Read Online Timberline Trail by Loren Lockner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Loren Lockner
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entryway. The wolf was finally alert and turned his silver head toward her. Like a dog he thumped his long bushy tail, but made no move to rise.
“I think Sugar could use something to eat but I’m hesitant to feed him myself,” said Jon quietly , behind her. She turned and saw his jean-clad form leaning against the door frame. Today he pulled a cream-colored knotty sweater over his long frame and his feet were once again shod in his worn hiking boots.
“I’ve been outside to check on the weather and it looks like the snow is already melting. Hopefully I’ll be able to make it to my camp today,” said Jon. “Do you think you might have something the wolf could eat?”
“I could defrost some beef bones I’ve been saving for soup,” stated Tia, heading into the compact kitchen and opening the freezer. “Were you the one who made the coffee?”
“Yes,” answered Jon, “I thought I could use a li ttle wake up help.”
Tia noted his tired eyes. “Me too. Thanks for making the coffee; I haven’t smelled the scent of fresh perked coffee stealing into my bedroom for a long while. It’s a real pleasure.”
Jon shuffled uncomfortably before giving her his reluctant half-smile. Tia felt a strange feeling in her stomach and quickly cast her eyes to the snow-covered trees in the near distance.
“And if I could trouble you for a razor as well,” asked Jon tentatively. “I’m beginning to wonder what my face looks like underneath all these whiskers.”
“I’ll see what I can rummage up,” she stated gruffly , moving away from the tall photographer and placing the beef bones into the microwave.
For now the generator appeared to be still working and she might as well enjoy the microwave and the mo dern conveniences electricity brought. The emergency generator didn’t carry enough power to run more than the lights and hopefully wouldn’t be necessary this early in the season. The refrigerator ran on propane and the cabin had been skillfully designed by her father and uncle to heat without electricity; the fireplace and wooden stove adequate to keep the chill away. Tia, however, enjoyed the use of her modern appliances, especially the microwave and VCR during the long, dark winter nights and was glad they were still running. While the bones defrosted, Tia rummaged through her bathroom supplies and found a pack of disposable razors left by her father.
“Here you go guys; this ought to make you feel more presentable.”
“You’re a true friend,” laughed Steve, while he packed the old sweats he’d worn for bed back into his bag. “I have first dibs on the shower.”
“Be my guest,” said Jon stiffly. “I’ll help Tia ru stle something up for breakfast and add wood to your stove. It’s gone out.”
Tia wondered at his brittle tone “I have just the thing,” she said lightly. “I baked some cinnamon rolls just last week and froze an extra batch. How about some of those with hash browns and a couple eggs?”
“Sounds great,” acknowledged Jon. He added wood to the cast-iron stove and within minutes it glowed, emitting heat instantly. He then rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands at the sink as Steve showered.
Tia discovered Jon was a quiet worker, quickly setting the table before returning to peel the potatoes, only asking where he could find the grater when it came time for him to shred the hash browns. He wasted little effort on superfluous words or actions. It seemed natural he’d be a photographer; one who used photos to illustrate what a hundred words had to say since he appeared such a quiet and preoccupied man.
“I notice you have a computer,” Jon said , as Tia heard the shower turn on. “Steve mentioned you were a writer.”
Tia wondered if Steve had really mentioned it or Jon had just noticed his slip up from the night before.
“That’s right; I’m a children’s book author and have a friend in LA who illustrates my stories. Elaine comes up to Alaska a couple times a
“I think Sugar could use something to eat but I’m hesitant to feed him myself,” said Jon quietly , behind her. She turned and saw his jean-clad form leaning against the door frame. Today he pulled a cream-colored knotty sweater over his long frame and his feet were once again shod in his worn hiking boots.
“I’ve been outside to check on the weather and it looks like the snow is already melting. Hopefully I’ll be able to make it to my camp today,” said Jon. “Do you think you might have something the wolf could eat?”
“I could defrost some beef bones I’ve been saving for soup,” stated Tia, heading into the compact kitchen and opening the freezer. “Were you the one who made the coffee?”
“Yes,” answered Jon, “I thought I could use a li ttle wake up help.”
Tia noted his tired eyes. “Me too. Thanks for making the coffee; I haven’t smelled the scent of fresh perked coffee stealing into my bedroom for a long while. It’s a real pleasure.”
Jon shuffled uncomfortably before giving her his reluctant half-smile. Tia felt a strange feeling in her stomach and quickly cast her eyes to the snow-covered trees in the near distance.
“And if I could trouble you for a razor as well,” asked Jon tentatively. “I’m beginning to wonder what my face looks like underneath all these whiskers.”
“I’ll see what I can rummage up,” she stated gruffly , moving away from the tall photographer and placing the beef bones into the microwave.
For now the generator appeared to be still working and she might as well enjoy the microwave and the mo dern conveniences electricity brought. The emergency generator didn’t carry enough power to run more than the lights and hopefully wouldn’t be necessary this early in the season. The refrigerator ran on propane and the cabin had been skillfully designed by her father and uncle to heat without electricity; the fireplace and wooden stove adequate to keep the chill away. Tia, however, enjoyed the use of her modern appliances, especially the microwave and VCR during the long, dark winter nights and was glad they were still running. While the bones defrosted, Tia rummaged through her bathroom supplies and found a pack of disposable razors left by her father.
“Here you go guys; this ought to make you feel more presentable.”
“You’re a true friend,” laughed Steve, while he packed the old sweats he’d worn for bed back into his bag. “I have first dibs on the shower.”
“Be my guest,” said Jon stiffly. “I’ll help Tia ru stle something up for breakfast and add wood to your stove. It’s gone out.”
Tia wondered at his brittle tone “I have just the thing,” she said lightly. “I baked some cinnamon rolls just last week and froze an extra batch. How about some of those with hash browns and a couple eggs?”
“Sounds great,” acknowledged Jon. He added wood to the cast-iron stove and within minutes it glowed, emitting heat instantly. He then rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands at the sink as Steve showered.
Tia discovered Jon was a quiet worker, quickly setting the table before returning to peel the potatoes, only asking where he could find the grater when it came time for him to shred the hash browns. He wasted little effort on superfluous words or actions. It seemed natural he’d be a photographer; one who used photos to illustrate what a hundred words had to say since he appeared such a quiet and preoccupied man.
“I notice you have a computer,” Jon said , as Tia heard the shower turn on. “Steve mentioned you were a writer.”
Tia wondered if Steve had really mentioned it or Jon had just noticed his slip up from the night before.
“That’s right; I’m a children’s book author and have a friend in LA who illustrates my stories. Elaine comes up to Alaska a couple times a
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