Timberline Trail Read online

  The shivering stranger exasperatedly opened up the front hood and fiddled with the engine for a good five minutes, to no avail. For the life of him he couldn’t see what the matter was. He fruitlessly checked the oil, looked at the spark plugs, and examined the fan belt, but all seemed intact. This morning the compact 4x4 had run like a dream, but now it appeared he was stuck out here in the middle of nowhere.

  The image of the man in the blue parka was disconcerting and the frustrated watcher wondered what to do about him. Who was he; a local hunter or just a bird watcher? And if he was, why had the man taken a photo of him? He squirmed and scanned the dark forest, slapping at a late-season mosquito. The temperature rapidly dropped and he opened the front door of the Kia to salvage the thermos of coffee from the front seat, pouring the last bit into the silver lid. The bitter liquid helped warm him up as he tried the engine once again. The motor didn’t even cough and only issued a faint clicking noise. He cursed, first at the car and then at himself, chiding himself for not being a better mechanic or at least having a warmer jacket or a blanket in the car.

  He jumped out of the 4x4 once and glanced up at the black clouds closing in overhead and realized the early fall storm he’d been warned about was right on schedule. Now, extremely worried, he returned to the Kia and closed the door securely. At least here he’d be sheltered from the damn wind. Soon, however, his bones began to ache from the cold as he rubbed his hands together, trying vainly to stay warm in the rapidly cooling interior of the vehicle. He hugged himself and ran his numb hands down the length of his legs, wishing desperately the heater worked. He settled himself as best he could, hoping to wait out the storm.

  The tall man in the blue parka grinned. The stalker wouldn’t be going anywhere just yet; not as long as the ignition wires remained disconnected. He’d allow the intruder to cool his heels in the rapidly chilling afternoon before deciding what to do next.

  Chapter 2

  Tia continued writing all day, oblivious to the approaching storm until she heard the windows rattle once again. The temperature in the cabin had dropped and Tia performed the almost unconscious duties of preparing the cabin for winter as she secured the windows, cranked up the stove, and started fires in both fireplaces.

  A pot of hot soup with fresh-baked oatmeal bread sounded mighty tempting, so Tia strolled into the compact kitchen and began to prepare the dough for her priceless bread maker which had been a present from her father three years earlier. While it kneaded the white batter, she began chopping vegetables, wiping emotionless tears from her eyes as she skinned and diced an onion. An already cooked and de-boned chicken joined the boiling soup mixture and Tia leaned over and tasted the warm concoction, adding some extra seasoning salt to the broth. Within an hour the simmering soup would be ready. She punched in the baking time on the bread maker, almost tasting the delicious-flavored bread she and Mary had polished off yesterday during their tea break.

  Tia returned to her computer and sat in front of the humming screen trying to concentrate, but eventually was distracted by the first flakes of drifting snow. Winter had arrived early this year and Tia allowed herself the pleasure of watching the big soft flakes fall silently to the ground for a full five minutes before returning to work. It snowed steadily over the next two hours and by the time Tia finished her steaming bowl of soup and slice of freshly baked bread slathered with creamy butter she noted the snow already rose half-way up to the window sill. At this rate she’d most likely be snowed in by dark. Thank goodness she hadn’t made that futile trip into Timberline to ogle at some complete stranger! Nearly an hour later, while she mused before her computer in the fading light, a knock sounded at her door, startling her from her preoccupation with the fate of the little Inuit boy.

  Tia moved to the small entryway and waited until the knock resounded again. The brisk, desperate tapping made her cautiously open the heavy outer door to peer into the swirling snow. A large handsome blonde

  man in a thin jacket stood hesitantly in the dim light. He carried a small blue backpack and his cheeks were pinched with cold. He’d raised a hand to once again knock and peered at her in half-embarrassment.

  “I’m so sorry to bother you miss,” he said awkwardly, “but you see, my 4x4 died up on the road there and when I saw the smoke from your chimney I decided your cabin looked a lot warmer than the cold interior of my car.”

