Timberline Trail Read online

  “So you photograph little animals?” asked Steve sarcastically.

  Jon returned a tight half smile. “Not always. Ben and I traveled to Kodiak Island not so long ago and photographed grizzly bears during the salmon season as they slapped the fish upon the rock before sitting upon their haunches to devour their impromptu meal. And a few years ago Ben and I were fortunate enough to do a photo study of musk ox in the Northwest Territories.”

  “Wait a minute!” Tia leaped from her chair and bounded into the living room, searching the overcrowded bookshelf. She retrieved a large picture book and carried it back to the table.

  “I’ve made the connection now! You’re Oswald and Simons! You produced that incredible book on the Polar Regions released about three years ago! I’ve read it cover to cover several times and all the information you included on tundra wolves proved to be very helpful regarding Sugar.”

  Jon leaned over and fingered the well-worn text. “Guilty as charged. I swear it took me six months to thaw out after that one. Ben and I are choosing an Amazonian trip for our next adventure.”

  Steve opened the heavy cover and flipped through the incredible book. “Wow. I had no idea you were famous.” He had the grace to look impressed. Steve turned to the back sleeve. “You look quite different in this picture.” It was almost an accusation.

  Tia peeked at the bright color photo. A grizzled and round-cheeked man in his sixties stood next to a young, clean-shaven Jon. The nature photographer appeared relaxed and happy, an actual grin plastered on for the camera. He suddenly appeared attractive and approachable, even though Mt. McKinley dwarfed the two men. Jon was not smiling now and for some reason seemed oddly put out.

  “That photo was taken nearly three years ago. I was a lot younger then.” Tia wondered at the significance behind the simple words.

  Apparently Steve didn’t pick up on the nuance. “So now you’re trying to film the grizzly? That sounds like dangerous work.”

  “It is, but very rewarding. I hope to find the matron with her two cubs that’s rumored to hang around Crane Lake. If I can get those shots, I’ll pretty much be finished here and can head for Denali to photograph Dall sheep and moose.”

  Steve shuddered, “I think I might have seen one of your grizzlies around here just the other day.”

  “Did it have a hump?” asked Tia. “Normally we don’t get many grizzlies in this area, but have quite a few black and brown bears. Brown bears don’t have the large humps on their shoulders. How much do you think it weighed?”

  “I don’t know,” said Steve, setting down his spoon. “I’m not an expert, but he looked as though he stood ten feet tall and weighed at least 1000 pounds.”

  Jon nodded, “That sounds about right. Kodiak grizzlies can get up to fifteen hundred pounds and stand ten feet high on their hind feet. You don’t wanna mess with one of those. I suggest you wear your bear bells if you’re planning to remain in bear country.”

  Steve’s eyes widened at the mention of the size of the bear. “Bear bells?” he repeated.

  “Bears don’t prefer contact with humans and if you wear bells it warns them off. It’s a wise precaution for any hiker around here,” interjected Tia.

  “I’ll keep that tidbit of information in mind. So you like photographing animals?” asked Steve.

  “Yes, I was born in the Yukon and spent many a summer traipsing around Alaska and Western Canada. I’ve been around animals of the north all my life since my family keeps a summer home in British Columbia. I tried to do some other things with my life, but always found myself returning to the wild, finally deciding photography would be a nice career choice for me. After I met Ben Oswald I was able to realize my dream. We’ve completed several different projects together and our book on the Amazon should be coming out in the spring.”

  “So you’re Canadian?” asked Tia.

  “Actually my mother’s Canadian and my father’s from Minnesota so I carry dual passports. Dad was with the Highway Commission and worked on the Alcan Highway for a while when they were doing that major revamping project for the Highway’s 50th anniversary. I think both he and my mom finally got tired of the cold and ended up in Orlando, basking in the sun. Florida is a little too hot and humid for my taste so I find myself drawn to the far north and its interesting wildlife.”

  “What are some of the other projects you’ve worked on other than this one?” Tia prompted.

