only thing that hadn’t changed since he’d returned was his eyesight.

The doctor he’d visited had removed the bandaged and shone a light in the eye. Balto didn’t so much as twitch. The doctor had shaken his head and offered him a patch. Balto had stood up and left without another word. Jenna had met him at the door and when he sadly shook his head, she had done her best to comfort him. As the days passed, he had become more and more used to his current vision.

She and Balto finally passed the residential area and were nearing the small business section of town when out of an alley sprang a figure cloaked in shadows. Before Balto could react, the figure landed an uppercut to his jaw and bashed his good eye with a hard metal something. He then felt a blow to his stomach and the next thing he knew he was thrown into a pile of boxes, which partially collapsed onto him. Clutching his eye with one hand, he looked up and froze.

He was staring down the barrel of a .38 revolver.

Even so, his attention quickly focused on the figure holding it, who had just stepped into the light. Aiming his gun at Balto with one hand and using Jenna as a human shield with the other was Steele. Balto hardly recognized him. His black and white fur was horribly unkempt, and he wore a tattered brown jacket. But despite his outer appearance, Balto could tell that Steele’s muscles had not weakened at all; if anything, they had grown. Above everything else, though, he noticed that the malamute’s normally piercing black eyes were blood-shot and red.

“Steele, you’re drunk,” Balto said cautiously as he shoved a box off his legs, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, wolf-dog,” Steele growled, “I know exactly what I’m doing. Move another muscle and I’ll be the last thing you ever see!”

Balto nodded slowly, glancing at Jenna. She was breathing faster, but didn’t move for fear of Balto’s life as well as her own. Balto reached into his uniform pocket and Steele tensed up. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Balto revealed a gold watch. Steele furrowed his brow.

“What’re you doing, wolfie? Trying to see how much time you got left? I’ll tell you now, it ain’t much!” He jerked his head in confusion when Balto held it out to him.

“Take it,” Balto pleaded, “It’s worth at least a hundred dollars.”

Steele swatted the watch from Balto’s hand.

“I don’t want your stupid watch!”

“Then what do you want?” Balto demanded.

“The one thing I’ve never had,” Steele replied, turning to Jenna. He leaned toward her and pressed his lips to hers. Jenna squirmed and slapped him hard across the face for it. Steele looked at her in shock; suddenly he noticed the sparkling ring on her finger. His eyes narrowed in rage. “You’re going to regret that,” he said, cocking the pistol and leveling it at Balto’s head. Balto’s eyes widened in horror.

“No!” Jenna screamed, pushing Steele’s arm aside just as the gun went off.

The bullet meant for Balto’s head instead found purchase in his shoulder. Balto cried out in pain and gritted his teeth. Steele, outraged at his miss, threw Jenna down on top of him and leveled the gun at them both.

“You won’t be mine, Jenna?” he growled, “Then die together!”

Balto pulled Jenna behind him as Steele cocked the pistol again. Just as he was about to fire, though, a voice came from out in the street.

“Hey, what’s going-?”

Steele half-turned his head and looked. In the street, a man in a trench coat and hat stood with his mouth agape at the scene before him. Steele turned his gun on the bystander, but in that moment, he was knocked off his feet by a blow to the ribs. Balto leapt onto the drunken Steele and twisted his hand, causing him to drop the gun he held. As Steele recovered and began to grapple with him, Balto shouted,

“Run Jenna, run!”

Jenna leapt to her feet and ran into the waiting arms of the man in the street.

“Jesus, lady, are you alright?” he said.

“The police!” she cried to a few others gathering around, “Someone get the police!”

Several young men turned and ran up the street toward the police station. In the meantime, Balto was beginning to loose the fight because of his decreased vision.

“Hey, shouldn’t we help him?” demanded a young high school student standing nearby.

“We better try,” said the first bystander, still holding a terrified Jenna.

Just then, one of the fighters, be it Balto or Steele, took hold of the revolver as they tumbled back and forth on the ground. As the onlookers approached, ready to fight, the revolver went off. The bullet sailed harmlessly overhead, but it was enough to convince the would-be assistants to back off. The ground was quickly becoming red from the blood from Balto’s gunshot wound.

Suddenly, the fight turned deadly when Steele bashed Balto against the brick wall of one of the buildings and held him there. As he tried to bring his revolver to bear, though, Balto took hold of his arm and used all his strength to keep the gun pointing away. But even so, with his wounded shoulder, Balto could not fully resist, and slowly but surely Steele was winning. Every moment, the gun turned closer…until Balto found himself looking down the barrel. Steele grinned.

BOOM! The sound of a gunshot echoed through the street, and Balto opened his eyes in surprise, shocked to be alive. Steele lay fallen before him, blood flowing from a hole in his chest. Within moments, the envious malamute lay dead in the alley. A police officer lowered his pistol and approached Balto.

“You alright, son?” the aged veteran asked, suddenly noticing the gun wound, “C’mon, we gotta get you to a hospital.”

Jenna ran forward and embraced Balto, sobbing in relief.

Epilogue

16 September, 1945, two weeks later

“Do you, Balto Tyrell, take Jenna Parker to be your wedded wife, to love and to hold, to honor and cherish, ‘till death do you part?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Jenna Parker, take Balto Tyrell to be your wedded husband, to love and to hold, to honor and cherish, ‘till death do you part?”

“I do.”

“Then I now pronounce you man and wife,” the preacher said, turning to Balto, “You may now kiss the bride.”

Balto turned and lifted the silken veil from Jenna’s face. Her amber eyes shone with happiness as they met his golden ones in a loving gaze. They leaned closer and kissed gently as the audience clapped and cheered. Among the crowd were Balto’s mother, and Jenna’s parents and grandmother. Kaltag stood proudly as Balto’s best man, and John held the door for the newly-weds.

Outside the front doors of the church, however, the two lovers came face to face with a much unexpected surprise. Before them both stood at least twenty men dressed similarly in the uniform of US paratroopers. Each had the Screaming Eagle of the 101st on his shoulder. A young private was the first to step forward.

“C’mon Sarge, don’t act so surprised,” he said, “You didn’t think you could get married without us being there to see it! After all, a picture may be worth a thousand words, but nothing’s better than meeting the girl in person.” With that, he bowed to Jenna, who bushed and smiled.

A medic stepped forward next.

“How you doing, Sarge?” Doc Roe inquired, “What’s with the gunshot wound? Did a kraut follow you home or something?”

The small assembly burst into laughter.

“God, it’s good to see you all again,” Balto replied, “But why come see me? Don’t you all have wives or families? Or lives?”

“Not right now,” Roe replied, “We’re at your command.”

“Well then, in that case, you’re all ordered to attend dinner at my place,” Balto replied, “It’s time my mom and I showed you how we ‘poor’ farmers eat!”

The End