Chapter 4: You'd Better Not Pout
Nathan headed upstairs to pack his saddle bags with warm clothing and provisions. Bill sat with Allie, talking to her about what she might do over the next few days for Christmas. He had swung by Elizabeth's on the way here and broke the news that he would likely miss Little Jack's party. Although she was visibly disappointed at the news, she understood the need to go and was glad that he would accompany Nathan. She promised to keep an eye out for Allie and invite her to celebrate with her and Jack as much as she could. Bill had no doubt that she would.
——-
It took Nathan twenty minutes to pack. Although Allie would be a few minutes late to church, Nathan was secretly relieved that he would still get to give her a proper goodbye. She and Bill stood by the door. As she pulled back from the older man's embrace, Nathan saw the tears threatening to fall—despite her brave face.
She spotted him descending the stairs, and the closer he stepped the more she lost her battle. She flung herself into his serge covered arms, and all he could do was hold her close and stroke her hair, kissing the top of her head.
"I'll get back as soon as I can," he promised with his whole heart.
"You'll need a Christmas miracle." She sniffled—the sound muffled into his chest.
"Then I'll be praying for one of those," he spoke with sad sincerity that shone through his crystal blue eyes.
"Me too, Dad," Allie promised, hugging him again.
He held her close for another moment more, refusing to be the first to break their contact. He caught Bill's sorrowful gaze before the man dropped his head and pressed his lips together.
—-
Leaving the little white church behind, Nathan and Bill rode North out of town. They had only made it a hundred meters when the familiar sound of a dog's racing paws crunching through the snow caught up to them. Sure enough, Scout panted with his tongue hanging out one side of his mouth.
"I told you to STAY with Allie," Nathan admonished, pointing a gloved finger at the dog.
Scout whined and tilted his head as he continued to trot along nonchalantly next to the horses. Nathan sighed and shook his head. Technically, Scout was his assigned Mountie dog. He wasn't entirely sure whether he had the authority to ban the dog from coming on assignments anyway.
Bill covered his laugh with a feigned cough, causing Nathan to narrow his eyes at the older man. Bill merely cleared his throat and stared straight ahead, fighting a smile.
They traveled the best part of an hour before the heavy tire tracks from Hope Valley split into two routes: Northwest to the mountains or due East towards Edmonton. Most tracks turned East, but at least one set continued North. With most of the addresses for Mt. Crumpit Processing landing North, they decided to head that direction—despite the lack of traffic.
The sun shone down through the clouds, threatening to melt away their tire track evidence, but at least warming their faces. The rays brought a certain beauty, though, as it caused the trees to glisten after this morning's frost on the surrounding branches.
Scout continued to romp alongside the horses—sometimes taking off through the trees after a squirrel. He always circled back, though, empty-handed before his partner had to wait for him. After another hour following the tracks, a stream wove down through the trees, into the valley, crossing their path, and lending a perfect stop for the animals to drink.
Nathan and Bill dismounted and filled their own canteens. Fetching ham sandwiches he had procured from the Cafe this morning from his saddlebag, Bill handed one to the Mountie.
"I'm sorry I had to take you from Allie at Christmas." Bill spoke softly, guilt laced through his statement.
"You didn't, Headquarters did…at least I'm assuming that's what they said since we're out here." Nathan raised his brows in question.
Bill nodded.
"Thanks for coming. You didn't have to do that," Nathan spoke softly.
"I did. It's my fault there's no ham for Christmas. I couldn't let you do this alone. I've got to fix this." Bill's tone had an edge of steel, but his eyes were tinged with regret.
The younger man sighed, "We'll find him, but he could be anywhere by now with a vehicle." Nathan looked up to the approaching mountain pass with a sense of foreboding hopelessness.
Bill followed the man's gaze. "But he's limited to roads, which will help the search. He most likely was headed for a city."
Nathan smirked, turning back to the man. "What? You didn't get the impression he was a small town guy?"
