Part 2
The lion lifted her head at the sound of Daniel’s radio. She held it up for a moment, watching him, then lowered her chin into the snow. He pressed the transmit button so hard his thumb hurt.
“Mae, there’s a live mountain lion here. Caught in a trap. The chain’s attached to the rail.”
He gave the location again, more slowly. Behind him, the cab door opened and Ray came down the ladder. His boots stopped crunching when he saw through the gap.
“Oh, hell.”
Daniel pointed without stepping forward. Ray looked from the animal to the wolves and back, his mouth tightening beneath his beard. He had finished securing the train; both men could stay on the ground, but neither had any business being near those teeth.
Mae returned with an answer. A wildlife officer and a veterinarian were coming together, but the service road hadn’t been cleared all the way through. They would need at least an hour, probably longer.
“Stay clear of the animals,” she said. “I’ve told them exactly what you found.”
Daniel watched the lion’s side. The movement was shallow, difficult to distinguish from the snow drifting against her coat. Blood had darkened the fur around the trap, and the hollow behind her ribs showed whenever she breathed.
“They were standing over her,” he said.
Ray kept his voice low. “They might be waiting for her to die.”
“They could have killed her already.”
“Maybe. Doesn’t mean we can walk in there.”
Daniel knew wolves competed with mountain lions. He also knew what he’d seen from the cab: a pack that had stayed in front of a moving locomotive until it stopped. He couldn’t settle what that meant, but the argument wasn’t keeping the cat any warmer.
He looked back at the work car. Its small window was clear of frost, and the folding ramp he’d helped secure was just inside the equipment door.
“There are cutters in the tool locker.”
Ray closed his eyes briefly. “Danny.”
“I can get the chain off the rail.”
“And then what? She’s still caught.”
Daniel had no answer that made approaching her safe. He thought of Caleb waiting with his overnight bag, and for a moment he nearly went back up the ladder. Then the lion tried to lift her head again and couldn’t hold it there.
“I’m going to try,” he said. “I need you watching them.”
Ray looked toward the timber, judging the space between the wolves and the locomotive. “You stop when I say stop. No arguing.”
Getting ready took almost twenty minutes. They brought down the bolt cutters, ordinary work clamps, the first-aid kit, and two heavy blankets. Ray opened the work car’s equipment door, cleared snow from the approach, and lowered its broad loading ramp. Daniel reported what he intended to do, then put the radio where he could reach it without dropping a tool.
They approached together, stopping whenever a wolf moved. The pack spread into an uneven semicircle beside the track. Daniel kept his voice low, saying a few plain words to the lion as he moved toward her trapped leg, though he doubted she heard them as anything but another noise.
Up close, the metal was an old jaw trap, its chain too short to let her reach the bank. The wound looked older than the fresh blood on the snow. Daniel couldn’t tell how much of the darkened skin was damage and how much was dirt, and he made himself stop trying to guess.
The lion’s eyes followed his hands.
He set the cutters against the chain where it passed around the rail, keeping as far from her body as the handles allowed. His first effort shifted the tool without cutting. He changed his footing, felt Ray close behind him, and tried again.
The link broke with a crack. Daniel drew the cutters away and waited, but the lion didn’t attempt to get up. The severed chain lay loose across the tie.
“Rail’s clear,” Ray said.
The trap was still closed around her leg. Daniel knelt where he could reach the metal without leaning over her, his breathing loud inside his scarf. His work had taught him to respect stored pressure; it had taught him nothing about the cat watching him from a few feet away.
He worked at the jammed mechanism with the clamps and cutters. Once, when the metal shifted, she jerked her head and made a rough, low sound. He stopped with his hands where they were until she settled, then continued more slowly.
When the jaws finally opened, Ray said his name sharply. Daniel thought he’d missed a wolf moving, but Ray was looking at the freed leg. Daniel followed his gaze and saw the raw band the iron had left.
He eased the trap away and set it beyond her reach.
The masked wolf took one step closer. Both men went still. Its head lowered toward the lion, and it stood there, looking at her; Daniel felt the cold through his wet knee while he waited for another step that didn’t come.
“We need the blanket,” he said at last.
They worked it beneath her with short, careful movements. She scarcely resisted, and that frightened Daniel more than the sound she’d made. Ray gathered the corners at her shoulders while Daniel took the other end, keeping the injured leg supported inside the fold.
Her weight pulled at their hands as they lifted. She was lighter than her length had led Daniel to expect, but the distance to the work car still seemed enormous. They went a few steps at a time, watching their footing on the ties and packed snow.
At the ramp Ray called the pace, one short instruction with every step. They carried her into the heated compartment and lowered her onto the spare blankets. Daniel backed away before letting himself straighten fully.
The wolves had stayed by the track. Through the open door, he could still see the masked one facing them across the snow.
Ray reached for the door. The lion lay where they had put her, her eyes open, and Daniel waited for her head to rise.
It didn’t.
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