Touching the Clouds by Bonnie Leon Read Free Book Online Page B

himself for taking the sighting of the wolves too lightly.
    For several minutes the wolves remained at the edge of the clearing around the cabin, remaining mostly hidden in the foliage. One moved forward, and Paul dropped him. The rest of the pack dissolved into the forest. He calculated how many shots he’d taken—five. He had only one shell left in the chamber.
    Keeping his eyes on the woods, he backed up the cabin steps, opened the door, and grabbed extra bullets from a shelf just inside. Hands shaking, he plugged them into the magazine, then returned to his post on the porch where he remained, waiting and watching. His dogs quieted. The wolves did not reappear.
    A sound came from the side of the house. Paul turned, training his gun at the noise. It was Patrick.
    His friend raised his hands, a rifle in one of them. “Whoa, neighbor. It’s just me.”
    Taking a deep breath, Paul lowered his weapon. “Sorry.” All of a sudden his legs felt weak as the adrenaline wore off. He sat on the porch step.
    Patrick’s eyes went to the wolf lying in the yard and to Paul’s bleeding arm. “Looks like you had some trouble here. You all right?”
    “Yeah. They came at me.” Paul wiped sweat from his brow. “One got ahold of me, but it’s nothing I can’t take care of.” He shook his head, thinking about what could have happened.
    “I heard the shots. That’s why I came running.” The long-limbed man cautiously moved to the dead animal. With his rifle aimed at it, he nudged him with the end of the barrel. “He’s pretty lean.” His eyes moved to the forest. “How many of them were there?”
    “I saw six and killed three. There’s two, dead, on the trail.”
    Patrick turned his eyes to the forest. “They’ll likely be back. We better set out traps.”
    “Good idea.”
    Patrick moved to Paul. “You want Sassa to take a look at that bite?”
    “No. I’m fine.” He ripped the already torn shirtsleeve and tied it off to staunch the bleeding.
    “Might as well make use of the pelts.” Patrick headed toward the trail.
    Paul followed, ignoring the burning in his arm. It would need cleaning and stitching, but that would have to wait while he and Patrick skinned the animals.
    After stretching the last hide, Patrick said, “Sassa’s got supper waiting for me. You want to join us?”
    “Not tonight.” Using his good arm, he gave Patrick a friendly clap on the back. “Thanks for your help.”
    “You’d do the same for me.” He headed toward the trail, his rifle resting on his shoulder. “Take care of that arm.”
    “I will.”
    Paul set his rifle against the porch steps and moved to the dogs. One by one he released them and led them into the cabin. Tonight, they’d sleep indoors.

5
    K ate glanced at the clock. It was nearly noon—time to leave. She’d been wanting to get to the airport ever since Paul Anderson had mentioned it. But with Helen out sick for three days, there’d been no time. Today was the day.
    She handed Mrs. Sullivan her change and a bag containing thread and buttons. “Have a nice day.”
    The kindhearted woman tucked the money into a coin purse. “You too, dear.” She snapped the purse shut, and instead of leaving, she smiled at Kate. “Did I tell you my son is coming to visit?”
    “Next week, right?” Kate managed to conceal her impatience.
    “Yes. I can scarcely wait. It’s been nearly two years since he was home.” She hobbled toward the door, then stopped and turned to look at Kate. “It’s a terrible time for my rheumatism to act up.”
    “Maybe it’ll be better by the time he arrives,” Kate said, wishing she’d hurry on her way. Guilt flashed through her mind. Mrs. Sullivan was a caring woman who deserved her full attention.
    “I dare to hope.” Mrs. Sullivan shuffled out of the store.
    “Have a good day,” Kate called after her. She looked at the clock again and wondered if Helen Towns could spare her.
    Dusting rag in hand, Helen walked toward the register.