CHAPTER 4
November 3
Freya slept off and on, her black ears moving up like hairy triangles when she heard a noise that might mean danger. Her pups were now sleeping. Something niggled at her well-honed survival instincts. She was a herding dog by breed and nature—one of the most intelligent dogs on Earth—and she felt something, a predator, creeping around in the darkness of the forest, following the scent of blood and afterbirth that was still lingering in the air.
She had to move her pups.
Now.
Getting up, she oriented herself. Off to the west she sensed an opening, a way to escape. The smell of water was in the air, as well. She was dying of thirst, not having drank any water in the last twenty-four hours. Deep in the woods, there was only pine trees, downed branches and drying pine needles. At least it wasn’t raining or snowing.
She turned, getting her internal bearings, knowing the wind direction and wanting to move away from it, to get upwind of it if possible. The tops of the pines sang with strong winds that came and went. What to do?
Her guidance told her to take her pups, one at a time, west. She sensed safety there. Picking up the first little black and white charge gently in her mouth, she turned and pawed dried pine needles over the rest of her brood, hoping to keep them from a predator’s eyes that could see through this darkness.
Running, weaving in and around the thousands of trees, she had no idea of how far she’d gone. Suddenly, the tree line disappeared and she halted, breathing hard, the pup hanging in her mouth. There to her left was a wide river, the water tempting her. In front of her was a huge, oval meadow, with more woods on the other side of it.
Her gaze settled on a red-colored box house that sat at the edge of the meadow. Because she was raised by humans, it was natural for Freya to study the darkened, rectangular house. It looked different from the homes in Billings where she had lived with her mistress. This one was long and narrow, and not very large. Spotting a blanket hanging on a metal railing on the rear of it, she trotted quickly toward it, sensing it could mean safety for her pups.
Taking the wooden stairs, she looked to her left. There was a curtain over the window but it was too high and she couldn’t see into it. She smelled a female human in there, however. Humans meant protection to her. Gently setting her pup near the door, she turned, sniffing the green wool blanket hanging over the rail. She turned, allowing her pup to lay on the wooden platform. Moving to the other side, she leaped up on her hind legs, grabbing an edge of the cloth with her teeth and with her downward weight, hauled it off the rail. The blanket fell into a large, jumbled heap in front of her. It was large, lumpy and could be warm enough for her and her pups. Using her paws, she opened it up.
Going over to her pup, she picked it up and nosed it deep into the warm folds of the blanket.
In an instant, she leaped off the side of the platform, making her way to the bank of the river, eagerly lapping up a lot of water. Sated, she sped back into the woods to retrieve her next pup.
Each time Freya returned for one of her pups, the hackles on her burned fur along her shoulders raised in alarm. There was a predator nearby and it was following the scent of the birthing matter. Could she get all five of her pups out of the hidey hole in time?
It was near dawn, the gray ribbon along the eastern horizon barely appearing as Freya brought her fifth and last pup into that woolen blanket. The pups were whining in little squeaks, their eyes closed for at least seven to ten days. They pawed around, over the top of one another, hunting for their mother.
Freya ran back to the river and took another load of water into her heaving body. She was panting heavily, exhausted by the birth and having to run for miles back and forth to keep her pups from whatever predator was closing in on them. She ducked beneath one part of the blanket and with her long nose, pushed the material here and there until her back was against the metal rails, the blanket between her and them. Settling down, she nosed each pup, bringing them to suckle the milk they were looking for.
Always alert, laying back, eyes open, ear pricked, Freya felt the warmth of the blanket around herself. There was only one opening, which was right in front of her and the door to this odd-shaped home. The scent of the woman was on the fabric as well, and Freya felt some of her anxiety dissolve. Her mistress had been a woman, had loved her affectionately, and Freya had loved her. The last sixty-five days, wandering through the mountains, trying to find food, her belly growing larger and larger with the pups she carried, was her only focus. She did not have time to grieve over the loss of her human. The crash sometimes jolted her out of a deep sleep, replaying the fire and explosion in front of her. It always left Freya confused and lost. The home she’d had before was wonderful. She’d been raised with love, care and patience. She’d never been a dog of the land, having a rich green lawn, an acre in size, to run and play upon. Her mistress had driven her around the United States, showing her at major dog shows. Freya liked the activity, loved the travel and loved the excitement of the dog shows. She always made new doggie friends.
