Wolf’s Wind

  Wolf’s Wind

  Vonna Harper

  Published: 2018

  ISBN: 9-781-622-104-581

  Published by Liquid Silver Publishing. Copyright © 2018, Vonna Harper.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the USA

  Email support@liquidsilverpublishing.com with questions, or inquiries about Liquid Silver Books, Liquid Silver Publishing, or Ten West Publishing.

  Blurb

  Neither Carlan Nashel or Brett Schneider want to be at the Gorge, not with a storm isolating them from the world and shared memories swamping them, but they don’t have a choice. A force, a dead man, is in charge. And the wolves.

  Acknowledgements

  The trip to my family’s wilderness cabin takes us near a part of the Rogue River where thousands of years ago volcanic activity from Crater Lake flowed over the forest. Molten lava trapped the Rogue in a narrow channel. As a result, particularly during spring runoff, the river foams and screams, too much water trapped in too little space. And awesome to watch. Wolf’s Wind was born there.

  Chapter 1

  “ARE you happy? You got me up here, now leave me alone!”

  Expecting no response, Carlan Nashel gripped the steering wheel and stared out at what she could see of the woods-surrounded parking lot. Rain sheeted down her windshield, making it hard for her to remember that it was daylight and not the middle of the night, and she wasn’t having yet another of her disturbing dreams.

  “I need to sleep. Is it so much to ask for?”

  Obviously, getting a few uninterrupted hours of sleep wasn’t going to happen, and sleep deprivation was digging holes in her mental state. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be there. Especially today.

  “You’re probably laughing at me. Messing with my mind. Do you think you’re going to accomplish something by making me see where—where you know what happened?”

  It had been raining since a little after dark last night, and according to the weather report, the early spring storm was going to hang around through much of the day. So why was she there?

  Releasing the steering wheel, Carlan rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans. The wind accompanying the rain slammed into the side of her car, shaking it. No one, repeat, no other person, was anywhere near that awful/awesome place called The Gorge. She wasn’t going to pull on her all-weather coat, get out, and make the short trek to the river; she wasn’t! Instead, in just a few seconds, she’d head back to where she was needed.

  “Do you know what’s happened to our folks, bro? The hell you’re putting them through? Wait, how could you? You’re dead.”

  No matter how many times she’d forced herself to face the fact that her big brother, Skye, had died in a horrible accident up there last summer, reality made tears burn her eyes and grief tighten her heart.

  “You knew better. Damn it, you aren’t—weren’t—stupid. I always thought you had a brain.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Goes to show how much I really knew about you. And now I’m left to pick up the pieces and try to keep our folks from self-destructing from grief. After everything they’ve gone through since Dad’s accident, it isn’t fair!” Swamped by emotion, she pounded her fists against the steering wheel.

  Sis, I’m sorry.

  *

  Claustrophobic didn’t come close to describing how Brett Schneider felt. Put him in a one-person travel trailer and surround him with a storm that showed no sign of letting up, cabin fever was bound to strike. Granted, the rain and wind were supposed to run their course later today, but in the meantime, there wasn’t a thing he could do—except get out of the woods he wasn’t sure he really wanted to be in anymore.

  Sitting up, he carefully scooted off the double bed he’d been sprawled on and took the three steps necessary to reach the window over the so-called table. No surprise, his right leg protested, prompting him to gently massage his thigh. The evergreens that made up his world were a sodden mess. Although the debris that littered the ground obscured the underlying mud, he knew he’d sink up to his knees if he left the narrow gravel road that led to his trailer. Bottom line, it’d be several days before things dried out enough for him to get back to marking the trees that Schneider Logging had a government contract to bring down. There was no reason for him to stay there, asking himself questions and trying to make decisions.

  So, why hadn’t he already jumped into his rig and taken off?

  Good question, the career logger inside him said. Lethargy, maybe? Old age setting in? No, he yet had to see thirty. Then what? Telling himself he hadn’t wanted to make the short, wet sprint from the trailer to his rig provided a bit of an explanation, but as he studied the treetops fighting the wind, Brett admitted that wasn’t it.

  The forest he’d been born and raised in wanted something from him. It wasn’t about to let him go.

  Fuck that! He was no longer the helpless man he’d been not more than a year ago.

  And yet he couldn’t force himself to leave. Then what was he?

  *

  Carlan had been trudging along with her head down as much to avoid the largest rain puddles as to protect her face, but now something made her slow her steps. She lifted her head. With spots of snow still in places and the ground now saturated with rain, the hikers and campers of the summer season had yet to invade the area. Why, then, did she feel as if she was being watched?

  It was a little after noon, hardly time for the shadows to take over, so why this shiver down the middle of her back? The easy explanation was that her nervous system was out of whack because she didn’t want to be there. However, she couldn’t quite buy that. Someone unaccustomed to the forest might not feel comfortable with trees closing in from all sides, but she’d grown up there in Southern Oregon. The forest had once been her playground, her backyard. Once.

  The way-out-there explanation was that her dead brother had found a way to reach her from wherever he was. Except she knew better.

