By dinnertime, everyone in Redstone was talking about the standoff between the logging company and the conservationists that was going on in the forest north of the town. News of the situation had spread like wildfire and already people were lining up on one side or the other. As far as Noble and the others could tell, the two groups were pretty much split equally. The nature lovers, led by Donna Hughson, wanted to preserve as much of the forests as they could, especially those parts that were closer to town. Others supported the loggers because, after all, the town’s lifeblood was the forestry industry. To chase away a logging company for whatever reason was just bad business. Of course, there were rumors that Tyler Allen Ceballo and his Conservco cronies had been freely spreading fifty- and hundred-dollar bills around Redstone to buy people’s support—especially in Clancy’s bar—but no one seemed willing, or able, to admit to taking the company’s money just yet.

After they ate, the pack transformed into their wolfen forms and headed up to the camp to see for themselves what was going on.

When they arrived a half hour later, they took up a position behind a stand of trees where they could watch unnoticed from the road. The logging company equipment was parked in a crude semicircle, forming a wall between the roadway and the section of forest they were planning on clear-cutting. The loggers were all standing in front of their machines, arms crossed and watching the opposing sides clash in front of them.

On the right side of the road, a dozen or more pickup trucks were parked on the shoulder, with countless burly men—mainly lumberjacks, hoping to get hired on once the cutting started—milling about their trucks, chatting amongst themselves, smoking cigarettes, and every so often drinking Kootenay from a can. Whatever they were doing, they were doing it with an eye on the spectacle taking place across the road.

On the left side of the road, Donna Hughson, Daisy, and four friends had begun to make their stand. Overnight they’d constructed signs and placards that read: LEAF OUR FORESTS ALONE and REDSTONE IS NOT FOR SALE! They were now chanting and walking in front of the loggers in an endless circle.

“Please, please, save our trees!” they shouted in unison, with Daisy punctuating the chant with irregular barks.

And then, through the megaphone she usually used at the annual community center garage sale, Donna Hughson piped up, “No deforestation without public consultation!”

It was an odd sight, all those lumbermen standing around watching four tiny gray-haired ladies and a dog fighting the good fight.

Not much of a fight, but at least it was a start.