Most of all, she loved the contests where she had to herd a group of sheep from one place to another. Stella would give her signals and she’d race around, nipping at the heels of slower sheep, and get them to go where her mistress wanted them to go. She won many championships for her efforts and her human was happy, too—so was she.
Until the crash.
Closing her eyes, fatigue allowed her to sleep while her puppies suckled. Her herd dog brain told her she was safe with humans and houses. But that didn’t stop a predator from finding her, either. She was still leaking fluids from the whelping, and any one of them could follow that trail and find her. It was only a matter of time. Her senses told her the human inside this house would protect her. But how was she to let the woman know she was here and needed her help?
*
November 4
The grayness in the caboose woke Jesse up. She felt drugged with such a deep, healing sleep. The mattress was firm, the pillow soft, and she was warm and cozy, her nose not numb from the cold. She felt delicious. Barely opening her eyes, she saw the clock on the wall read five-thirty a.m. It had been a dreamless sleep, and Jesse was grateful for that, having been awakened so many times in the past by nightmares and flashbacks.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked around. Home. She had a home. A real one, thanks to Travis and his ongoing generosity. And she loved this little boxcar as never before. It brought tears to her eyes momentarily because human kindness didn’t always surface in those months she’d wandered lost and without purpose. Now, her life was starting to come into focus once more. She had two jobs. She’d successfully handled the first day of dishwashing at the Koffee Bean. This afternoon, she would see Travis, which made her feel excited, and she would learn to transfer fishermen’s names to a database at the office. None of this was beyond her intelligence. But it looked easy and low stress, which she needed more than anything else. It had been a brutal downhill fall from grace, from the life she’d known in the military.
But now, Travis was helping her like the guardian angel she saw him as to get her back on her own two feet. Just having a job, a way to pay for food and rent, meant everything to her. She sat up, the covers falling away, stretching her arms above her head, yawning.
There was a strange noise outside her bedroom, the door partially cracked open. Frowning, Jesse honed in on it.
It sounded like scratching. Was it a mouse in the caboose? In her room? Getting up, she turned on the light, looking around the bed and in the small clothes closet.
Nothing.
Frowning, she looked out into the gloom, all the curtains shut, the warmth wonderful to her bare feet as she went to the bathroom. She’d put her clothes she was going to wear in there, along with her tennis shoes. A quick, hot shower would wake her up. And then, she’d make a cup of delicious, hot coffee. Her world was looking up. And it filled Jesse with hope as she shut the door to the bathroom.
Emerging half an hour later, it was six a.m. and there was light filtering into the caboose from the coming dawn. She had washed her hair, combed it into place, dressed and walked out into the main area of the caboose, opening the curtains as she went. The sky was wide and a pale blue above the meadow. Hoping to spot some deer coming to the river, she glanced out at the yellowed grass, seeing nothing moving. The place was quiet this morning.
As she opened the curtains toward the tree line, she froze.
There, just inside it was a huge cougar standing, looking toward the caboose. Her skin crawled with danger.
There was frantic scratching at the back door.
Frowning, Jesse took one last look at the cat who remained motionless, just watching the caboose. Hurrying to the back door, she pulled the curtain back. Her eyes widened in surprise. A black dog with a white blaze, with brown eyebrows above her blue eyes, was frantically pawing at the door, up on her hind legs.
Good grief! What was going on? Jesse opened the door.
The dog whined and sat, thumping her tail, looking up at her.