  “We originally came to this region to photograph smaller creatures of southern Alaska to flesh out the book. I was actually photographing some bull moose when I heard about the mama grizzly.”

  “We’ve got some mighty fine specimens of moose here,” stated Tia. “And, the grand daddy of all bull moose in the region is said to hang out near Crane Lake. He’s reported to be eight feet tall and weigh over thirteen hundred pounds. I’ve never seen him myself but personally observed some of his huge cousins at close to twelve hundred pounds in the vicinity of Bear Canyon.”

  “Did you know that a bull moose can eat thirty pounds of wolf’s stems in one day?” said Jon smiling, warming to a subject he obviously enjoyed.

  Steve wagged his head, amazed at the direction the conversation had taken. He liked animals alright, but preferred them in zoos.

  “So what’s in all these bags?” asked Steve, hoping to change the subject.

  “This one here has all my photography equipment.”

  Tia wandered into the front room as Jon knelt down and unzipped the top of the camera bag. He removed a large Canon camera with a huge telephoto lens.

  “Wow!” exclaimed Tia, “that must have set you back a bit.”

  “And it’s not my only one,” he said proudly. “I also have a wide angle lens and a more powerful telephoto for shots of smaller creatures. This is the one I prefer when I need some delicate close-ups of dangerous animals like the lynx, wolf, or bear. It’s best to keep my distance. I already have four rolls I need to take into Timberline. Jeff Adkins of the forestry service has a photo lab at his cabin and offered to let me develop my film. If any prints turn out to be book quality I’ll send the negatives down to Ben’s assistant, who lays them out in format. Ben then uses the photos to inspire his captions and propel the direction of the text.”

  “Do you have any finished photographs we can look at?” asked Tia, really interested.

  “I might have a few.” Jon moved to the other black case, which he unzipped. He gingerly removed an expensive video camera and a couple of large envelopes. Returning to the kitchen table he laid them out; spreading over thirty 5 x 7’s upon the pine table.

  Tia picked out one. “Look at the horns on this moose,” she said, passing the photograph to Steve. The moose’s antlers were shedding and looked to weigh fifty pounds.

  “It’s the rutting season,” said Jon, “and there have been a lot of moose congregating near the lake, trying to entice some females. Ah, here’s one of my favorites.” Jon handed Tia a photo of the silky-haired lynx, Alaska’s only native cat.

  “I just read an article in the paper about a lynx that went through a pet door on the outskirts of Seward,” said Tia. “That’s one great thing about Alaska; it doesn’t matter how big the city, nature is literally right at your doorstep.”

  The next photos were of Sitka black-tailed deer. A lovely female of about one hundred pounds reached for berries delicately, using her nimble dark tongue. Jon had taken the shots in rapid succession, allowing the observer to actually visualize the doe twitching her tail, trying to keep the bugs at bay.

  “And here’s something you should recognize,” said Jon, handing her a photo of a healthy ptarmigan.

  “Here you go,” said Tia, showing Steve the photograph and smiling. “This is Alaska’s state bird.”

  “It looks a lot like a quail,” commented Steve. “We’ve got tons of those in Washington State.”

  “All I know is that they make mighty fine eating,” said Jon, scrutinizing Steve. “You should try some; they taste just like chicken.”


  Tia laughed. “That’s right; the locals around here call it chicken since they say it’s too hard to spell and say ptarmigan.”

  “It looks like you’ve been mighty busy. So how much longer do you plan to stay up here?” The question sounded idle but Jon narrowed his eyes at Steve before answering.

  “I’m hoping to remain in the area for another couple weeks or so before the snow flies, but may have to cut it short. I’m actually hoping this is a premature storm so Ben can make it up here and take a look at some of the shots I’ve set up. I’ve constructed a hide near the lake where I can watch moose, fox, and deer come to drink, and will allow him to acclimate himself to the region. Ben is amazing with words and has that uncanny ability of enabling you to feel you’re in the wild right alongside the animals. After that, we’re hoping to head further north and photograph some of the lemmings and other tundra creatures near the Brooks Range. Anyway, I’ll see what happens. We’ve really got no firm plans. And you?” he asked, as Steve set the photos back down upon the table, and Jon carefully replaced them inside the large envelopes.

