Alaska Twilight (6 page)

Then she heard a shout. “Get back, Miki! Go, shoo!” A shrill whistle pierced the air, then another longer one that hurt her ears.

The bear snuffled loudly, an agitated sound. He released her sleeve. She wanted to turn her head to see what was happening, but she was still too terrified to move. Moments later she felt a warm hand on her back.

“Are you okay?” The man’s voice was rough with concern. He rolled her over gently.

She lay in a snowbank and looked up into the face of the Paul Bunyan she’d seen earlier. Tank Lassiter. A worried scowl hovered on his face. “You need a haircut,” she said, then felt idiotic.

His scowl was replaced with a look of surprise that faded to amusement. “I’d guess you’re all right if you’re criticizing my hair.” He grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet.

“Sorry. I think I’m suffering post-traumatic stress disorder.” She tried to smile and found it a bit wobbly. Her face crumpled, and she rubbed her forehead, willing herself not to cry. She couldn’t think with Oscar continuing to bark. “Hush, Oscar. Come here.” She patted her leg. Oscar snapped his jaws closed and scurried over to her as fast as his stubby little legs would allow. He plopped down at her side and looked up at her like an adoring lawn ornament.

“He was a lot of help,” Tank said.

She gulped past the rock that had formed in her throat and looked around for the bear. “What happened to Big Ben?”

“That was Miki. I don’t think he would have hurt you, but you never can tell with a bear. He’s still a wild animal.”

“Miki? You know this bear?” For a wild moment she imagined him as Ranger Smith chasing Yogi and Boo Boo through the forest. She began to smile and had to cover her mouth with her hand.

He stared at her with his hands on his hips, a puzzled expression on his face. Oscar jumped up and began to yip and race around their feet. “Lucky for the mutt that Miki wasn’t particularly hungry for wieners today.”

She giggled harder and tried to stop. He would think she had a loose screw. There was nothing funny about almost being eaten by a bear.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He was beginning to sound annoyed, and she knew he thought she was laughing at him. She snagged Oscar as he passed and finally managed to get her laughter under control. “I’m fine,” she said. “Sorry about that. Laughter is my usual response to stress. Stupid, I know, but there it is.”

“Hey, laughing is better than crying.” His lips quirked up on the ends. He had a nice mouth. Not too full and not too thin. Firm, like he knew what he wanted out of life. She realized she was staring and looked away. “How do you know the bear?”

“I found him after his mother had been shot by poachers. Once he was old enough, I turned him loose. He’s about three now. He still thinks he’s half human, but wild animals are never truly tamed and can revert to their wild nature without warning.”

The dog was wiggling in her arms, so she put him down again. Tank was going to think the dog was a yo-yo. She didn’t like the way she felt stupid around him. “I’ve always heard bears that get too used to humans can be dangerous. Miki was yanking on my arm hard enough to hurt.”

Tank frowned. “It’s never safe to trust a wild animal. What are you doing out here?” he asked. “These ruins are dangerous.”

“I was just looking around.” She folded her arms across her chest. Turning to stare at the cabin again, she realized he might know something. “I heard a couple died in the fire here.”

He propped a boot on the tree stump. “Yes, it was bad. A couple of archeologists who had worked this site for years died in the fire. Luckily, their daughter escaped injury. She’d gone fishing.”

“Their—their daughter?” Haley stammered out the words. She was the only living daughter, and this was the first time she’d set eyes on this cabin in twenty years. “I thought their only child lived in the Lower Forty-eight.”

Tank shrugged. “The father’s daughter, I guess I should have said. Joy. She showed up about two years ago. She was about ten, I think. A lawyer brought her to the Walshes and told Grady she was his daughter. To Maggie Walsh’s credit, she took the girl in and loved her like her own. I heard she looked a lot like the Walsh girl who died in a cave-in when she was little.” He nodded toward the burned cabin. “Joy always maintained the fire wasn’t an accident, but some folks say she’s been a little touched in the head ever since.”

Someone had taken Chloe’s place. Haley knew she should feel something at the revelation that she had a half sister, but nothing stirred beyond mild curiosity. “How old is this girl?”

“About twelve now, I think.”

And she looked like Chloe, according to Tank. Haley didn’t see how that was possible. No one could be as beautiful as her little sister. Chloe was the perfect child, obedient and kind to everyone. Quite unlike Haley. “I’d better go,” she said. She called Oscar, then turned and hurried away.

Tank watched the woman snatch up her walking stick and rush off. Her auburn curls blazed as they caught the sun. He frowned as he realized he’d been thinking about the vulnerability in her amber eyes. She aroused his sympathy, but he wanted nothing to do with this group of glory seekers. He didn’t trust her any more than he would trust Kipp.

He retraced his steps to his cabin. Several times he caught sight of Miki following him from the safety of the brush. He wished he knew what to do about that bear. The animal’s persistent desire to be around humans was going to get him shot. Tank winced at the thought. He had to figure out a better way to orient Miki to being on his own. The bear was still too young to mate, so that angle wouldn’t work. Right now Miki was solitary.

Kind of the way Tank felt. He reminded himself he had his daughter and sister. They were a definite blessing from God, and nothing was going to disrupt their lives—not even Marley’s machinations. Someday Brooke and Libby would be gone too. The thought surprised him. If someone had asked him if he was happy, he would have said yes. He pushed the thought away. There was plenty of time to worry about that. Brooke would be around for another thirteen years at least.