Bill laughed. "I guess it wouldn't be the first three-piece suit in town, but he sure stuck out just as much…only Greene at least was eager to get out of there."
"Now we know why." Nathan dropped his eyes and took a drink of his canteen.
After finishing their sandwiches, the men loaded up and mounted their horses. Scout lapped up one last drink from the stream and trotted again alongside Newton.
The road curved away from the water and deeper into the forest. The nearby mountains had primarily outposts with a few small towns—a city big enough for a man like Greene was likely quite the journey. The weight of his girl's hopes settled heavier on his shoulders. This was the worst part of his job and always had been.
They rode on as a light snow began to fall as they climbed to higher elevation. The forest was calm and quiet with only the sound of hooves and paws crunching through the fallen snow. Despite the circumstances—if he couldn't be with his daughter—time in the woods was truly Nathan's home away from home. The quiet made his thoughts only louder. It brought clarity, and his life had been lacking that lately.
Scout barked and took off like a shot into the trees, breaking Nathan from his revelry.
"I swear this dog is the gift that keeps on giving," Nathan gritted through his teeth.
"Knowing Hargreaves, that's probably by design," Bill mumbled.
Nathan sighed and shook his head, calling out, "C'mon Scout! Leave it! Let's go!"
But the dog's bark only trailed further into the trees. Nathan gave Bill a look of defeat and the men turned their horses after the wayward pup, winding through the cluster of trees.
Though they couldn't see him, they seemed to be gaining on the dog who was frantically barking as if he had finally treed his first squirrel.
As the forest cleared, they found a blue pickup smashed on one side and caught in a snowbank. Sure enough, a Siamese cat sat perched on the leather dashboard, enjoying the afternoon sun and barely acknowledging the fur-ball of a nuisance on the other side of the glass.
"It can't be," Nathan breathed.
A twig snapped not a hundred meters from them and a grunt sounded from the bushes. Both men quickly dismounted and approached the sound silently with pistols drawn.
"Mounted Police! Come on out!" Nathan shouted.
The bush moved, but no person emerged. Instead, a seemingly endless tine of ivory bone raised higher and higher above the shrub. Two sorrowful chocolate brown eyes peered out from underneath the rack as it's darkened neck stretched upward towards the arresting officers.
"I'll let you cuff him," Bill teased, lowering his weapon. "Elk are out of my jurisdiction."
Nathan rolled his eyes. With the motion, he caught sudden movement in the cab of the pickup truck. A shadowed figure sat up abruptly in the driver's seat.
"Mounted Police! Let me see your hands!" Nathan called over to the driver, abandoning the animal, and running at a crouch through the snow. Bill flanked the snowbank side, while Scout continued to bark, circling the truck.
The man raised one hand over his head and struggled to raise the other, though his swollen hand remained visible to Nathan. The man winced at the movement—his suit noticeably stained with the blood slowly trickling down his forehead.
Nathan cautiously reached down with his free hand and opened the driver's door. "You're under arrest, Greene, for stealing from the people of Hope Valley, Brookfield, and any others as well."
"Arrest?!" Horace whined, sitting taller behind the wheel, "I should be rescued! I delivered meat as contracted."
"I ordered ham, not salami," Nathan countered.
The cat stretched and hopped down into her owner's lap, circling twice before laying down.
Horace lowered his good hand down to secure the animal. His long, bony fingers stroked the cat's silky fur as he raised his chin and narrowed his eyes at the pistol-drawn Mountie. "Your contract says 'meat'."
Bill spoke up from the other side of the vehicle, "It was an order for ham or turkey. Where are they, Greene?!"
Horace nonchalantly petted the cat. "Oh, somewhere in Union City I imagine…you received The Christmas Special: 100 lbs of 'Christmas' salami." He spat out the words practically choking on Christmas.
Bill's eyes flared, and the color drained from his face. His mouth began to move though no words came out—as if reading an invisible paper.