  “I’ll probably be heading south real soon myself. I was hoping to get a piece of land before I left, but I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to find what I want now that the bad weather’s settled in. Hopefully this is just a short-term storm and I’ll be able to move out of here tomorrow.”

  “Then maybe we can leave together,” stated Jon quietly, and Tia instantly recognized the aggressive undertone to his voice. Steve raised his eyebrows and the two men gazed fiercely at one another. Where this unwarranted animosity had come from, Tia had no idea, but she suddenly felt frightened and vulnerable.

  Seeking to diffuse the situation she said, “You can count yourselves lucky gentlemen, the couch over there pulls out into a bed and I have a cot in my back closet that I use when my uncle comes up to visit while my dad is staying here. Let’s get them ready so you both have a place to sleep. You should be warm enough in here and with the wolf locked away in the entry hall you’ll be safe.” Tia said the latter with a half-smile and Steve grinned back.

  “That will be fine,” answered Jon, nodding stiffly. “Once again I have to thank you for your hospitality. I’m sorry to have barged in on you like this but I didn’t see any other choice regarding the wolf.”

  No problem,” said Tia and returned to her bedroom, removing the cot from the large cedar closet. Before she lugged it out to the front room she opened the side drawer of her nightstand revealing the revolver her Uncle Jeffery had left for added security, having always felt uneasy about her decision to stay in Alaska alone after her father had gone. Tia closed the drawer and wondered why she felt so unsettled and anxious. She had little doubt Jon was indeed a photographer and it seemed highly plausible Steve was really in advertising, but Tia decided that for her own peace of mind she needed to pursue the blonde’s background a little further. She returned with the cot, a couple of flat sheets and blankets, and a pillow under her arm. Steve rapidly moved to her side and picked up the cumbersome cot.

  “Here, here let me help you with that. I think I’ll set it over here near the exercise equipment and if I get restless at night I’ll do a little working out,” he joked.

  “Nice set-up you have here,” said Jon, fingering one of the barbells.

  “During the winter I find my exercise equipment affords me about all the exercise I can get. I try to do an hour workout each day using the bike, treadmill, and stair step. The snow is usually too deep for jogging by mid-October though it might be earlier this year, so the mini-gym helps control any symptoms of cabin fever. During the spring and summer I mostly jog or hike.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of those bears you mentioned?” asked Steve.

  “I wear those bear bells Jon mentioned,” said Tia, “and pray if the grizzlies hear me coming they’ll give me a wide berth.”

  Jon nodded in agreement, “I always wear my bear bells except when I’m stalking a shot. I’ve been pretty faithful about it ever since my partner Ben got caught doing his business in the bush. He glanced up into a curious bear’s eyes not more than five feet away. He stood up and started flapping his arms and screaming at the top of his lungs, trying to make himself appear bigger and more terrifying. That ole bear took off faster than you could say skedaddle. Luckily for him it was a black bear and I told Ben that once the bear saw him in his altogether, the poor creature took off running as fast as he could go in mortified embarrassment.”

  Tia laughed heartily and even Steve grinned.

  “Are there lots of black bear in these parts as well?”

  “Yes,” replied Tia, “but they only weigh eight hundred pounds. While about half the size of a Kodiak or brown bear, they can be even more dangerous because people underestimate them.”

  Steve opened the folded cot and placed a flannel sheet around the thin mattress. “I hope you don’t mind if I sleep here Jon. You take the pull-out bed.”

  “That will be fine,” stated the photographer, removing the cushions and placing them carefully upon the floor. His movements were smooth, almost catlike in their flowing ease, and Tia suddenly wondered what the real man looked like underneath his beard. The photo gracing the back of the book had been too distant to make any kind of real assessment.

  “So just what kind of advertising did you say you were in Steve?” asked Tia, pulling a pillowcase over the soft down pillow.