He reached his cabin and realized Chet’s truck was gone. He must have gotten a call to head back to town, twenty miles to the north. Though Stalwart was a tiny blip on the north side of Cook Inlet, the town always seemed to be hopping with transients, fishermen, and trappers passing through. Occasionally, cruise ships even stopped and sampled the town’s wares.

He started toward the door and heard someone call his name. Turning, he saw Kipp and the older woman coming toward him. “Great,” he muttered. He was in no mood to make small talk and pretend he wasn’t irritated by the way the animal activist had finagled his way into the area.

Kipp’s pale gray eyes were as cool as a winter sky, and his smile was no more warm. He introduced the woman as Augusta Walsh, Haley’s grandmother. “Glad I caught you, Tank. I want to get started right away on the documentary. The bears should be coming out to feed later in the day. Where would you suggest we set up camp?”

“Don’t you want to rest the first day?”

“Don’t try to put us off. I’m ready to get started.”

Tank wished he could walk away without another word. “I wasn’t expecting you. I have some things to take care of today. I’ll be over in the morning.”

Kipp’s eyes grew colder. “How far is this place you have in mind?”

“About a two-hour walk, though it may take longer than two hours with
cheechakos
along.” Augusta looked blank at the word. “Greenhorns,” he said. “We have some pretty challenging terrain to travel.” But not nearly as challenging as working with this group. Tank realized he was taking a perverse pleasure in waiting for their reaction. It was hardly Christian, and he should be ashamed. The guy riled him, big-time. “We’ll camp out a day or two at a time, then come back to our cabins for a day or two and go back.”

Augusta grimaced and looked down at her mudcovered boots. “My feet already hurt.”

“We saw a couple of bears earlier,” Kipp said.

Tank saw the suspicion in Kipp’s narrowed gaze. “You can find bears just about anywhere in Alaska. But if you want large numbers, we need to go deeper into the bush. I’ll be over at six.”

Four

J
anine Walker’s office was a no-frills cubicle lined with books that made it smell like a library. The window behind the desk looked out on the Chugach Mountains.
Tenacious
had been used to describe the thirty-five-year-old female attorney, but Marley would have called Janine Walker
tough
. She was tough in high school, but college and experience had honed that quality to a barbed edge. Just what she needed. Her brother-in-law would be a formidable foe.

Marley Gillespie eyed her lawyer. “So the papers have been served?”

Janine nodded. “Your father took them out himself. Tank wasn’t happy. He wants to talk to you. Can you handle him?”

“Of course.” Marley wished she could get her hands on Janine to do something with that freckled, blotchy skin. And that black suit did nothing for her. She should be wearing khaki or army green. Marley folded her hands in her lap and studied her nails. It was time for a manicure. She would have one before she went back to the wilds of Stalwart. And a facial too. She’d need all her strength to withstand Tank Lassiter. “What’s our next step?”

“The judge has ordered a home study. We can hope it will show Tank is gone too much to be a good father.”

“How long before I can get Brooke and get out of there?”

Janine frowned. “I’ve told you this is a long shot, Marley. Most judges are reluctant to strip custody from a biological father.”

Marley’s temperature spiked, and she jerked her head up to stare at her attorney. “He killed my sister,” she said fiercely. “I won’t let him destroy Brooke’s life too. Leigh wants me to do this.”

Janine’s long face softened. “Leigh is dead, Marley. You have to accept it.”

This woman understands nothing about love and commitment,
Marley thought. Janine was an only child. What did she know of sharing soft giggles in the night with a twin sister, of pacts to support one another forever? Leigh still came in the night, her soft voice begging Marley to save Brooke from Tank. And Marley intended to do just that—even if she had to break the law.

She rose and drew out her car keys. “Just take care of it, Janine. There’ll be a bonus if you can get it done quickly.”

“I may not be able to get it done at all,” Janine said quietly.

Marley didn’t answer. She stalked to the door and let herself out into a day overcast with dark clouds that matched her mood. If the law failed her, she’d take it into her own hands.

Haley followed the path beyond the charred cabin to the present dig. Out in the open field, she felt safer. In fact, some of her most pleasant memories were of digging in the dirt with her parents. She stopped and snapped a few pictures of the meadow where she and Chloe used to build snow forts. She found the fishing spot she and Chloe loved and took photos of that as well. The memorial scrapbook she planned was shaping up nicely. And so far, there had been no nightmares. Maybe her shrink was right.

A small cabin stood at the edge of the site. It hadn’t been there when she was here last. A man shoveled dirt into a handmade sieve of wired screen in a wood frame, her father’s favorite tool for finding small artifacts. She stood and watched him a few minutes. About forty, he had black hair that gleamed in the sun as much as the tanned and perspiring skin of his bare back.

He turned and saw her. His eyes widened, and he raised a hand in greeting. “Howdy. It’s not often I get such lovely company out here.” He grabbed a denim shirt that lay across the wheelbarrow and pulled it on. Still buttoning it up, he approached her. He wiped his hand on his jeans, then thrust it out. “Ned Bundle,” he said.

She shook it. “Haley Walsh.”

His brown eyes studied her. “Walsh. You must be Grady and Maggie’s daughter. You look too much like Maggie not to be related.”

“That’s right.” Haley felt tongue-tied at the appreciation in his glance. She suppressed a nervous giggle.

“So sorry about your parents. It was a tragedy. They were brilliant. Thanks to their vision and insight, we know so much more about the first entries of humans into the Americas.” He waved his hand over the site. “They are associated with one of the greatest migratory events of human history—the peopling of the New World. The first Alaskans who created these sites went on to spread across North and South America. As far as Native Americans are concerned, all roads seem to lead back to Alaska. It was the original homeland in the New World.”