A nurturing and pampered dog’s primal instincts return when events find him working as a sled dog in the treacherous, cold Yukon during the gold rush era days of the 19th century.
Excerpt from the book
Angry but his strength waned, his eyes flashed, and he knew nothing when the train was flagged and two men threw him into a baggage car.
The next time he was aware, he was dimly aware that his tongue was hurting and being jolted into some sort of passage. The shrill screech of the locomotive whistling over the crossing told him where he was.
He had often traveled with the judge so that he did not feel like riding in a baggage car. He opened his eyes, and in them came the unbridled fury of a kidnapped king.
The man freed his throat, but Buck was too quick for him. His jaws were locked on his hand and he wouldn’t rest until his senses were drained from him once again.
“Yes, fit,” said the man, hiding his broken hand from the porter, who was attracted by the sounds of the struggle. “I’m taking Frisco to the boss. There’s a crack dog doctor there who thinks he can cure ’em.”
Of that night’s ride, the man spoke most eloquently.
