time—and I think this one might prove to be a challenge. I’ll have to be careful to stay downwind until I’ve caught her.”
Anticipation tightened his muscles, and the wolf yipped again. “Go. I’ll find you later. We’ll have to plan this carefully—and keep an eye on her in the meantime.” He pushed gently at the wolf, and the beast whirled and vanished like a gray phantom.
The sun rose higher, limning the serrated hillsides to the east with radiant yellow light against deep blue-green. The mountains beyond caught the illumination with the brilliance of a diamond. He breathed in the crisp air, savoring the myriad scents of a new day. Before it ended, he planned to know more about the stranger—and begin his hunt.
Joelle Randall didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautiful.
The long slope, carpeted in wildflowers, released a heady perfume on the cool air of late summer. Conifers bordered the meadow like the watchful sentries of a vast army, marching up the slopes of surrounding mountains—sharp peaks streaked with the white of perpetual ice. Just out of sight were lakes of perfect crystal blue, fed by streams that cut their way over jumbled rocks and through forests almost as pristine as the day they were created.
Joey drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. It was hard to believe so much beauty could conceal, somewhere among its secret corners, the tragedy that had left her alone in the world. Somewhere in these mountains and valleys lay the key to freeing her heart of its long-held burden.
Freedom. Joey took another deep breath of scented air. That was all she had left, the hope of resolving the old sorrow at last. It could never be finished—not until she found the place where her parents had died.
Even now, that word was hard to acknowledge. They’d left her, without a good-bye, without giving her a chance to tell them how much she loved them. She’d only been a kid then: sixteen, still at that vulnerable age, so close to her parents when they’d left on their final journey.
If it hadn’t been for a freak storm, the kind of accident even the most experienced pilot couldn’t always avoid—Joey clenched her fists, feeling the sudden sharp twist of painful memory. Her father had been careful, she knew that; he’d been flying for years, and the small plane had been meticulously kept up. Not his fault that they’d gone down in these mountains they’d loved, never to be found.…
Opening her eyes, Joey pushed back the sadness and focused on the resolve that had kept her going during the past months.
This was the turning point, the time that she would take back her life at last. She would find the place where they had been lost, confront that crippling sorrow, let the clear mountain winds carry her good-byes over the wilderness. There was nothing, now, to hold her back.
She looked down at the half-finished sketch in her lap. She knew she’d made the right decision to leave her architect’s job in San Francisco, no matter how comfortable and lucrative. There’d been too much waiting, too much wasting of her life in a vain effort to find the security her parents’ death had taken from her.
Even Richard—what she’d had with Richard had been a desperate grasp at replacing something of what had been lost, restoring some meaning to her life. She’d still been young, vulnerable, so full of need; he’d seemed strong, controlled, everything she thought she’d wanted then. But she’d grown up, found that security could be an illusion, control a trap. And all the empty places in her heart had not been filled.…
She tossed her head angrily. That was behind her, and well left behind. There could be no more dull security to cover the hurt. No, she wouldn’t think of Richard. No regrets. From now on she’d be in control of her own life.
Absently she set down her sketchpad and caressed one of the vivid blossoms at her feet. It was a deep pink shooting star, one of many wildflowers that turned the mountain hillsides into brilliant canvases from late spring through early autumn. She’d had ample time to study just about every kind of wildflower from the very first blooms after the snowmelt; but now the summer was fading, and all the beauty of Nature couldn’t change that unalterable fact.
When she’d come to these mountains in the spring, she’d been confident of finding what she sought before midsummer. But after searching several of the most likely areas in this stretch of the Rockies, she faced the very real possibility of failure. This was her last hope—this town, this valley, and the wild stretches of surrounding mountains. If they weren’t here … She bit her lip, hard.
She had to find them. They had to be here. Time was running out. Here in the north, the time of blue skies and green growing things—and passable trails—was all too brief. City-bred she might be, but she understood that once the first snows fell, her quest would be over for the year. That was simply a thought she could not bear.
In an effort to clear her head, Joey focused on her breathing and steadied it until her pulse had slowed again. No smog here—no fumes, no constant racket of cars and human clamor. Here, away from the town, it was easy to pretend you were the last person on earth. Joey grimaced to herself. She might be savoring that feeling if it hadn’t been for the constant worries that hung over her. She’d been waiting for her local guide now—one she’d hired in the last town—for over a week. If he didn’t show up soon …
Her brooding thoughts were interrupted by a pale flash of movement among the trees at the foot of the slope below. It wasn’t a deer—that much she was sure of—but it wasn’t something immediately recognizable to her unpracticed eye. She reached down to the binoculars at her belt. Fixing the location of the elusive shape in her mind, Joey unhooked them and focused on the blue-green blur of trees that marked the lower boundary of the meadow.
Close up, the details leaped to life in her vision: individual Douglas fir, spruce, and pine with a scattered understory of shrubs and brush. She almost passed over the pale shape the first time she caught it in her sights, hurriedly readjusting until she had it in focus again. Her breath tangled in her throat.
A wolf—a great gray timber wolf—stood absolutely still in the half-concealment of a larchberry bush. Joey’s hands tightened on the binoculars to steady them. Her first wolf. All this time in the mountains and she’d never seen one, though she’d heard them in the summer nights, shivering in spite of herself at their eerie chorus. She knew they were elusive, uncommon even in protected areas. But to see one here, alone, in broad daylight …
Joey studied the wolf intently. It was huge—even from this distance, she could tell that—and its coat was lush and heavy, pale on the belly and legs, shot with silver and gray and black across the back and masking the face. The triangular ears were alert, the bushy tail slightly raised. It seemed to be watching, or waiting. For prey, perhaps? Joey moved the binoculars to get a clearer look at the pale, tilted eyes. She nearly dropped them in astonishment. The wolf seemed to be staring straight at her.