  “Our company does all sorts of accounts.”

  “What did you say the name of your company was again?” asked Jon.

  “I don’t recall saying,” answered Steve, taking the pillow from Tia and placing it upon the nearly made-up cot. “But it’s called Laughton Advertising and has been in business for only about ten years and was started by a couple of brothers named Hugh and Mark Laughton. They began by scripting TV ads but eventually decided they preferred still-advertising for glossies. We did lots of clothes and cosmetic advertising during the firm’s beginning days, but now concentrate more on cars, boats, and recreational vehicles. We’ve built up a pretty good clientele and the company is expanding. I’ve worked for them for nearly three and a half years, mostly as a salesman trying to secure new customers, and thus spending a great deal of time with clients trying to match our advertising to their needs. We design several different magazine layouts and choices of advertising options and then present them to the customer. Our trademark is internet advertising and Mercedes and Airstream are two major clients we’ve snagged this year. It’s actually a very lucrative business.”

  “I imagine it would be,” said Jon. “Do you have some extra pillows Tia?”

  “Certainly” answered Tia, returning to the bedroom to retrieve another down pillow along with a heavy patchwork comforter. Jon had listened politely enough to Steve’s recital of his business, but Tia could sense his disinterest. Most likely Jon Simons had worked so long in the bush that he had little or no patience for anything to do with man-made concerns. As she carried the bedding to the main room, Tia wondered if she had any patience left with that kind of life as well.

  Jon covered the bed with the comforter and gave her his forced half-smile. “This will do me fine Tia, and I must again thank you for your hospitality. I hope we aren’t keeping you from your writing.”

  “Oh, that’s alright,” said Tia. “I was getting a little tired of being creative anyway.” She motioned toward the tiny bathroom nestled between the small office and master bedroom. “You can use the hall bathroom. It has a toilet, sink and shower as well as under-floor heating. Just flip the switch. Make sure you run the water for at least three minutes or you’ll get an icy surprise. I’ll fetch you guys some towels. If the wolf rouses at all during the night please call me and I’ll try to soothe him since he’s used to my presence.”

  “You can count on it,” Steve said, and gave a slight bow.

  “Well then, I bid both of you a good night. See you in the morning.”

  Once inside the master bedroom, Tia closed h
er door and as quietly as possible latched the inner lock to the large bedroom. If someone really wanted to get in they could, but at least she had the revolver. Agitated and unsettled she sat on the foot of the bed and removed her shoes. Something niggled at the back of her mind but for the life of her she didn’t know what.

  Tia brushed her teeth and changed into her flannel night dress before crawling in between the covers after turning off the light. The wind howled and whistled, causing the spruce, pine, and birch trees to creak and bend in the strong wind. Tia had lain under the warm comforter for a full five minutes before bolting upright, realizing what she’d missed before. Jon Simons had politely mentioned he hoped his presence wasn’t keeping her from her writing. How could he have known she wrote?

  Tia slept only fitfully, awakening several times as the wind howled through the eaves of the low cabin. Occasionally the entire frame of the sturdy log cabin groaned and she recognized how violent the weather outside had become. Once, around three a.m. and unable to sleep any longer due to the premature storm, Tia rose from her warm bed and cautiously opened the bedroom door. From the cot near the exercise equipment sounds of gentle snoring broke the relative quiet. The fireplace, however, still glowed strongly and Jon gazed into the fire, the leaping flames casting dancing shadows upon his bristled face. Turned slightly toward her, Tia could witness the muscles of his jawbones twitching as he seemed to fight some strong emotion. The house trembled and shook, but Tia swore she heard the gasp of a restrained sob.

  Some sort of sixth sense must have alerted the somber man for he turned in the darkness, his dark green eyes seeking hers through the flickering light. He did not seem unduly surprised to observe her framed within the doorway and draped in the unshapely flannel nightgown. A half-smile, half-grimace briefly flitted across his face before he nodded silently toward her. Tia broke eye contact and tip-toed to the entryway door, checking on the wounded wolf as Jon watched.