Jesse leaned down, “It’s all right,” she crooned, petting the dog’s head. Her gaze riveted on the cougar who stood like a statue, watching them through amber eyes. The cat was less than three-hundred yards from where she stood with the dog.
The dog whined, turning, pawing into the blanket that had fallen off the rail sometime during the night.
“Get inside,” she told the dog, pointing toward the opened door. Why was she anxiously digging at the old wool blanket? It made no sense to Jesse.
The dog whined louder, digging harder, refusing to move into the caboose.
Part of the corner flew back from her efforts.
Jesse gasped. There were five newly born black and white pups!
Rapidly, she put it together. Leaning down, she gathered the huge, bulky blanket between her arms, swiftly carrying it inside the caboose.
The mother followed.
After laying the blanket near the table on one side of the home, Jesse hurried to the back door, slamming it shut and locking it. Her heart was beginning a slow beat as she turned, grabbing her cell phone off the kitchen counter. Leaning down, she saw the cougar move—toward the boxcar.
Damn!
Fingers trembling, she punched in Travis’s phone number.
It rang three times before he answered.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Jesse. Travis, I need help. I found a mother dog with puppies on the rear of the caboose and a cougar is following them. I’ve got the dog and pups inside with me. I’ve locked the door. The cat is moving our way. Is there a pistol or gun in this place?” She heard his slurred, drowsy answer, feeling bad that she had awakened him.
“There’s no weapon,” he grunted. “Stay there. I’ll be out in ten minutes. I’ll have a rifle with me. Stay away from the windows. Do you hear me?”
“Yes,” she answered, hearing the sleep torn from him.
The phone clicked dead.
Putting the cell phone on the counter, she saw the cougar walking toward the rear of the caboose. The cat had probably been following the mother. Turning, she saw the dog standing in the center of the boxcar, a low growl in her throat, her hackles, or what was left of them, were standing straight up on her shoulders and all the way down her spine. The pups were okay, nestled in the warmth of the blanket, sleeping.
Jerking open one drawer, Jesse gripped a huge butcher knife. It was all she had. Would the cat attack? Try to break a window and get in? Her mind skipped through many scenarios. She didn’t know the habits of a cougar except that this one had followed the dog here, to her home.
The dog’s growl increased, her body stiffening.
Jesse lost sight of the cougar. Where was it?
Panic struck her. She felt as if she were back in combat. Her hand tightened around the wooden handle of the ten-inch butcher knife. She walked up to where the dog was at, her gaze riveting to the rear window.
Suddenly, the cat’s face appeared in the window, it’s huge paws on either side of it, amber eyes looking in—at them.
Gulping, Jesse felt the power of the cat’s intense focus.
The dog leaped into action, throwing herself at the back door, trying to attack the cougar on the other side of it. Her barks were sharp, ear splitting and her growl deep and filled with hatred.
The cougar dropped back down on all fours, disappearing from the window.
Jesse blinked. What could she do?
Nothing. Oh, God…
The dog barked furiously, throwing herself again and again at the back door, the hair all along her neck and back standing straight up. The barks and growls were savage.
Jesse forced herself to walk to the rear door. Was the cougar still on the platform? Waiting? Figuring out how to get into the caboose? She swiftly turned, gaze snapping from one window to another. The easiest way to get in was through this back door. The window was too small for the cat to actually get in through it, but he could cause a lot of problems for her, the dog and the pups.
The dog whined, spun around, racing toward the window where the pups were in the blanket.
Jesse saw the cougar about ten feet away, in the meadow, studying the window.
This was a window the cat could get through. Her mind moved swiftly, looking at it more closely. It was a single-paned window. Yesterday, Travis and she had discussed replacing them with double-paned windows to keep the heat in the boxcar.
This cat looked to weigh near a hundred pounds, well-fed from what she could tell.
The dog was barking frantically, up on her hind legs, pawing at the frame of that window.