  “Come in, come in,” urged Tia, shivering herself at the brisk wind. She stuck out her hand, which the large man took in a firm grasp though his fingers were ice cold. “My name’s Tia Heath.”

  “And mine’s Steve Newcastle,” he responded. “I’m afraid I must be considered a rank city-slicker who was totally unprepared for inclement weather and got caught without any snow gear. I’m scouting around for some property to purchase and was directed this way by the realtor, Mrs. Carlson. She warned me about an impending storm and when those big storm clouds closed in I knew I was in big trouble. I thought I could sit it out in my rented Kia but the cold didn’t cooperate; so here I stand, frozen and in need of assistance. I’m so sorry to bother you.”

  Helping another person in need was second nature to Tia. “It’s no problem really. Please come inside where it’s warm.”

  Steve set his backpack down upon the bench with a thud and followed her into the warm interior of the cabin. The cold traveler gave a long sigh of relief and rubbed his hands together before hurrying to the crackling fireplace as if it personally beckoned to him. Tia smiled, watching him shiver as he rubbed his arms and legs trying to gain warm relief from the dancing flames. Finally he turned and smiled, his lips appearing less pinched.

  “Would you happen to have a phone? I’m staying at the Timberline Lodge and if I don’t make it back they’ll probably send out a search party.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Tia. “I don’t have phone service here, but do own a short-wave. I should be able to reach Nancy Leukowski who actually owns the Lodge.”

  “I’d sure be grateful if you could do that madam. How does it work?” He walked over to the short-wave leaning against the far wall, the red light blinking in readiness. Tia picked up the microphone and handed it to him, adjusting the frequency.

  She identified herself, “This is Tia, four double nine; is this Nancy? Over.”

  Nancy’s tinny voice echoed through the line after the first summons. “Glad to hear from you Tia, we’re bracing for quite a storm here. Is everything alright?”

  “Everything’s geared up just fine for winter. I have someone you need to talk to; his name is Steve Newcastle.” Tia handed the microphone to the tall man.

  “Hello, I’ve been staying at the Timberline Lodge and I seem to be snowed in. My car, the Kia Sorento I rented from Roy’s Gas Station, has died and I’m going to need some service. I’m not quite certain my exact location, but was heading toward the lake to scout out some property. Do you think you could send someone out when the snow stops?”

  “Of course, Mr. Newcastle. We were starting to get worried when you didn’t come back. It’s not a problem,” gushed Nancy Leukowski. “It’s coming down pretty hard and fast so we’ll wait until tomorrow and contact you before sending out someone to repair the car. Now that we know you’re safe, we can relax. May I speak to Tia again?”

  “Of course.” Steve handed the mike back to Tia.

  “Just wanted to let you know he is indeed staying in town. Mr. Newcastle has been checking out some property in the neighborhood for about a week. Rose Carlson directed him to some property near Bear Lake about three miles away from your cabin. We’ll send someone out there tomorrow.”

  “No problem,” replied Tia. “I’ll contact you in the morning. Over and out.” She hung up the handset and turned to Steve with a smile. “Since no one’s now worried about you, I bet you’re feeling better?”

  “Your hospitality and the warmth of this cabin have improved my disposition one hundred percent.” Steve’s cheeks, though still flushed, seemed more relaxed and comfortabl
y warm.

  “Are you hungry? When was the last time you ate?” asked Tia, glancing toward the kitchen.

  “At breakfast. I had three huge flapjacks, a rasher of bacon and two eggs, as well as orange juice. The Timberline Restaurant serves up a hearty breakfast, but I still feel as though I haven’t eaten anything in days.”

  “It’s the cold; it makes you famished. I’ll heat up some chicken soup and oatmeal bread if you’d like.” Steve followed her into the modern kitchen and watched as she opened the golden pine cupboards to remove a soup bowl and plate. The scent of fresh-baked oatmeal bread still hung in the air and he sniffed appreciatively.

  “That smells wonderful, what is it?”

  “My mother’s secret recipe for homemade bread. I made some just this morning so you’ll be getting it fresh. Please sit down.” Tia pointed to the round wooden table with its bright blue-checkered tablecloth and Steve sat down gingerly, easing his large frame into the leather-backed wooden chair.

