Free Timberline Trail by Loren Lockner

year to photograph her backgrounds and then, using my text, creates the most incredible scenes. I believe that my stories and picture books would be nothing without her.”
    “Just a s my photos would be insignificant without Ben’s text. I’m sorry,” he admitted stiffly, “but I’m afraid I’ve never read any of your books.”
    Tia gave a short laugh. “Well, you’d probably only enjoy them if you were 6 to 10 years old.”
    She cracked half a dozen eggs and added milk, salt and pepper, and bit of onion flakes for flavor b efore beating them into the frothy mixture.
    “So I take it you like your solitude then?”
    “I love it here,” answered Tia truthfully. “I find the scenery and quiet a genuine motivation for my stories. The peace enables me to create. You probably find Alaska does the same for you?”
    “It’s true,” agreed Jon , walking to the sink and rinsing off the grater. “I’ve traveled a great deal as a photographer, but this region is one of my favorites; though I must admit Nepal and the Amazon basin have captured my imagination as well. Your last name is Heath right?”
    “Yes,” replied Tia. “Why do you ask?”
    “I saw the photograph on the shelf above your computer and I swore I recognized the man in the photo. He looks just like Anthony Heath of Heath Enterprise.”
    Tia straightened stiffly. “He’s my father.”
    “Oh,” was all Jon said , but the monosyllabic tone indicated a great deal. He must have heard the sensational stories about her father regarding the murder of his long-time partner and friend, Andrew Carson. Happily for Tia, Jon didn’t pursue the matter instead stating simply, “Then this must be a lovely place to get away from it all.”
    Fifteen minutes later a scrubbed and attractive Steve joined them. The hash browns sizzled in butter next to several strips of honey-cured bacon as Tia poured the omelet mixture into a greased pan.
    “The shower’s all yours Jon. So what’s that wonderful smell?” he asked Tia, scarcely glancing at Jon who wiped his hands on the kitchen towel before heading for the bathroom.
    “Home made cinnamon buns. You can take out the butter and then flip over the hash browns. I think the bones are ready to feed the wolf.”
    “You be careful,” intoned Steve , once again looking nervous. It was clear he had forgotten the injured canine for awhile.
    “Here Sugar,” soothed Tia , cautiously opening the entryway door. The wolf struggled to rise to its feet but failed, sinking back onto the heavy rag rug that covered the floorboards. “It’s okay sweetheart, you just relax. Here’s some water and a couple juicy bones to gnaw on. Good boy, good boy.” Tia slowly placed her hand upon the wolf’s head, relieved to hear the thump of the loafer’s tail upon the wooden floorboards. She spoke gently and softly for a few minutes but kept her hands away from the vicinity of the bones, recognizing the wolf’s keen teeth could unknowingly shred her arms to pieces if she was silly enough to handle the bones near the wolf’s jaws.
    “How is he?” came Steve’s deep voice from b ehind her. Sugar turned his head and suddenly gave a warning growl.
    “Whoa!” exclaimed Steve, backing away from the door. The wolf continued growling at Steve’s image through the small pane of glass in the door.
    Jon had been right abo ut the wolf, thought Tia. No longer as tame as Tia remembered, any newcomer was now perceived as a threat. Tia rose slowly, sadly making sure she made no sudden movements that might distress the wolf, and eased out of the doorway, latching it securely once again.
    “He used to be so tame,” lamented Tia. “I guess I should be grateful he’s acclimating himself to the wild and becoming less used to human ways, but in some ways it’s sad to see him revert so completely.”
    Steve retreated to the kitchen and nodded ruefully back at her. “He’s a wild animal and that’s to be expected.”
    The smell of bacon mixed