Instead of heading back towards the ranch, Billy inched his way slowly towards the lip of the draw. He wanted to see this wolf that had caused all of the excitement today. His patient approach was rewarded by a sight that took his breath away. In the draw, next to the picked clean carcass of a jackrabbit, lay a beautiful wolf. It was much larger than the biggest German Shepherd, but it had the same markings. Its thick fur glistened in the frosty light. Billy now understood why his people held the wolf with such deep regard. This wolf had no tracking collar. Billy knew that his brothers in Idaho of the Nez Pierce tribe had been instrumental in getting wolves reintroduced into the neighboring western states. Billy figured that without a collar, this wolf was probably not one of those pioneer wolves. More than likely the wolf had emigrated in from Canada. Whatever the case, the wolf was here. As he watched he felt a puff of wind on the back of his neck. The breeze that had been blowing into his face now blew towards the resting wolf. The wind carried Billy’s scent directly to the wolf. Instantly the wolf was on its feet. The hair on its back bristled and it uttered a low warning growl. Although he was not fearful, Billy did feel concerned when he realized that his rifle was still in its scabbard. Both scabbard and gun were probably half way back to the ranch by now. As he looked on, the wolf purposefully trotted out of the gully. It looked back only once towards the human whose scent it now strongly detected. He continued to trot across the field until he was far onto the open expanse of grassland. The wolf finally disappeared from Billy’s sight as he trotted into some brush. Billy let out a sigh of both relief and awe. Blake and every member of his tribe would be amazed at his encounter with the wolf.
After a long walk in the snow, Billy arrived back at the ranch. Just as he suspected Samson awaited him. The horse snorted sheepishly as he waited for Billy to unsaddle him and rub him down. Billy didn’t even bother to chastise the runaway. “Samson, I’m sure that your forefathers knew that wolf scent means trouble. I don’t blame you for running off but couldn’t you have waited up at least one time for me?” For a reply, the horse just grunted, and devoured the oats Billy had left for him. It had been a long exciting day for both of them.
That night as Billy lay awake in bed, he heard a long mournful howl. He knew that this was no coyote. It could only have come from his friend the wolf. Since there was no answering call, he knew the wolf must be alone. The only thing that troubled him was that the howling had come from close to the cattle pens. Nothing I can do about it thought Billy, as he drifted off to sleep. Down on the porch, Pete and Max both lifted their heads from dozing, and growled nervously.
Their noses quivered in unison as they searched the night air currents for whatever had aroused them. The scent that reached their nostrils was one they had never smelled before. Instincts told them both that whatever animal was out there was one neither to be trusted nor trifled with. The hair stood up on their backs as they both growled again. Soundlessly they left the porch and padded off towards the pasture. For years they had been working as a team and they needed no human guidance for the challenge they now faced. As the dogs split up, some primal instinct directed them to try and find the path that the unknown intruder had taken. At last Pete caught the scent he had been searching for on a path that led directly to the cattle pens. He barked once sharply to let Max know his intentions. But unknowingly, this bark had put them both in perilous danger.
CHAPTER 11
The trail Pete followed was fresh. As a ranch dog, he was afraid of nothing that prowled in his domain. Therefore he rushed forward instead of waiting for Max. A cow dog is taught to protect the cattle from anything at any time. Pete had tangled with coyotes numerous times, but nothing in his background could prepare him for a confrontation with a wolf.
He was so intent on trailing his canine nemesis that Pete almost ran into him. The wolf had snuck into the pasture, pulled down a yearling calf, and was feeding on it. The wolf’s attention had been on eating, but he was now alerted by the dog’s bark. When Pete saw the wolf he didn’t hesitate and sprang up to meet his enemy. In an instant the fight was on. Pete was greatly outmatched due to the wolf’s strength. This was not a coyote, which would bark once or twice then flee. Pete was fighting the most powerful canine on earth. The wolf soon gained the advantage and rolled Pete on his back. His gaping mouth sought Pete’s throat. The wolf would have quickly snapped Pete’s neck if it hadn’t been for the dog’s thick leather collar which disrupted his grip. The wolf finally found the soft spot he was looking for and began to lock Pete’s exposed throat in a death grip. The dog’s struggles gradually decreased as the wolf applied steady pressure. Death for the dog would have been a certainty if Max hadn’t piled on the wolf at the last second. The wolf quickly released Pete’s throat and turned his attention to the new set of teeth that were clamped down in his back leg. Max hung on to the wolf’s leg with all his might and bit down as hard as he could. The wolf immediately spun around, grabbed Max by his back hackles, and tore him loose from his damaged leg. With a twist of his head he flung Max into the snow, tearing a large gash in Max’s back. The dog rolled in the snow and let out a tremendous yelp of pain.