  Although she had yet to reach The Gorge area with its man-made path and protective fencing, the river’s endless scream made her feel as if she was already there. The ancient volcanic spill that had transformed a normal streambed into too-narrow channels and steep drops drew her to it, much as shock and fascination made people stare at an accident scene.

  For a moment, she nearly turned tail and ran back to her car, but then her attention was drawn to the five-foot-high chain-link fencing designed to keep people from getting too close to certain death. Just beyond the fence lurked the river that had taken her brother’s life. Her heart filling her throat, Carlan forced one step after another until she reached the barrier. Pulling her hands out of her raincoat pockets, she laced them through the icy, wet metal and peered over the top

  To her right was a hundred-foot-high waterfall. Thousands of years ago, cooling lava had created a channel so restricted that during spring runoff, the overflow shot high into the air before crashing into the dark, swirling pool at the bottom. Several fallen trees spanned the river, looking like footpaths for the insane or fatally fool-hearted.

  “All right,” she said. “I’m here. What more do you want from me?”

  Sis, I’m sorry.

  “Stop that!” Releasing the fence, she pressed her hands against her ears. Stress, tension, and sleep deprivation had conspired against he
r to make her think Skye’s ghost talked to her. Any more of this and she’d have to get some help. A medical doctor would probably focus on her physical symptoms and prescribe something to slow her heart rate. On the other hand, a shrink would try to get into her head, something she needed and feared.

  Rain ran over her wrists and down into her coat sleeves. Shivering, Carlan lowered her arms and shook her hands, but the damage had been done. Her sweatshirt stuck to her. Fine; good, in fact. Sanity said she’d given into the most irrational impulse of her life by coming there. Despite the gnawing sense that she’d never find closure unless she stood at the exact spot where Skye’s life had ended, what was the point if she was so cold hypothermia set in?

  “I’m going,” she announced. “Getting out of here. I can’t help it if some part of you is still hanging around, just as I didn’t have a hand in your dying.”

  Half expecting the voice in her mind to reply, she tucked her hands under her armpits. Only the storm spoke to her, saying ancient things about a timeless place. She’d done it, gotten the monkey off her back by making the trip to The Gorge. Her goal met, she needed to refocus her attention on parenting her parents.

  Buoyed by that thought, she started to turn back the way she’d come, only to be hit by a wind and rain gust that nearly knocked her off her feet. Something that felt too much like an icy hand slammed into her shoulder and spun her toward the river.

  Terrified that the ghostly apparition had found a way to actually touch her, Carlan screamed, “Stop it! What are you doing?”

  Trying to help you.

  Skye? She shook her head. Hard. Impossible. But who else?

  “Leave me alone. Just leave me the hell alone!”

  I can’t.

  Even with the relentless wind, she had no doubt which direction the voice came from, and although it was the last thing in the world she wanted to do, she stared behind her into the woods up the trail from where she stood.

  No fewer than eight yellow eyes glittered back at her. Eyes that could belong to only one thing—a wolf pack.

  “What are you doing here?”

  *

  Blinking, Brett stared at the passenger’s seat as if expecting someone to answer, but he was alone in his truck’s cab. More to the point, he’d just pulled into The Gorge parking lot. Instead of it being empty, as logic said it would be on a miserable excuse for a day like this, a dark gray car was parked close to the foot trail.

  Throwing his truck into Park, he pondered not the car’s presence, so much as why he’d pulled in instead of continuing the trek he’d barely started down the mountain.

  The gray car sported an out-of-state license, which pointed, kind of, to a tourist who’d heard of The Gorge and was determined to experience it no matter what the weather. If that was the case, he had no inclination to disturb the fool’s insistence on communing with nature. Let said fool get cold and wet.

  Which didn’t answer the question of what he was doing. A shrug did nothing to shake the cobwebs from his mind. Neither did rubbing his eyes and stretching his spine. Man, he really needed to get more sleep. That hazy shit that’d been entering his mind lately was back. He didn’t know why he’d stopped or what he was doing there, but it felt as if he needed to be there, doing…something.

  “Yeah, right.”

  Damn, his mind was fucked up lately. So why, then, was he killing the engine and opening the truck door? Why was he fighting the wind to get his ass out of the cab and ignoring the too-familiar ache in his leg? Why was he securing the cord on his coat’s hood and making sure the top button was fastened? What he really wanted to know was, why was he placing his foot on the path leading to The Gorge?

  Maybe to give him something to do other than question his sanity as he trudged along the familiar trail, Brett tried to recall the last time he’d been there. He and his brother, Jake, had debated coming back after the river had crushed the life out of Skye Nashel last summer, but they hadn’t gotten around to it. Or rather, he’d talked himself out of the trip.

  He knew all too well about not wanting to revisit places filled with darkness.

  “What a damn fool thing to do, Skye,” he muttered, refusing to draw comparisons between Skye’s fatal adventure and what he was currently doing. “Never gave a thought to what your stunt might do to your family, did you? Too busy being a macho man to consider your parents and sister.”

  It wasn’t like that.

