Wolf Catcher

A Magician’s Legacy Unearthed

In 1939, a tomb is uncovered in Northern Arizona—its occupant lavishly adorned, its contents baffling, and its implications far-reaching. Buried nearly 900 years earlier, the man dubbed The Magician possessed features unlike those of the Indigenous people who interred him. The Hopi workers who helped excavate the grave recognized the signs. This was no ordinary man.

Decades later, investigative reporter Kate Butler stumbles upon evidence that could rewrite history. Her search for the truth leads her into the world of black-market antiquities, where stolen artifacts—and secrets—carry a deadly price. As Kate follows the clues back to the 11th century, she uncovers the parallel story of Kaya, a healer in a high desert village recovering from volcanic devastation. When a mysterious blue-eyed stranger arrives with a massive white wolf, Kaya must decide whether he is a blessing or a warning.

Blending mystery, archaeology, and historical fiction, Wolf Catcher explores how far we’ll go for truth—and how little time changes the human heart.

Discover the mystery. Uncover the past. Read Wolf Catcher today.

Excerpt from the book

1098 A.D.

The azure sky revealed no signs of the violence that had changed the world. Only a pine-scented breeze pressed through a gnarled stand of junipers that stretched along the wash. He closed his eyes and remembered the ragged band of refugees, the lingering sulfur smell of them, and the story they told. The ground, they said, had heaved and broken open, a fissure splitting the earth in a roar of steam and brilliant flames that shot straight into the high desert night sky. The horizon burned with a rainbow of fire—not just orange and yellow, but greens and blues—the heavens saturated with blazing pillars. Red clouds rose up, then settled upon the earth, building the mountain. Thick clods of burning stone burst forth, raining on the terrified people who had tried to save the sacred corn. Tongues of flame battled with lightning strikes that zigzagged across the sky, and streams of orange liquid ran in burning rivers, devouring everything they touched. Had the villagers not moved a good distance away earlier, they would certainly have been consumed by the creature living beneath the earth, angry perhaps that the People had been behaving badly.

A brightly colored blue jay squawked and alighted onto a twisted branch above him. The bird jerked its head, glaring with an obsidian eye. The man smiled at the creature, then turned his thoughts back to the volcano where his father had instructed him to go—the place he was to make the offering. He glanced at the western sky. The journey from his village had been a difficult and lonely trek.

An animal’s howl reverberated off the stone slab on which he sat and melted away grisly visions of his village and the people he had left behind.

He howled back, the sound indistinguishable from that of the animal. Moments later, a huge snow-colored kwewu bounded up the boulders to his side. The beast raised her snout and sniffed the air.

The man pointed to the northwest where he hoped to find the Volcano God’s home. “We will go that way, early in the morning.” He scratched the animal between the ears.

A short time later, he spread his bedroll in a shallow cave fronted by a dry wash and a small, twisted pinyon. He placed the bundle of carved sticks to his left and the shiny stone blade to his right. Clutching the leather bundle he wore on a thong around his neck, he silently renewed his promise to complete his quest and then prayed to the dead for their help.

When he finished, he stretched out in the soft sand, closed his eyes, and reached one last time for the blade. The kwewu turned in three circles before dropping down at his side.