Part 4
Greg shifted his rifle to the crook of his arm. “That animal killed my dog. You have no idea what happened.”
Mike knew the story. In two years Greg had told it to anyone who would listen, naming a wolf he could never have identified for certain. Orlo had been a fine hunting dog. Losing him had hurt. None of that gave Greg a claim to the she-wolf on Mike’s side of the river, and it did nothing for the pup hidden under her leg.
“I know what happened this morning,” Mike said. “The tracks come down from the den, and I heard shots. Put the rifle down where I can see your hands.”
Greg’s gaze went to the bruise-colored line of sand the river had left on the wolf’s coat. He had watched her disappear from the cliff and had come all the way around expecting to find a body. Mike understood the shock beneath his anger. Paul took one step toward the red husky and curled a hand around its collar. If anyone let the dog go, Mike would have a wounded wolf, an armed man, and an animal that could not tell the difference between rescue and pursuit. He kept his position between the hunters and the bank.
Greg glanced at Paul and Seth. Neither offered to move closer. Seth was watching the radio on Mike’s shoulder. Greg lowered the rifle but kept his fingers around the stock. “You’re going to make a case out of a wolf?”
“I’m documenting what I found. The three of you can walk out by the ford.”
The wolf lifted her head when Greg spoke. Her lips drew back from her teeth. Mike wanted to check the cut along her flank, but moving toward her with the dogs so near would only make her fight. He held his ground and kept the hunters in view. Greg took a step, saw Mike’s hand reach the radio, and stopped.
“Come on,” Paul said quietly. “We crossed the line.”
Greg pulled a folded stack of bills from his jacket.
The rubber band around it had cut a dark groove into the paper. “A thousand dollars,” he told Mike. “You wait up the trail a few minutes. We finish this and get out of your hair.”
Mike looked at the money. On his kitchen table at home was a clinic estimate with the amount his insurance would leave him to pay circled twice. Katie’s breathing had worsened that summer. Her doctor had changed her care plan and arranged a visit with a specialist, and Mike had been moving due dates around a calendar to cover the bills. The cash in Greg’s hand would take care of most of what he still owed.
Greg noticed the look. “You have a family, don’t you?”
“A daughter.” Mike heard the word leave his mouth and wished he had kept it to himself.
“Then take it. Buy her something she needs. You never saw us on this bank.”
The cub made a thin, rasping cry.
Its mother shifted to keep him beneath her chest. Mike could see her trying to brace the injured side, though she had little strength left. Greg extended the bills farther. For a second Mike reached in the same direction. Greg’s face eased, already certain of the bargain.
Mike’s hand passed the money and closed around the radio.
“Dispatch, Hale. North bank below the willow bend. Three armed hunters crossed into the refuge with dogs. I need wildlife response and veterinary transport. Mother wolf and one pup, both alive. Approach from the east service road.”
Sarah, the reserve dispatcher, repeated his location and said a vehicle was leaving. Mike gave a description of the men and their two trucks on the logging road. Greg shoved the bills back toward him as if he could undo the call.
“You think this stops me?” Greg said. “I know where you work now. Maybe I’ll learn where you live.”
Mike kept the radio open. “Dispatch has heard you. Walk to the ford, Greg. Take the dogs.”
Greg’s expression changed when he realized the channel was still live. Paul gripped the husky’s collar. Seth was the first to start down the trail. Greg stood long enough to look once more at the wolf, then followed them. As he went he flung the money onto the sand. It scattered beside the willow roots.
Mike waited until the last dog’s bark was moving away before he crouched to collect the bills. He counted neither the money nor the cost in front of the wolf. He photographed where it had fallen with his work phone, put it in an evidence bag from his field kit, and wrote the time on the label. His fingers shook as he sealed it. The need at home had not grown smaller because he had made the call.
The bills felt ordinary through the plastic. He thought of the overdue notice clipped to the refrigerator and of Katie trying to hide her breathing from him during breakfast so he would not worry. He had an agency vehicle, a radio, and authority on this narrow strip of bank, but none of those things could make a medical bill disappear. He put the bag away before he could turn the money over again in his mind. The wolf’s pup made another small sound, and he called for an updated arrival time.
The wolf tracked his hands, then laid her head down again. Her pup worked his way against her stomach. Mike kept a long distance between them and spoke into the radio once more, asking Sarah how far the vehicle was. He listened to the answer, scanned the trail from the ford, and stayed where he could see both mother and cub until help came around the bend.
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