  “So you’re looking for property around here? This is a mighty remote place for holiday property; I would think you’d prefer a place closer to Juneau or Anchorage.”

  “I admit that sounds like good sense, except for the simple fact I don’t have enough money to buy outside Juneau so I decided to try further north so I could venture into Denali Park and someday try and climb Mt. McKinley if I ever get my hiking legs back.”

  “You better pick your season then,” said Tia. “That mountain can only be accosted in the middle of summer and it’s far too late to start planning an expedition now.”

  “Oh no,” Steve raised his hands in protest. “Next summer is soon enough. Perhaps if I start training now I’ll be prepared.”

  Steve grinned and Tia remembered the description Mary had given her about the blonde man staying at the Timberline Lodge. She hadn’t been wrong in her assessment. His sandy hair hung long over soft brown eyes and laugh lines originated from his mouth, crinkling the corners of his full lips. Though a large man, Steve carried his weight well. Tia felt a faint pull of attraction but pushed it away. She wasn’t in the mood for starting a relationship with anyone and after he departed tomorrow her writing would once again become top priority.

  “So what kind of business are you in?” asked Tia, spooning several ladles full of soup into a saucepan. She stirred the thick mixture briskly with a wooden spoon after adjusting the flame.

  Steve leaned back in the wooden chair and smiled broadly. “My background’s in advertising. My firm’s in Seattle but I’ve just gone through a nasty divorce that was finalized only three months ago and Cindy got our cabin on Vancouver Island.”

  “I’ve been to Vancouver Island once,” said Tia, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “I had a friend who worked in Victoria; it’s such a beautiful place. You can’t find a lovelier spot to have a vacation home.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought,” said Steve, “but my wife took the cabin after I’d worked so hard on that baby. It sat right on the lake and the fishing was amazing. Little did I know Cindy used it as a love nest for her and her boyfriend Jerry. I can’t believe I worked everyday with that bum.” He sighed deeply. “So I figured; it’s time to take care of Steve, so I’m looking for a place with great fishing!” He glanced down; suddenly embarrassed he’d shared such an uncomfortable part of his past with a woman he’d only just met. Tia warmed to the big blonde man immediately and nodded compassionately.

  “Believe me I understand.”

  “I don’t know why I told you that; maybe it’s because you made me feel welcome even though I’m a complete stranger. Anyway, I thought a place in the pristine wilderness with good fishing was just what I needed; someplace where no one I knew from Seattle or Vancouver lived anywhere close. That’s what I’d call paradise.”

  “If you’re trying to get away from things this is the right place. And, I’ve heard tell that the fishing is really top-notch. The river and streams are full of trout and grayling and if you venture near the coast you can catch huge salmon during the spring. It’s an amazing sight when they jump upstream over the rocks, battling for the spawning grounds. There’s nothing quite as tasty as fresh salmon.”

  “I’d have to agree,” said Steve, warming to the subject. “I used to catch salmon near Seattle. The realtor says I can get some land here pretty cheap and I’ve convinced a friend in construction to come up and help me build. I thought I might try laying the foundation this fall, and as soon as the snow clears, build the cabin next summer. Sonny has a huge RV and I figured we could live out of it while building. Nancy, the owner of Timberline Hotel, said it’s pretty easy to get building supplies since you have your own local trucker.”

  “That would be Mary’s husband, Joe Whitebird. He and his two sons can bring anything into town you need.”

  “I sure like the layout and warm feel of this place,” said Steve, looking around.

  Tia beamed proudly. “It’s all hewn from lodge pole pine. The process is simple really; they cut the entire tree down and strip off the branches, shedding the bark in the process. My dad used the biggest poles for the basic frame and staggered the log tails to give it a more authentic feel. My uncle and dad chinked the inside walls, that’s why it appears so authentically rustic, and used river rock for the fireplace. They chose golden pine for the cabinets and furniture but the floors are actually cedar. All our windows are dual-paned and with the double entryway doors, though it might be minus forty outside, it still feels snug.”