  Nostrils flaring, Brett stopped and looked around, but although he listened intently for the better part of a minute, he heard nothing beyond his heartbeat and the storm. In some ways, he wished he had spotted Skye’s ghost, because that was certainly preferable to the other explanation—that what he’d gone through himself just a few months ago not far from there had unhinged parts of his brain.

  Damn it, his accident was behind him. Except for a bunch of screws and plates holding his leg together, his life chugged along just fine.

  So, why has it been so hard to recommit to the only job you’ve ever done? a part of him demanded. His response was simple. None of your damn business.

  Even with the wind fighting him, Brett picked up his pace. He’d make sure that the tourist was okay, that’s all. Although he should feel noble, all he felt was uneasy.

  And not alone.

  He thought back to what his brother had told him about the day he’d met Sarah, the woman who now lit up Jake’s life. They hadn’t been far from there, a shade over two miles to be exact, during a fierce snowstorm late last winter. Turned out, they hadn’t been as alone as they’d thought when their separate worlds came together.

  Instead, they’d shared the snowstorm and their hotel adventure with a pack of wolves.

  Chapter 2

  NOT paying any attention to what she was doing, Carlan ran. No matter how much she needed to, she couldn’t bring herself to look behind her. She had to get to her car and lock herself inside it, nothing else mattered! She’d heard Skye’s voice; she’d be locked up if she told anyone. Her boots made slapping sounds on the wet cement as she ran, calming her—at least she could hear something concrete—and bringing her closer to panic.

  I’m running from a ghost. How did she run away from a ghost, when she couldn’t see it? And the wolves…She shivered. How freaky was that?

  She hadn’t seen wolves, because the predators that once roamed Oregon and most of the United States had been exterminated long ago. Granted, wolves had been reintroduced to places like Yellowstone National Park and the state of Idaho, and a handful had even crossed the state line into Eastern Oregon, but it would be years before the always-moving predators made their way this far west.

  Wild dogs, then?

  No.

  “Stop it!” she screamed at the voice that positively, absolutely couldn’t be her brother’s. “Leave me alone.”

  I told you, I can’t.

  Even though she fought the pull with every fiber in her, Carlan slowed and looked to her right where the voice had come from. She blinked. It couldn’t be. Yet the wolves with their compelling eyes were right there, only a few feet away, and not back where she’d left them, standing at the base of a massive pine. There were four of them, one slightly larger than the others. His gaze bore into her, carving even deeper holes in her sanity.

  Carlan? I didn’t mean to hurt you or our folks.

  Jamming her fist against her mouth, she backed away from the predators. Yet if she continued moving in the direction she was headed, she’d only put more distance between herself and her vehicle. Everything in her shrank to a simple and primitive fact—she had to get past the pack. One step became another followed by yet another. She walked without looking where she was going, because she didn’t dare take her gaze from the magnificent and deadly creatures some fifty feet away. Rain sheeted off them, and the wind tossed their coats, but they seemed oblivious to the weather. Their muzzles were open, revealing killing fangs, and their ears pricked forward, as if dete
rmined to hear every sound she made. Their black noses twitched.

  “Oh God, God!” she exclaimed as she drew even with them. Her heart pounding wildly, so fast, she was afraid it would explode from the fear itself. She took two more trembling steps, and then she was past them. Another “Oh God.” She broke into a run. Her boots, although rainproof, hadn’t been designed for hard use. Twice she nearly lost her footing, but she continued her panicked charge.

  Nearing a fallen limb, she slowed. She noticed movement ahead of her on the trail. Dear Lord, not more of them. For an instant, she thought she was going to lose it, but the entire mountain couldn’t have conspired against her. It just couldn’t be another wolf or her brother in ghost form, it just couldn’t.

  She squinted. Thank you, God, for small favors.

  It was a human.

  “Help me!” she cried. Ignoring the beginning of a cramp in her cold thighs, she jumped over the limb and sprinted toward the stranger. “Help me, please!”

  To her relief, he held out his arms. She threw herself into them, whimpering but determined not to scream.

  “Thank you.” Feeling safe, finally, she suddenly started. “Are you armed?”

  “Armed? No. What’s going on?”

  Something about the man’s voice nudged a memory, as did his hard embrace. Unable to concentrate on that, Carlan wrapped her arms around his middle and looked back over her shoulder. No wolves stood at the base of the large tree. No voice shattered her thoughts. Gathering her courage, she pushed free and backed up a step. She looked behind her again for reassurance. The spot where the pack had been was deserted.

  Had she imagined everything?

  “Are you all right?” the stranger asked.

  Another prick of recognition captured her attention. There was something about the man that was not simply familiar but seemed somehow…vital. Like her, he’d buried himself under layers of all-weather clothing, so she could only guess at his body’s contours. She guessed he stood maybe two or three inches over six feet, and he sported no-nonsense shoulders, a straight back, and a slightly unnatural cant to his stance, as if he put more weight on one leg than the other when he walked. His hands were in his pockets, as if to reassure her that she was safe around him. Instead of hunching forward against the storm, he faced it squarely.