Luis’s pack was heavier with the addition of the tent and camp stove. Just in case the cop was still hanging around, he headed downstream from Cody as if he were following Brandon to Mankeeta before circling back upstream toward the cache of supplies.
Damn Brandon anyway. Leaving Luis to wrangle the mammoths on his own. He wouldn’t miss the company—Luis was always a loner—but it would be damn inconvenient to have to do the loading and unloading without help. And he was already two days behind schedule.
Brandon’s defection also increased Luis’s risk a hundredfold. A sprained ankle or a bout of food poisoning could be deadly out in the bush with no one to help him.
I’ll just have to be careful, that’s all. Self-reliant. He’d come out of this experience a seasoned woodsman.
Belatedly, it occurred to Luis that Brandon had a key to his Fairbanks apartment. Damn it. Ten to one Luis would get home and find his TV and laptop gone.
At least the overnight stay in Cody had ensured that he had a full charge on the satphone and tablet. As soon as he was away from prying eyes, he checked the location of the mammoths. Most of them were still near Jerry’s homestead, between Cody and the campsite where he and Brandon had cached the supplies. He picked up the pace.
By midafternoon when Luis approached the homestead, he was bushed. He stopped where he could observe the hut—he didn’t fancy another run-in with gun-toting Jerry. It was a good thing, too: the wildlife trooper was there, rifle in hand, talking to the homesteader. Damn, Minnie must have pointed the cop straight to where the mammoths were hanging out.
According to the blips on Luis’s tablet, several of the mammoths were nearby. He struck out overland, giving the homestead a wide berth. If he could mount one of the girls, he would save himself some hiking and make a good start on gathering the herd to move on. Once he got the supplies loaded, he’d lead the mammoths away. They could walk all night, taking advantage of the midnight sun. He’d snooze atop Ruby, letting her swaying gait rock him to sleep.
He found Ruby and her yearling Jet with Opal in a copse of new growth on the side of a hill. It was amazing how well they blended into the surroundings. If it hadn’t been for following their blips on the tablet, he might never have seen them.
He approached slowly, making the deep-throated call he’d used when they were small. Brum-rum, brum-rum, brum-rum.
The three stood stock-still, trunks in the air.
“Just me, girls.” He wondered if, in their short time of freedom, they’d learned to be wary of strangers. “Hey-up, Ruby. Opal, Jet, hey-up.”
Ruby came, sniffing and snorting and feeling him with her trunk. He blew out breaths of greeting and soon was surrounded by mammoths, jostling him, snuffling, and blowing.
On command, Ruby knelt and let him mount her. He scratched her woolly head and pressed his feet forward. With Jet and Opal following behind, he urged Ruby east to where the other herd members loitered.
God, it felt good to be riding instead of walking.
Up ridges, across creeks, through stands of aspen, the three mammoths made their stately way—until Ruby paused, trunk in air.
“What is it, girl?” But then Luis heard it, too. Angry trumpeting and crashing of trees.
Without urging, Ruby turned toward the ruckus, wasting no time.
It can’t be the cop, Luis thought. He couldn’t have made it so far from Jerry’s homestead on foot. A hunter, maybe? That could be bad news for both the mammoths and the hunter.
He urged Ruby to go faster.
She made an abrupt stop at the edge of a clearing. It might not have been a clearing a few hours ago, but now a few small trees had been toppled and the whole area trampled. At the edge of the clearing, Emerald and Topaz absently gathered tender twigs to crunch while watching the drama before them.
The young bull Turq, flanks heaving, faced the much bigger Diamond.
Over to the side, Pearl swayed with nervous excitement.
Luis relaxed. No Bigfoot-tracking cop, no avid hunter, just a little masculine scuffle to impress a girl.
The mammoth newcomers spread out, eager to watch the action and take advantage of the tasty browse. Jet watched avidly, peeking out from behind his mother.
Luis remained perched atop Ruby—that would be safer as well as affording Luis a better view.
Turq stamped a foot: a warning.
“Risky, Turq,” Luis murmured. Turquoise was a thousand pounds smaller than Diamond. But what young male didn’t relish the idea of taking on the reigning champion?
What Diamond couldn’t know was that, small as he was, Turq had an inborn advantage—he was the first of Anjou’s engineered hybrids to have the ancestral mammoths’ aggression.
For the first generation of mammoths, Anjou had inserted Asian elephant genes for mild temperament and domesticability, making them relatively easy to handle. But beginning with Turq, Anjou had engineered all the younger mammoths to be truer to the ancient lineage. If the first mammoths were dogs, then the new herd members would be wolves: bigger, untamable, reverting to the fierce nature of the original mammoths. And as each generation grew to maturity, natural selection would do its work. Females would choose the most powerful and aggressive mates. Within a few generations, mammoths would be as they once were, towering in height and strength, intolerant of any attempt to control.
Diamond had greater size and longer tusks, but he was about to be tested by a genetically superior adversary.
Di took a step forward: an invitation to fight or to flee.
Turq accepted the challenge, charging in with a roar.
Tusks clashed. Forehead to forehead they pushed, feet scrabbling for purchase