"You cheated honest people out of their money and food," Nathan challenged, his pistol still just outside the man's door.
Horace took a deep breath and let out a dramatic sigh, "I'm a businessman. I delivered on contract."
"Your practices are deceitful and will not hold up in court," Bill countered.
Horace rolled his eyes, "Sorry, Mayor. It'll be tough to find a judge this time of year."
A slow grin crept across Bill's face, "You've got one right here. Cuff him, Nathan!"
Nathan stepped forward, holstered his pistol, and took hold of the man's left hand, "Mr. Greene, you're under arrest for cheating the good people of Hope Valley."
Greene muttered, "Good people…they're miserable…I want a lawyer."
Reaching for the man's right hand, Nathan answered, "You can have one, but most aren't available on Christmas. You'll just have to wait in the jail a bit."
As soon as Nathan touched the man's wrist, Horace recoiled in pain. "Hang on, you're hurt. What happened?"
A low moan rumbled from the bush.
Greene gestured with his head towards the sound. "That thing ran into my truck. It's been whining for hours."
Bill glanced back at the bush, effectively hiding the animal. "I'll check the elk. Better wrap that wrist. It might be broken."
Nathan nodded and assessed the man's injuries. He had a minor head wound that was slowly seeping blood from his hairline, and a swollen and tender wrist. Though he complained regularly, Horace allowed the Mountie to wrap his wrist and bandage his forehead. Nathan listened as the pompous businessman relayed his encounter with the elk.
It had been several years since an elk had been spotted in the area. Though they had once roamed freely across Alberta, over hunting in the previous decades had depleted their numbers to practical extinction.
"Just my luck to hit the only deer in Alberta," Horace pouted.
"It's an elk," Nathan corrected, "and it might be luck…or more likely a miracle."
Horace grunted his displeasure at the thought while Nathan cuffed his good hand to the steering wheel.
"I'm going to go assist Bill. You'd better stay here, or I'll be adding charges for trying to escape police custody."
Scout rounded the door and growled, sitting like a guard at the opening.
Horace rolled his eyes, "As if I can push this truck out of the snowbank myself even without handcuffs. I already tried."
"Good. I'll be right back," Nathan promised before heading over to Bill. "Scout, no biting…unless he needs it." The pup barked in response.
Horace's eyes bulged at the comment, and he subconsciously leaned back further into the truck cab—despite his restraint.
Bill looked up at Nathan's approach and answered his questioning gaze before he even spoke. "Not good. He's lost a lot of blood. I think we'll need to dispatch it. It could be hours still before the wolves find him."
"There's your Christmas miracle, Bill," Nathan spoke with a soft smile. "He could feed the whole town."
Bill nodded somberly, "You'd better pray that we can get that truck unstuck and the engine still runs, or we'll never be able to haul it back."
"I'll see what it'll take. Will you….?" Nathan asked while gesturing to the wounded animal.
"Yeah. I'll take care of this."
Nathan turned and headed back towards the truck. He heard a few quiet words from Bill before the sound of a gun and a final thump in the snow.
The truck was pressed neatly into the snowbank, but was only buried at the front tire. Recalling Greene's story, Nathan could see the swerving tire tracks just after the impact where the truck had lost control and slammed into the bank.
Although the truck bed lacked a shovel, it did have the remnants of a broken pallet. Nathan was able to fashion a crude trowel and start digging out the front tire. The physical labor warmed him thoroughly, and he started to sweat under his serge and wool coat.
The unmistakable sound of a motor rumbling in the distance reached Nathan's ears, and he found himself praying that this too was an answered prayer.
Nathan had the tire cleared and the bank mostly dug out when the familiar logging truck rounded the curve. It's black cab and wood lined bed rumbled to a stop as it's window rolled down slowly.
"You boys lost?" Jesse teased, leaning an arm out over the "Coulter Enterprises" painted logo on the door.