Where was Travis? Had ten minutes passed? Jesse knew from being in combat before that everything slowed down like slow motion frames in a movie. And it felt like a tunnel to her as she watched the cat twitch its tail, looking right and left, and then centering its full attention once more on the window. The caboose echoed with the sharp barks and growls of the mother, who was frantic to protect her brood. So was Jesse.
She pulled a chair from the table away from the window, standing before it. Maybe if she appeared, the cat would be afraid of seeing a human in it. At the same time, she knew the cat could hear the mother dog barking at him. And she knew instinctively that the cat understood the five puppies, a nice meal for him, were inside this boxcar.
The dog suddenly turned, her ears up, looking toward the bedroom.
Was Travis here?
Jesse looked toward the bedroom window.
The cougar suddenly took off, running hard out of the meadow, disappearing from her sight, aiming itself for the tree line.
It had to be Travis!
She ran into the bedroom, pulling back the curtain.
There he was! He was climbing out of the truck, rifle in hand, his gaze on the cougar who must have run into the woods and disappeared.
Heart pounding, Jesse ran to the back door and unlocked it. She first made sure there was no cat around before opening it. As Travis took the stairs, she saw the hardness in his expression, the Delta Force operator, not the man she’d met before.
“He’s gone,” Travis said as she opened the door. “Ran into the woods.”
Gulping, she gave a nod.
The dog came up beside her, panting heavily, wagging her tail at Travis.
He looked at Jesse. “You okay?”
“A little shaken, but yes. Come in?” She turned and put the butcher knife away in the drawer.
The dog trotted over to her puppies, pawing at the blanket. Jesse went over and opened it up so she could be with them.
Travis shut the door, put the safety on the rifle and set it in the corner. He took off his Stetson, staring at the dog and pups. “Helluva morning?” he asked her, grinning sourly.
“Yeah, just a little.” Jesse told him about the cat rising up on its hind legs to stare in the rear door window. Travis had not shaven, the darkness giving his face a more dangerous look, but he was also an operator and she could feel him trying to ramp down just as she was trying to do, from the crisis.
Travis moved to the window at the kitchen, staring hard at the tree line. “Don’t see him. He’s probably laid down, hiding, and going to wait you out.”
Shivering, Jesse said, “I never expected something like this, Travis.”
He straightened and eyed the dog. “Do you know this dog?”
“No, never saw her before.” She wiped her damp hands down her jeans and went over to where Freya lay suckling her pups, still panting. “There’s a dog collar on her. Maybe she’s lost?” She knelt down, crooning to the dog.
“People sometimes drop animals off here because it’s so out of the way,” Travis muttered unhappily, walking up to where Jesse knelt, eyeing the wriggling brood of puppies.
Turning the darkened, somewhat twisted leather collar, Jesse said, “There’s the name Freya on it, and a number. Gosh, the collar is partially burned, Travis.” She gently eased it off the dog’s head, handing it to him. What do you think?”
“Look at her neck and shoulder,” he said. “Looks like she lost a lot of hair in that area.” Taking the collar, he looked closely at it. “I think that’s an AKC number on it. Wouldn’t be surprised if the dog has an identifier chip in her shoulder with a lot more intel. She looks pretty thin.”
“Freya?” Jesse said, petting her gently.
Instantly the dog perked up her ears, looking up at her with adoration.
“That’s her name,” she said. Taking her fingers, she gently moved them along the animal’s neck and back where it was almost hairless. “Travis? This looks burned.” She leaned down, sniffing it. “Yes, it’s been burned off her. What happened to her?” She slid her hand gently across Freya’s broad black and white skull.
“Dunno, but maybe later we can find out.” He scowled and studied the tree line outside the boxcar. “I was thinking of giving you Hiram’s 30.06 last night. I guess I was picking up that you might need it out here.”
“Believe me, I wanted one,” she muttered, rising. “We need to get her some food to eat. I have nothing here for her.”