  “So you’ve stayed here during the winter,” said Steve, surprised. “I’d think it would get too cold and isolated for a woman out here all alone.”

  “I like the solitude,” returned Tia shortly, turning back to the stove and ladling the steaming soup into a bowl. She placed it and two chunks of thick oatmeal bread swimming in melted butter before him. Steve gazed at the offered food hungrily, rubbing his large hands together.

  “And I thought the food at Timberline Lodge was good.” Without further adieu he spooned some hot liquid into his mouth before taking a bite out of the oatmeal bread and giving her a fervent thumbs-up. After a few swallows he slowed down enough to mumble, “This is mighty fine, Madam.”

  “Please don’t call me madam,” laughed Tia. “It makes me feel old and gray. My name’s Tia.”

  “Tia it is then. You know, I don’t think I would have ever gotten my ex, Cindy, to come up to a place like this. She really didn’t like camping and fishing, preferring the hot tub and big deck where she could entertain all her friends.” He glanced around at the beautiful simplicity of the compact cabin and nodded. “You know there is something elemental about being free and on your own again. I could get used to a place like this.”

  Tia nodded sympathetically and found herself more and more attracted to the man. By the time Steve finished his meal the wind howled against the sturdy log sides of the cabin. Steve helped Tia wash the dinner dishes and returned to the front room. For the first time he noticed the lighted monitor.

  “Are you a writer?” he asked.

  “Of a sort,” said Tia shyly. “I’m a children’s novelist and have been working on a story located in Glacier Bay. In fact, I plan to head down there in a couple of weeks to begin researching the puffin.”

  “The puffin,” said Steve, crinkling his brow. “You mean the bird?”

  “That’s right. If you’ve ever seen a puffin you realize what a comical creature he is. I’ve selected him to be a special friend to my little hero in the novel. I’m hoping to get this book finished in about a month’s time to send to my publisher.”

  “You mean to say you’re a published author,” verified Steve, looking astonished.

  “You might say that; this will be my fourth book.”

  “A writer of sorts, my eye,” protested Steve, wandering around the room and surveying the paintings of wildlife decorating the rough wooden walls. Tia quickly turned off the monitor as sudden modesty gripped her.

  “This is one mighty fine boo
k collection,” said Steve, perusing the enormous bookcase facing the room. “Is there anything you don’t have?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have many books on fishing,” replied Tia, and Steve laughed, the lines around his eyes crinkling attractively.

  “Ah, The Last of the Mohicans,” he crooned, pulling out the volume and turning to the title page. “Who’s Paul Dale?” asked Steve, reading the inscription.

  “My ex-fiancé. He knew I particularly liked the classics. He not only gave me the Cooper, but also the complete works of Doyle, as well as the poetry of Emily Dickinson. In a lot of ways he was really nice.”

  “Was?” asked Steve, turning to face her.

  “Yes. He had a fidelity problem as well.”

  Steve instantly recognized she didn’t want to talk about it and continued browsing the bookcase before moving over to the large double cabinet. “What’s in here?”

  “Videos! If you ever need a movie come to Tia’s video rental,” laughed Tia, hurrying to his side and opening the double cabinet doors.

  “Wow, The Terminator; that’s one of my favorites,” said Steve, pulling out the slip cover depicting a burly and menacing Arnold Schwarzenegger. “So you have electricity?”

  “Not exactly,” smiled Tia. “The cabin runs on a generator and as long as I keep the tank filled with propane this place is never without lights or warmth. Just in case though, I also have two wooden stoves, the fireplaces, and paraffin lamps. My father always told me that the weather here is highly unpredictable and insisted I shouldn’t depend too strongly on man-made things, so I always have a backup. I also have a rule that if Nancy doesn’t hear from me in three days, they should send someone out to check on me. Because I live in a remote area like this, there’s no telling what can happen because of the countless wild animals and freakish weather. Just this past July I couldn’t figure out why the lights in the kitchen and bedroom didn’t work until a friend of mine, who’s a handyman, showed me how the raccoons had gnawed through the wiring. One needs to be prepared for any eventuality.”