Nathan sighed, a smile breaking forth from his lips. "Not anymore. What are you doing out here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Jesse laughed. "I had to run some samples up to Coalspur before Christmas for Lee. He had a few things still to finish before Jack's party tomorrow, and he asked me to go."
"Well, you're a sight for sore eyes," Nathan said with a smirk.
"Thanks, I'll tell my wife," he teased.
Bill approached, washing his hands clean with snow. "Jesse, Can you pull him out?"
"I can try. I've got some rope under that tarp in the back." After securing the rope, Jesse turned the truck around carefully and faced the direction he came.
Bill and Nathan worked together to tie off both trucks. Un-cuffing Greene from the steering wheel and leaving him with Bill, Nathan climbed behind the wheel, fired up the engine, and signaled to Jesse to hit the gas.
In a few minutes, the truck was unstuck. Jesse stepped out from his vehicle and rubbed his hands together. He whistled low, "That truck has seen better days. Who's your friend?"
"He's a prisoner. Horace Greene from Mt. Crumpit Processing, unless that too was a lie." Bill bumped the prisoner forward as he begrudgingly introduced him—though if it was an accident or on purpose Nathan wasn't sure.
"He's the one that delivered salami in place of ham or turkey to Hope Valley early this morning," Nathan added.
Jesse glanced at the man with a worried expression. "We'll get it fixed though, right?"
"Not likely. He says he delivered our orders to Union City. Another opportunity has presented itself, however." Bill added pointing to the bush, drawing Jesse's interest.
He continued, "An elk struck the side of his truck and we had to mercifully dispatch it over there a half hour ago. There's about four or even five hundred pounds of meat there if we can use your tarp and truck to move it."
"Of course. How can I help?" Jesse asked.
"I already started dressing it out, hoping we could carry at least some meat back. Help Nathan prepare the truck bed, and we'll move as much as we can."
Jesse nodded and he and Nathan got to work. It took another hour and a half to move the majority of the meat into the back of Jesse's and Greene's trucks. Bill cleaned himself and his knife as best he could with the snow he had. True to his word, Greene sat huddled in his truck, petting his cat, and pouting over the cold and the unfairness of his circumstances. He was largely ignored by all but his cat—who instead seemed delighted to be curled up in his presence.
The sun was starting to dip behind the mountains when they were finally secured and ready for the journey home. Jesse led the way, followed by Nathan behind the wheel of Greene's truck with a grumbling Horace and his cat in the passenger's seat. Bill rode behind on Hero, tethering Newton at his side. The older man couldn't resist a parting shot to Greene to cut the whining and he'd better not pout on the ride back. Scout was delighted to be the lead dog with his paws pressed up against the dashboard of the Coulter Lumber truck and his snout pressed up against the glass.
Nathan laughed at Jesse's predicament as the dog had originally insisted he ride with his head out the window. Falling temperatures with the sun setting would have made for a miserable ride for Jesse. Scout may have located Greene with his unconventional methods, but a hero's victory ride home would have to be with the windows firmly shut.
Nathan realized that he had a lot to be thankful for. Sure the dog was as undisciplined as they come, but he couldn't deny Scout's instincts. He was secretly thankful the dog had disobeyed orders and came along anyway. His heart filled with hope as they rolled forward. He'd be home in time for Christmas—bringing justice and roast beast for the whole town to enjoy.
A/N:
Thanks for the patience! We had a wonderfully busy Christmas traveling around to see friends and family. There is still one chapter left to wrap this story & then I'll start working on But Now I See & Light From Shadows again. I miss those! Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas & happy New Year to you all!
PS- Hope you enjoyed the continued Seuss-y Easter eggs like the roast beast. Had to work that in somewhere.
PPS- I pulled Jesse & Clara back into the WCTH universe even though this is post s10. They really shouldn't have left & I couldn't picture Mr. Wolf as a rescuer. It had to be Jesse.