THE GOODLANDS - My Debut Novel

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Part One

 GONE WESTERN

 

“Go quietly, alone; no harm will befall you.”  ― John Muir

 

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Chapter 1

H

e was flat on his back and barely conscious when the brown and gray canine roused him with her soft whine, bad breath, and rapid panting. She had just rolled and rubbed her face on his open backpack, stood at his side, and licked his bloody shoulder. He flinched as she ratcheted her head sideways and moved her soothing tongue from his shoulder to the open wound on his forehead.

“K-Dawg is it you, pal?” he said.               

With squinted eyes, he followed the canine’s flared nostrils upward, until he saw two yellow eyes as they glared at him with uncertainty. Small, pointed ears were alert and attentive. She blinked and turned her head away in submissive behavior.

He immediately knew it wasn’t his pet, so Sam avoided any display of dominance toward the wild creature. He held his breath as the she-wolf looked up and listened with keen interest to sounds in the last light of day, then she stepped carefully over the human legs and walked toward a game trail which led deep into the darkened timber.

The lobo looked back, shook her head, and twin strings of slobber created an arc in the twilight as she trotted confidently into the darkness, accompanied by the scent of her mother, stolen from the human evidence bag. She stopped once and emitted faint whines, then howled for her lost pack as the cries converged with the wind.

Oddly, Sam Rios, a Law Enforcement Officer for the US Forest Service, did not fear the wild creature, but as she disappeared, he exhaled in relief. He searched in the wolf’s direction but saw only black silhouetted statues of Ponderosa pines displayed against a backdrop of sky, soon to disappear. He couldn’t remember how he got hurt and ended up on the ground, but in his mind, he envisioned dead wolves draped over a fence, a violent ambush, and a gunfight. If only I could remember…

As Sam stretched his wounded body upward to peer deep into the woods, he lost his balance, rolled downhill, and landed in a shallow stream of icy water, which racked him in pain. He shivered and screamed in anguish, as the mountain’s spine felt chills and predators paused to listen.

Sam knew he must struggle to remain in survival mode, but warm fluid dribbled into his eye, pain stabbed at his chest, and he couldn’t move his left arm. When he tried to escape the water, its sandy bottom hugged his body tighter.

Then he heard someone shout.