It is a gift that may cost him everything
All his life, Jonah Gray Wolf has had an uncanny connection to animals and the power to heal the sick and wounded. Driven from the only home he's ever known by those who wish to harness his gift for profit, he becomes a drifter, working in out-of-the-way towns, never staying long. It's a lonely life, but Jonah knows he's still being hunted--he can't afford to get close to anyone who might learn his secret.
In West Virginia he finds Luce, a tough but beautiful loner who knows all about keeping people at a distance--a kindred soul with whom he might dare to make a life. But the hunters have caught Jonah's scent again. Danger is coming to their mountain refuge--a confrontation that will be decided only by a force of nature.
Jonah Gray Wolf comes to a small Alaskan town as a toddler, carried by wolves; as he grows, he displays a remarkable ability to communicate with animals and to heal. When he heals millionaire Major Bourdain from a fatal wound, Bourdain becomes determined to bring Gray Wolf under his power so that he might live forever. He sends bounty hunters after the enigmatic healer, forcing Gray Wolf to stay on the move, ever a step ahead of his pursuers. The chase leads Gray Wolf to Little Top, W.Va., where he meets Lucia Andahar, a loner like him who is being tormented by a sadistic stalker. They fall in love and come to one another's aid almost immediately. When a spectacular rescue makes him media fodder, Gray Wolf is forced to make a stand to protect himself and the woman he loves. Veteran author Sala (Nine Lives, etc.) crafts two exciting leads bound by their love of animals and reluctance to trust people. (Apr.)
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Showing 1-2 of the 2 most recent reviews
1 . Great read
Posted November 24, 2010 by LAW , ALSharon never fails me, Love ever thing she writes!!!!!
2 . A Miss
Posted September 25, 2010 by lynda , summerfieldThe plot and dialogue are not as good as Sharon Sala's usual book. Very simplistic.
March 31, 2008
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Excerpt from The Healer by Sharon Sala
The rangy gray she-wolf, still thin from the passing winter, paused at the edge of the tree line above the valley. As she lifted her nose and sniffed the air, the hair on the back of her neck rose. She could smell the danger. Every instinct she had told her to turn and run, but the pup beside her had needs she couldn't provide.
At that moment the pup whined. When she turned and licked its dusty face, it wiggled with pleasure. As much as she would like to lie down, time was not on her side. She nudged the pup gently until it latched on to her pelt. With a single whine of reassurance, she started forward, confident that it would follow as she started down the gentle slope into the valley below.
* * *
The spring sunshine in Snow Valley was a welcome respite from the bitter Alaskan winter and the months without sunlight. It took a special kind of people to be at peace with a world that had months without sunlight, then months without darkness, but the native Inuits were just such a people. It took more than funky geography and quixotic weather patterns to stagger them. They'd been here for centuries and were at peace with their world.
Today, a brisk wind was coming down from the slopes, whipping among the simple wood-frame buildings housing the hunting camp and the small contingent of people who lived there, popping and yanking at the fresh laundry the women had hanging on their clotheslines.
A bush pilot named Harve Dubois, originally from Biloxi, Mississippi, had a small house on the south edge of the tiny settlement, next to the landing strip, which was the only way in and out of the camp. He'd been in residence for almost twelve years now and considered himself a replanted Alaskan. During the different hunting seasons, he flew hunters in and out of the area with his Bell Jet copter. In the off-seasons, he had a propensity for hibernation, at which times he retreated to his cabin with a case of Jim Beam and a grocery sack full of paperback thrillers.
Doctor Adam Lawson lived on the other edge of the hunting camp. He'd been brought in more than six years ago on a mercy mission when an unfortunate hunter had met up with a pissed-off grizzly. The hunter's gun had jammed, and then the grizzly had jammed him up one side and down the other. By the time the doctor had patched the hunter up enough to be flown out, he'd fallen for the people and the place. He'd come back the next spring on his own and had been there ever since.
A man named Silas Parker was the owner of the camp and lived and worked in a small, two-story A-frame. The lower floor was devoted to a sort of grocery and dry goods store, in which he stocked a wide variety of ammunition and a lesser amount of canned and dry goods. The second floor, which amounted to two very small rooms, was where he lived and slept.
The rest of the residents of Snow Valley were mostly Inuit and had been here longer than God. At least, that was what Harve claimed. Adam Lawson figured it was just the opposite. God had put them here. They'd just had the good sense to stay. The Inuit men were good hunting guides, and a large number of them were often away from the camp with hunting parties for long periods of time, which periodically left the women and children alone.
The recent good weather had spawned a flurry of expeditions, which meant the women were taking advantage of extra time alone to do a little spring cleaning. With the below-zero temperatures behind them, the good weather also allowed their children to play out in the fresh air and sunshine.
Some of the older children were involved in a game of softball. Others were playing tag or hide and seek. A pair of six-year-old twins who went by the names of Shorty and Bubba were sitting in the middle of the road that snaked through the village, drawing pictures in the dirt with sticks.
As they sat, a strong burst of wind lifted the dirt in which they were playing, blowing bits of grass and sand into their eyes. Shorty, the older twin, frowned and closed his eyes, while Bubba, the taller one, quickly turned away, shielding his face from the debris. As he turned, he happened to look up the road. Seconds later, he jumped to his feet, squinting his eyes against the sun, unable to believe what he was seeing. Then suddenly reality surfaced. He grabbed his twin by the hair, and started pulling on him and screaming, "Run, Shorty, run!"
Shorty reacted without question. Together, he and Bubba ran full tilt for their house, which was less than fifty yards away, screaming as they went. Their screams brought not only their mother, Willa, running, but others, as well.
"Mama, Mama...wolf!" Bubba screamed as he pointed up the road.
Willa needed only one look to begin echoing his cries.
"Wolf! Wolf!" she screamed, and began shoving her boys toward the house as the other women began a frantic search for their own children, desperate to get them inside.
* * *
The she-wolf stopped. She heard the screams. She smelled their fear. It was all the warning she was going to get. She wanted--needed--to run in the opposite direction.