Mary?’
‘She’s fine. We got divorced two years ago.’
‘Oh, Dan, I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah, well. I’m not and she sure isn’t. And Ginny’s okay, thank the Lord. She’s fourteen now. Mary’s still living in Helena, so it all kind of works out, you know, Ginny gets to spend time with us both.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Yeah.’
There was a pause and she knew what was coming.
‘How about you? I mean, have you . . .’
‘Don’t be shy, Prior. You mean how’s my love life?’
‘No. Okay, yeah.’
‘Well, let me see. We’ve been together, what, just over two years now.’
‘Really? That’s great. Tell me about him.’
‘Well. He’s got long, sandy-colored hair, brown eyes, doesn’t say a whole lot. And he’s got this thing about sticking his head out of car windows and thwacking the back of your legs with his tail.’
Dan smiled.
‘No, I was living with a guy for a couple of years on the Cape. But he’s, well, kind of gone off somewhere. I guess you’d say it’s on hold.’
She swallowed and looked away out of the window. There were mountains in the distance. Dan, bless his heart, seemed to sense he was on fragile ground and changed the subject. He started to fill her in on all that had happened since the wolf had first shown his face in Hope almost a month ago and soon had her laughing again with his account of the funeral Buck Calder had staged for Prince, the Hero of all Labradors.
Calder had organized a preacher to come from Great Falls and do the honors, in front of family, friends and, of course, the press and TV cameras. The tombstone was made of black marble and had probably cost the best part of five hundred dollars. Instead of Dan’s idea for the epitaph, which Helen liked a lot, they had gone with something more resonant:
Here lies Prince
Who kept the wolf from the door
And laid down his life for a child.
Good Dog!
Since then, Dan said, things had quieted down some. Every so often he would get a call from a reporter asking if he had located the wolf yet and he would play the whole thing down, giving the impression that it was all under control, that they were monitoring the situation constantly and that the fact that this wolf hadn’t been seen again almost certainly meant he was a lone disperser and was by now probably a hundred or more miles away, which Dan wanted to believe but didn’t. Just two days ago a Forest Service ranger hiking the backcountry due west of Hope had reported finding tracks.
At the office he introduced Helen to Donna, who gave her a big welcome and said it was great that at long last Dan had seen sense and hired a woman.
‘And this is Fred,’ Dan said, patting the top of the glass case. ‘The only one who does any work around here.’
A few minutes later, Helen bumped into Donna having a quiet cigarette in the restroom and gratefully lit one herself. One of life’s lesser-known truths, Donna confided, was that only the best kind of women smoked - and only the worst kind of men.
Dan sent out for sandwiches and the two of them adjourned to his office where they spent the next couple of hours, with the help of maps and charts and photographs, going through what Helen would be doing once she got to Hope.
They had flown the backcountry three times now, Dan said, and hadn’t picked up so much as a hint of radio signal. Whatever was out there almost certainly wasn’t collared, so Helen’s job was to trap, fit collars and then track to find out what was going on. Bill Rimmer, who was due back any moment from his vacation, had volunteered to help her set the traps.
If there turned out to be a whole pack, Helen was to find out its size and range, what it was preying on, all the usual stuff, Dan said. As well as that, of course, the important thing was to try to build a rapport with the local ranchers.
Finally, he sat up and put on a mock official voice while he went through the terms of her employment. The only way he was allowed to hire her,
‘She’s fine. We got divorced two years ago.’
‘Oh, Dan, I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah, well. I’m not and she sure isn’t. And Ginny’s okay, thank the Lord. She’s fourteen now. Mary’s still living in Helena, so it all kind of works out, you know, Ginny gets to spend time with us both.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Yeah.’
There was a pause and she knew what was coming.
‘How about you? I mean, have you . . .’
‘Don’t be shy, Prior. You mean how’s my love life?’
‘No. Okay, yeah.’
‘Well, let me see. We’ve been together, what, just over two years now.’
‘Really? That’s great. Tell me about him.’
‘Well. He’s got long, sandy-colored hair, brown eyes, doesn’t say a whole lot. And he’s got this thing about sticking his head out of car windows and thwacking the back of your legs with his tail.’
Dan smiled.
‘No, I was living with a guy for a couple of years on the Cape. But he’s, well, kind of gone off somewhere. I guess you’d say it’s on hold.’
She swallowed and looked away out of the window. There were mountains in the distance. Dan, bless his heart, seemed to sense he was on fragile ground and changed the subject. He started to fill her in on all that had happened since the wolf had first shown his face in Hope almost a month ago and soon had her laughing again with his account of the funeral Buck Calder had staged for Prince, the Hero of all Labradors.
Calder had organized a preacher to come from Great Falls and do the honors, in front of family, friends and, of course, the press and TV cameras. The tombstone was made of black marble and had probably cost the best part of five hundred dollars. Instead of Dan’s idea for the epitaph, which Helen liked a lot, they had gone with something more resonant:
Here lies Prince
Who kept the wolf from the door
And laid down his life for a child.
Good Dog!
Since then, Dan said, things had quieted down some. Every so often he would get a call from a reporter asking if he had located the wolf yet and he would play the whole thing down, giving the impression that it was all under control, that they were monitoring the situation constantly and that the fact that this wolf hadn’t been seen again almost certainly meant he was a lone disperser and was by now probably a hundred or more miles away, which Dan wanted to believe but didn’t. Just two days ago a Forest Service ranger hiking the backcountry due west of Hope had reported finding tracks.
At the office he introduced Helen to Donna, who gave her a big welcome and said it was great that at long last Dan had seen sense and hired a woman.
‘And this is Fred,’ Dan said, patting the top of the glass case. ‘The only one who does any work around here.’
A few minutes later, Helen bumped into Donna having a quiet cigarette in the restroom and gratefully lit one herself. One of life’s lesser-known truths, Donna confided, was that only the best kind of women smoked - and only the worst kind of men.
Dan sent out for sandwiches and the two of them adjourned to his office where they spent the next couple of hours, with the help of maps and charts and photographs, going through what Helen would be doing once she got to Hope.
They had flown the backcountry three times now, Dan said, and hadn’t picked up so much as a hint of radio signal. Whatever was out there almost certainly wasn’t collared, so Helen’s job was to trap, fit collars and then track to find out what was going on. Bill Rimmer, who was due back any moment from his vacation, had volunteered to help her set the traps.
If there turned out to be a whole pack, Helen was to find out its size and range, what it was preying on, all the usual stuff, Dan said. As well as that, of course, the important thing was to try to build a rapport with the local ranchers.
Finally, he sat up and put on a mock official voice while he went through the terms of her employment. The only way he was allowed to hire her,
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