Travis turned, studying them. “For now, let’s move all of you into my home.” He pointed toward the tree line. “That cat knows Freya and her pups are in here. It will wait you out. You’re not safe here for now, Jesse. You don’t know how long the cat will hang around, or where it’s hiding. It will see you before you see it. The minute Freya goes outside to do her business, he could attack her. And then what?” He pointed to the puppies.
“Damn,” she said, nodding. “You’re right. Will the cat ever leave?”
“Probably when the snow sets in, which will be another two weeks. This is probably either its territory and he’s got a lair nearby. But he’ll always be hunting in this area.”
“I don’t want to kill him,” she said more to herself than him. “Not unless I have too.”
“Freya belongs to someone. I want you to come and stay with me at least for a couple of days until we can sort this out. I can take her over to our local vet and she’ll have a device to check and see if she has a chip in her neck or not. We should be able to contact the owner that way.”
“Good idea.” Jesse’s voice dropped. “She’s so pretty and her pups are just adorable.”
Travis chuckled. “Yeah, nice looking for sure. But if something happened to the owner, Freya already has a home. And I’m sure the owner would be looking for her. Those are Border Collie pups she had, so something tells me she was bred to her own kind for a reason.”
Jesse couldn’t disagree. “Okay,” she said, sighing, looking around at her wonderfully warm, snuggling home. “I hate to leave the caboose, but you’re right.”
“Have you had coffee yet?”
“No,” she said, looking longingly at the coffee pot.
“Let me give Freya a dish of water she can lap from. You make your coffee and I’ll help you pack your stuff.”
Travis was right. “Crazy as it sounds, I’m already attached to Freya. You should have seen her when the cougar was at the back door. She was literally throwing her body at the door. I’ve never heard a dog snarl and growl like she was doing.”
“Border Collies are herding dogs, protectors of the flock,” Travis told her, handing her the coffee pot. “Their instincts are to attack a predator. They’re not afraid if it’s a bear twenty times its size or not, they’ll go after it to defend the lives of the herd. In this case, she was protecting her pups and you. They’re bred to do that.”
“Well, she was so courageous, Travis. It stunned me the ferocity in that body of hers. Her lips were drawn back and her white teeth are sharp. I was afraid she’d try to break that window to get at the cougar.”
Chuckling, Travis pulled the coffee from the cabinet, handing it to her. “I have a friend in town who has a Border Collie, and he’s told me some of the fights his dog has gotten into from time to time. Jacob is about eighty, and he and his dog, Sol, are always fishing the Bitterroot River. There’ve been times over the past five years, especially in the spring, when the grizzly were coming out of hibernation and smelling Jacob’s creel filled with trout. His dog Sol would attack them and chase them off. A Border Collie will go up against any predator. Doesn’t matter the size, they’re absolutely fearless when their protection genes get triggered.”
“I almost find myself hoping that I can keep her. I know that isn’t right because someone else loves Freya, too.”
“She’s prettily marked,” he agreed. “And those pups are too.”
Plugging the pot in, Jesse turned, glad to have Travis in the boxcar with her. Just his size, never mind the rifle he brought with him, made her feel safe. “I’m sorry I kicked you out of sleep this morning.”
Shrugging, Travis said, “It was for a good cause. While the coffee’s perking, let’s get that luggage off the top shelf of your bedroom closet. You need to pack some clothes before we leave.”
“You’re right.” She shook her head. “I woke up this morning thinking how my life was going to quiet down now. I have two jobs. I can pay my rent and buy groceries. And by the way? Thank you for that grocery sack filled with supper for me last night.”
“You’re welcome. And then this happened. Well, welcome to Hamilton, Montana. This is another side of it you probably would not have seen as a tourist,” he teased, his smile warm.
The rest of her anxiety dissolved beneath his low, warm voice and the tender look he shared with her. “You’re right.”
“Still want to stay in Hamilton?”
It was her turn to grin. She halted at the door to the bedroom. “You couldn’t chase me away.”