Billy bolted upright in his bed; he had been awakened by Max’s cry. He immediately ascertained by the tremendous amount of noise, that the dogs were fighting something outside. At least one of them was in deep trouble. The only thing he knew that would fight two dogs so viciously would be a wolf. As he threw his boots on and ran to get the rifle, he chided himself at being so lax about the wolf’s presence. He ran from the house towards the sound of the fight. The flashlight in his hand blazed a beam of light that danced up and down as he ran. It seemed like forever, but in less than a minute he had caught up to the battle. He played the flashlight over the three struggling animals. It was clear that the same wolf he’d seen earlier was in a battle to the death with the two ranch dogs. Billy knew there would be time for just one shot and he quickly took it. As the loud boom echoed in the night air, the two dogs realized that help was near and they leapt clear of the snarling wolf. The wolf sprang to his feet and streaked off into the darkness un-hit. A tiny puff of smoke rose from the gun barrel that was pointed up into the sky.
Billy had decided that he would not kill the wolf if he didn’t have to. Hoping to frighten off the wolf he had fired straight up into the air. It was an emotional decision to let the wolf go. He was torn between the right thing to do as a ranch hand and the way his tribe’s customs governed him to act. Luckily the shot had scared the wolf off and allowed the dogs to break free. He knew that he would have killed the wolf if his plan had failed.
As he knelt beside the dead calf, he immediately deduced several things. First it was a late calf from last year. It would never have grown into a high dollar cow like most of its stable mates. Secondly, the calf had died quickly of a broken neck. Billy decided to salvage the carcass. He’d eat beef three times a day until the calf was completely consumed.
As he walked back to the porch he found both dogs under it. After a quick exam he decided both would be okay until morning when he would take a more thorough look at their injuries.
By the time he’d hung up the calf and skinned it, the first rays of sun were poking over the horizon. As he cut chunks of meat from the calf he realized just how happy he was that the wolf had not killed a mature animal. This young cow was small, about the size of a full grown mule deer. He’d been successful at hunting enough times so that he knew the correct way to process an animal of that size.
Later that morning he wrapped and labeled the last of the packages of meat and put them in the freezer. The dogs had been hanging around and begging for scraps with which he happily obliged them. Other than being cut up, the dogs seemed okay. They had been extremely lucky that the wolf hadn’t had more time to battle them. Billy poured hydrogen peroxide into their cuts which caused the dogs to yelp, but he knew it would help prevent infections. He’d bring them to the vet if there were any signs of complications.
Billy figu
red that after the wolf had fought with the two ranch dogs, it wouldn’t show its hide around this neck of the woods for a long time. He had the option of reporting it to the authorities or even tracking it down in the snow himself. Part of him knew his job was to take care of the ranch. That obviously meant making sure that the wolf would never prowl this rangeland again. He also knew it was wrong to cover up the death of the calf, but in the end, he decided to say nothing about the wolf at all.
CHAPTER 12
In the weeks that followed Billy kept up his grueling routine. If anything, the coming of spring meant an even harder day’s work. Calves were born during the spring and if they were not cared for properly, then an entire year’s profit would be lost. Luckily the Johnstones had arranged for a team of two Mexican ranch hands to help out during this critical time. Their names were Pedro and Rey. They spoke little English but Billy learned quickly that they knew exactly how to work with cattle. As a matter of fact, Billy learned more about ranching from these vaqueros in two weeks than he had known in all of his previous life. The two weeks of prime calving season passed quickly. Many calves were born and often times this happened at odd hours. So it was not unusual if Billy found himself up at two in the morning standing knee deep in thirty-five degree mud helping a reluctant calf successfully enter the world. After the three men had ensured the cattle were all properly cared for, the new calves and their mothers had to be separated from the other cattle. This involved placing them into separate enclosures. A job made more difficult by the fact that the new mothers were prone to fight when anyone came near their calves. Those jobs usually took up most of lunch time, so it had to be eaten as rapidly as possible. Tortillas and beef were the usual meal.
After lunch all of the cattle had to be fed. Since these were beef cattle, they required extra food so that they would fatten up to their required weight. Therefore countless bales of alfalfa had to be hauled from the cavernous barn. This task would last until well in the afternoon. The evening chores would consist of filling up water troughs, fixing fences, shoveling manure, and snow, taking care of the other animals and finally taking care of any personal chores. The days flew by and ran together in a jumbled and exhausting flow. They were complete prisoners to the needs of the cattle.
One day in late spring, Pedro approached Billy and said, “We about got things all finished up for dis year. Maybe tomorrow we take three of the horses out and check all the fences.”
Billy didn’t have to think twice, he almost shouted, “SURE!” He was very excited about the prospect of going out on a ride with Samson.
The next day the three riders set out into the chilly spring morning. The last time two cowboys and an Indian rode through here, they were probably shooting at each other. Billy chuckled at the thought. The horses trotted out in an easy ground eating pace. They had many miles of fences to check and all day to do it, so the men were in no hurry. Every so often they would come to a section of fence that was completely broken through or had a strand or two of wire missing. When this happened the three men would dismount, grab the coil of wire and the proper tools and mend the fence. They also had to clear the fence of brush and make sure the metal posts were still solidly anchored into the ground. The men talked and joked as they rode. They were happy to be at the end of a very long period of grueling work.
