Part 8
Jack picked up the radio after the morning check-in. He asked to speak to Cal directly, then waited with his eyes on the blanket. Ash was sleeping; June lifted her head at every burst of static.
“What’s happened?” Cal asked.
“I need you to come out. There’s something you have to see.”
“A road problem?”
“No. Something I’ve done.”
Cal was quiet. Then he said he could be there at nine the next morning. Jack agreed before he could turn the invitation into something easier to explain away.
Afterward he contacted the veterinarian who had treated June in August. He described the wounds, answered the questions without calling Ash a dog, and arranged the care the animal needed. By the time he put the phone down, there was no longer a useful way to tell himself this could remain inside the cabin.
He took a sheet of district stationery from the desk. At the top he wrote the date of the November storm, then the date on which he had brought the wolf inside. He recorded both false reports and the inspection during which he had hidden Ash and June below the floor.
The first version contained too many explanations. He started again, keeping the dates and actions, leaving room to describe the animal’s condition. When he reached the bottom, he signed his name and set the page facedown beside his own place at the table.
He did not sleep much that night. Ash shifted painfully when he stood but managed to drink and eat, then returned to June. Jack watched him settle and thought about the twenty-nine clean annual reviews in the file at the district office, with a thirtieth nearly complete.
At nine, Cal’s truck stopped below the porch. Jack met him at the door and stepped aside. He had already moved the extra chair so there was a clear path to the table.
Cal saw June first. Then Ash raised his head, and the supervisor stopped with one glove still on.
“Jack.”
“The one from November.”
Cal looked toward him. Ash watched the unfamiliar man without moving closer; June got up and stood beside the wolf’s blanket. Jack kept his hands away from both animals.
“Sit down,” he said. “Coffee’s made.”
Cal removed the other glove but did not reach for the cup. Jack kept his hands beside the facedown page. He had asked for this visit; now he had to begin.
“You told us he was dead.”
“Twice.”
“And Pete sat in here.”
“They were in the cellar.”
Cal turned his cup without drinking. He asked when the wolf first went outside, how far he ranged, whether anyone else had encountered him. Jack answered what he knew and said he didn’t know when that was the truth.
Then he told Cal about June’s six puppies, about the three days at the door, about watching her eat after she pulled Ash inside. He kept having to stop himself from describing what he thought she understood. What he had seen was enough: the dragging, the licking, the food she left beside the blanket, the mouse and the hare.
He explained the departure and the three days without him. When he reached the return, he pointed out the injuries without asking Cal to come closer. Ash had lowered his head, but his ears remained turned toward the table.
“I couldn’t put them down there again,” Jack said.
Cal looked toward the chest against the wall. “You shouldn’t have put them there the first time.”
“I know.”
“Those rules aren’t all foolish, Jack. A wolf that walks up to a stranger can end up dead. So can a person’s dog.”
“I know that too.”
“Then why didn’t you call?”
Jack rested his palms on the table. The easy answer was that they would have said no. He had used it often enough by himself.
“Because if I asked, somebody else could decide. I didn’t want to give you that.”
Cal leaned back. Jack looked at the report instead of watching for a sign that the answer had helped him. It belonged in the account whether it helped or not.
“June was going downhill,” he said. “I watched her for months. That night she got up, and I couldn’t shut her out again. After that, I kept finding a reason for another day.”
He glanced at Ellen’s photograph. Cal followed the glance but said nothing. Jack turned the signed report over and slid it across; the page made a dry sound against the table, much louder than he expected.
“If this costs me the job, the dates are there. I’m asking you to find a way he can stay here. He’s already come back once. Don’t move him because I’m easier to punish if he goes.”
Cal read the report to the bottom, then got up and went to the window. He stood there long enough that Jack heard June settle onto the blanket again. Then he returned to the table and picked up the page.
“I was at a meeting in Fairbanks last year,” he said. “People working on orphaned wildlife, animals with no straightforward way back. We’ve been talking about a rehabilitation project. Mostly talking.”
Jack waited. He was afraid to supply the next sentence for him.
“This would need the wildlife office. Veterinary oversight. A plan for anybody coming onto the tract. I can’t give you a wolf because I like what your dog did.”
“I’m not asking you to pretend he’s a pet.”
“Good.” Cal folded the report. “I’m not firing you. The false reports get corrected. This goes upstairs with a recommendation, and I will make the case myself.”
He said he would propose keeping Ash at the station under a supervised field study, documenting what had happened and what safe continuing care required. He also wanted Jack involved in developing a better response for the next orphaned animal at an isolated post.
“Until it’s settled, you answer every call,” Cal said. “And you tell us what’s happening.”
Jack nodded. The conditions were plain enough to carry out. He could feel how tired he was now that he no longer had to decide which part of the room Cal was allowed to see.
At the door, Cal held out his hand. Jack took it, then let him leave with the signed report. When the truck had gone, he returned to the blanket and sat where June could rest her head against his leg.
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