Chapter Six
Jasper
How we went from ripping each other’s heads off to having a therapeutic heart-to-heart over the pitfalls of being a first responder?
No idea.
Blame it on a lack of sleep. The other explanation wasn’t something to dig into right now.
The good news was the sky was brightening, or at least less ominous, so we tucked the survival blanket away and started walking. Luckily it was a relatively straight shot down the mountain so there was no direction to argue over.
Not that we had a map to work with anyway.
We were both carefully picking our footing in the mud when a track on the trail caught my eye. I paused and caught her shoulder when she came up beside me.
“Does that look like a wolf track to you?”
She glanced down and frowned, her hair plastered to her forehead. “Are there even wolves around here?”
“I’m not sure. Not something I thought to look into when I came here for a wedding.”
She snorted and glanced around. “We should just make lots of noise as we walk just in—”
A sound interrupted her sentence but it wasn’t the howl of a wolf. It sounded more like an excited bark.
We both turned and looked at each other, then toward the source of the sound. Through the remaining fog and dense trees there was a flash of white.
“Right there. What is that?”
The bark sounded again and my brain scrambled through lists of wildlife trying to place it. Then Wren laughed.
“It’s Tuck. Kara and Grant’s dog. It has to be.”
I squinted as the bark sounded again. Though I’d only seen the Great Pyrenees for a few minutes, she was probably right. “Think the thunder spooked him and he ran off?”
She shrugged. “We should see if we can catch him and bring him back with us. He’s a long way from home.”
I nodded. “Tuck,” I called, followed by a long whistle.
The white shape moved toward us but stopped a good fifty yards away.
I called him again.
His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth but he made no move to come closer.
“He’s mocking us,” Wren said. She crouched down. “Come here, sweetheart,” she cooed in a baby voice.
Tuck sat down and swished his tail but stayed where he was.
“I think you’re right.” Tuck was more stubborn than my boss, Flynt, back in Springwood.
“Tuck, come here,” I yelled, trying to inject more authority into my voice. He was used to listening to Grant so maybe if my voice sounded growly and rough like his the wayward dog would listen.
No such luck.
Tuck lowered his front end, stuck his butt in the air and stretched before looking back at us between his front paws, tail wagging.
“Yeah, he thinks this is a game now,” Wren said.
Stubborn or stupid, I tried the same tactic again.
“Tuck, come here!” I said, aiming for an authority I didn’t actually have. I punctuated the words by stepping toward him.
His tail wagged harder.
Wren snickered behind me.
“I don’t think that’s going to work.”
I looked back over my shoulder at her. “If you have a better idea I’m all ears.”
She shrugged. My attention shifted back to Tuck. If a dog could laugh that’s exactly what he was doing.
Cold, wet, hungry, tired, and increasingly irritated, I still couldn’t stop myself from smiling at the goofy mutt.
Then all bets were off.
He gave a few more eager wags of his tail then took off in the direction of home.
Wren was laughing and running through the muck behind me.
Tuck was an older dog so he should run out of steam.
Again I was wrong.
He would slow down and we’d start to catch up, but then he’d look over his shoulder and pick up speed again.
“Damn it, Tuck,” my voice took on a growl. The dog was too stubborn to listen. At this rate he was the one bringing us home, not the other way around.
We reached a slightly lower section where the ground was thicker with mud and slowed to a walk. It wasn’t worth breaking an ankle to catch a dog who didn’t seem to actually be lost.
Wren slowed behind me, still giggling a little.
“He had better survival instincts than we did.”
I nodded. “I don’t think he needs our help.”
Instead of chasing him, we walked behind him, watching his fuzzy tail sway back and forth until the woods began to thin. Eventually we reached the driveway and the clearing around Kara and Grant’s cabin.
By now my luck being what it was, the rain had stopped entirely and it was once again a beautiful summer day.
A group of people sat around the clearing, beers in hand, the smell of steak in the air.
Part of me wanted to throttle my cousin.
Then again it was Wren and I who fought, ruined the map and possibly overreacted to the thunder given our job experience.
“There you two are. Thought you’d be back first,” Kara said.
“We were just having too much fun exploring I guess.”
“Then we ran into your stubborn pup,” Wren added.
Tuck, unlike on the trail, was now sitting between us as if we were best friends.
Kara’s eyes pingponged between the two of us.
“The search and rescue officer and the wildfire fighter were the last to finish the simple navigation exercise.” She flashed a significant look at Grant and he rolled his eyes.
My neck heated and I rubbed at it like it might push the feelings that were growing. “I’d better get some dry clothes on,” I muttered before retreating to my car, away from Kara’s too-perceptive gaze.