About noon the men stopped to make lunch. Pedro brought an old blackened coffee pot and a small Dutch oven out of his saddle bag. Rey found a dead cottonwood tree and broke off some of its branches. These he snapped into smaller pieces, and with them he was able to kindle a fire. Pedro filled the coffee pot with clean snow and set it next to the roaring fire. The pot began to hiss as the cold metal met the blazing fire. The fire began to die down a little and some good coals appeared. Using a stick, Pedro pushed some of the glowing embers away from the fire. He covered these with a thin layer of dirt that had become exposed because of the fire, and onto this layer he put the Dutch oven. He opened the lid of the pot and gestured for Billy to have a look. Inside he saw a frozen mixture that was comprised of a red sauce with hearty chunks of beef mixed in.
“Carne asada,” Pedro explained.
He placed the pot next to the coffee and eventually it too began to steam.
The three men sat on a log by the fire and warmed up their hands. Although winter was just about over, the damp cold hung late this year like an unwanted house guest. As his two friends chatted together in Spanish, Billy decided to stretch his legs and scope out this unfamiliar country. He heard voices behind him and smiled as Pedro and Rey joined him.
“The carne asada got to simmer a while till it’s done. Let’s see what going on over dat rise.” Rey suggested.
The three men topped the rise and found themselves looking out at the sage covered hills that sloped up to the timbered ridges so common in this country.
“We can almost see all de way to Canada from here,” exclaimed Pedro.
The sight of such unspoiled beauty was certainly worth the walk. Suddenly in the distance Billy could hear Samson snorting urgently. Soon the other horses’ cries could also be heard. The three men hustled back to camp. Nothing had been disturbed yet the horses pulled at their ropes and acted very nervous. It was obvious that something had spooked them. Suddenly Rey cried out and pointed to some tracks in the snow. He spoke in rapid Spanish. Billy knew a smattering of the language but not enough to keep up. He didn’t need translation for the one word repeated excitedly several times; “lobo” or wolf!
CHAPTER 13
The huge tracks were plain to see. They came out of the brush and passed within thirty feet of the picketed horses. The two Mexican cowboys squatted down and eyeballed the tracks.
Pedro motioned Billy over. “He is not el gato grande, or as you call it, cougar. Look at his tracks.”
Rey silently pointed to the five distinct claw marks in the track. “The cougar, she keeps her claws in when she walk, not el lobo.”
Billy went to check on the horses while the other two men split up and began tracking the wolf. The horses were still rattled, but Billy’s calm soft words settled them down.
Rey spoke excitedly as he returned. “He was watchin us de whole time. Good thing them horses say something or we would have lost them for sure.”
Billy wasn’t that easily persuaded that the wolf was out to harm the horses. His thoughts were confirmed when Pedro returned from following the direction the wolf had taken. “The wolf, he don’t stop for nothin. He running so fast he might be in Canada by now.”
Billy grinned to himself. He was rooting for the wolf. He realized however that his two friends might not be as lenient towards the intruder.
The wonderful aroma of lunch brought the men back to the fire. The food was delicious and the men had worked hard. Their appetite proved it. After the last of the spicy meat had been scooped up by tortillas and eaten, the men squatted silently around the fire.
At last Pedro said, “We goan have to watch the cattle closely now el lobo is here. He goan be hungry this time of year and he’ll be lookin for a fat calf to steal. We best take shifts so somebody always be awake at night with the rifle, ready to shoot him if he come around the cattle.”
Billy nodded along with the other men. He wasn’t sure if he could kill the wolf, but he didn’t want his friends to know that.
“Well boys dats enough excitement for one day,” said Pedro as he untied his horse. “We best be getting back to the ranch before dark.” The other two men got their horses ready in silent agreement with Pedro.
The journey back was bone chilling because the wind had begun to pick up. Billy noticed that along with the increased wind, huge gray clouds had begun to form. It was obvious to all of the men that a storm was building. Even the horses seemed to sense the change in the weather. They picked up their pace, eager to get back to the safety of the warm barn.
As the men and their horses exited the drafty valley, a set of eyes watched them go. A wolf’s cry echoed after them, its war
ning went unheard in the howling wind.
CHAPTER 14
The storm that blew in that night was an unusual one for spring time in northeastern Washington. Normally the weather was mild and pleasant, with only the nights being cold. But this storm was spawned in the northern Canadian plains. It swept down into the U.S. and combined with a moisture filled storm coming from far out in the Pacific nicknamed the Pineapple Express. The frigid air combined with abundant moisture to produce a whopper of a blizzard.
Billy and his two amigos sat close to the blazing wood stove. Power at the ranch had gone out hours earlier, a victim of the fierce wind. They had plenty of firewood, and with candles to provide a bit of light, the men were comfortable enough. The only thing that disturbed their night was the fact that the animals needed to be checked every couple of hours. The men had agreed to take turns so as to fairly spread around the discomfort of riding out into the storm. Billy had the second shift which began at midnight. Pedro, who had just finished the first shift, came in and shook the ice off his coat. He nudged Billy’s sleeping bag gently.