Kipp spoke in a soft, confident voice. “I’m just going to watch you catch fish for a while. You’re doing a great job.”
The closest bear, the smaller of the two and the only one she’d really call brown, swung its head around and regarded him curiously, then waded into the rushing water. It ducked its head under the stream and came up with a fish in its mouth, then carried it to the shore. It sat down and held the wiggling fish in its paws and began to eat it.
“Good catch,” Kipp said, approaching still closer.
Haley wanted to shout at him to stay back, but so far neither of the bears seemed to mind his presence. They were too intent on their breakfast, ignoring both the humans and each other. She finally recovered her wits enough to begin snapping pictures. Augusta sat on the riverbank and began jotting notes for the coffee-table book she had come along to write.
The smaller bear finished its meal. It settled against a tree and began to scratch its back against the rough bark. Haley watched in fascination. The other bear finally caught a fish and lumbered to shore with it. It sat down with its back to them and began to bat the fish around as if it were a toy.
“Bears are the brothers of my soul,” Kipp was saying into the camera. “We have no need to fear them. They are benign creatures who wish to live in harmony and peace with us.”
She would have laughed at that before today, but watching these bears, she thought he might be right. These two animals showed no signs of aggression. When the bears ambled to a berry patch and began to strip the brambles of fruit, Kipp picked some berries for himself.
“That’s a wrap for tonight. Let’s get camp set up,” Kipp finally said. He strode back to their things, then led the group to a clearing.
“How many adventures have you gone on with Kipp?” Haley asked Denny.
“This will be the fourth. He’s quite a ham. The more outrageous the stunt, the more the crowd loves it.”
“Has he ever gotten hurt? Every time I watch the show, I hold my breath. Remember that show where he walked up to the buffalo in Yellowstone and jumped on its back? The thing bucked him off and turned to gore him. I thought he’d end up in the hospital at least.”
“That one was a close call,” Denny admitted. “He had a few stitches. The park rangers weren’t happy, and I had to do some talking to get us back into the park to do another show.”
“Why does he live on the edge like that?”
“He really believes in letting people know how important it is to connect with animals, for us to realize our spirits are connected and that we aren’t so very different.”
“Do you really believe that?” Augusta asked.
Haley slanted a don’t-get-started glance toward Augusta. She’d heard that too-quiet tone before.
Denny gave a decisive nod. “My people believe everything has a spirit: the wind, the trees, the animals. We believe that animals, like humans, have souls that can think, feel, and interact. Animal spirits are no different from human spirits. We are all one, and sickness and bad fortune come when we disrespect the spirits of the forest or the animals.”
Augusta gave her head a gentle shake. “Denny, there is only one God. Man is a custodian of the earth and its creatures. Sometimes we don’t do a very good job, but we are the only one created in God’s image. It distresses me when I hear us lumped in with every other creature on earth. God loves all his creation, but we’re God’s beloved children. We’re special.”
Denny dropped his gaze. “We’d better get moving.” Haley sighed. Leave it to her grandmother to offend and alienate the team before they even got started. She had three months of this to look forward to.
They gathered up the luggage. Haley let Oscar out of his carrier to walk, then got her walking stick out of her pack and unfolded it. Denny eyed it but didn’t say anything as they started off. She panted as she stumbled over rough ground with her burden. The stick saved her from a fall more than once.
From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the heavy forest and averted her gaze, looking instead toward the lake. She wouldn’t look at the forbidding tree line, not yet. They passed Augusta, who paused to take in the scenery, and when she caught up with them moments later, Haley heard her sniffling.
Haley stopped and turned. “Are you okay?”
Mist and memories illuminated Augusta’s blue eyes. “I’m fine, darling. It’s just hard to be here and know your father won’t come striding through the trees with that booming laugh of his.”
Haley remembered that laugh. She nodded and moved to catch up with the rest of the group. She staggered several times on the uneven ground, and her thigh began to ache in spite of the walking stick. This was going to be harder than she anticipated.
The ground was beginning to green up. Oscar was distracted by every blade of grass. When Kipp stopped, Haley tossed her burdens on the ground, then dug out her book on Alaska’s vegetation. “That’s bog star,” she said, pointing to a plant growing in a small clump with small, nearly heart-shaped yellowish-green leaves at the base. “And I think that’s dwarf dogwood.”
Kipp flipped his tent out onto the ground and began to put it together. “We might get some company tonight. This is a fairly well-traveled fishing trail for Natives on their way to Cook Inlet. You’ll get a good taste of some of the characters who inhabit the land around here.”
Haley wanted to tell him this area wasn’t new to her, but it was none of his business. She itched to begin her photographic journey into the past. She watched him a minute, then pulled out her own tent. She had no idea how to put one of these things together. The instructions would surely be clear enough that she could figure it out.
A man stepped into the clearing. “Howdy, you folks must be new.”
The man’s suspenders curved up over a big belly covered in a wool shirt. The mud that caked his boots was a good inch thick. Twigs and spruce needles stuck out of his gray beard, but the hazel eyes above his bulbous nose twinkled with goodwill. A string of traps dangled from his right shoulder. He looked familiar.
Denny stood. “Hey, Mort. I wondered if we might run into you out here.” He turned to the rest. “This is Mort Winters, the best trapper this side of the Kuskokwim Mountains.” He stepped out and shook the trapper’s hand. “We’re here to shoot bear, but only with film. Any luck finding that lost gold mine yet?” He grinned.
Mort Winters. Haley’s tight grip on her emotions began to slip. She hadn’t thought of Mort in twenty years. He was older now, with new lines around his eyes. The Alaskan winters had deposited age spots on his forehead and cheeks.
“No gold mine yet, but I’m still looking.”
“What gold mine?” Kipp demanded.
Denny jumped in with an explanation. “Legend has it that a Russian miner from Kenai found a rich lode. He had all the gold bagged up and ready to take to town, but hit his head and lost his memory. He never found the mine again.”
“If he lost his memory, how did he know there was a gold mine?” Kipp asked, chuckling.
“Ah, that’s part of the big mystery.” Denny’s smile widened.
Mort’s hazel eyes glanced around the group, then locked on Augusta. “Augusta Walsh,” he said softly.
“Hello, Mort,” Augusta said. The tartness in her voice could have spiced a cherry pie. “Still chasing an empty dream, I see.”
“You’re still as beautiful as ever.” His eyes drank her in, then shifted sideways to Haley. His gaze flickered. “Haley? My little Lucy is all grown up.”
Haley had forgotten about that. He used to read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to her when she was little. She was Lucy, and Chloe was Susan. She barely remembered the story anymore. “It’s been twenty years, Mort. I’m surprised you recognized me.”
“You look just like your mother.”
“Thank you.” Haley knew he meant it as a compliment, but it meant nothing to her. His gaze flickered back to Augusta, and Haley could see the hunger in his eyes. He’d never been willing to
give up his search for gold for Augusta. Augusta wouldn’t take second place to ambition when she held love for God and family to be of highest importance. She’d spoken of Mort the night Haley graduated from college, then never again. The Walsh women were nothing if not single-minded. At least they had that in common.
Mort cleared his throat. “Looks like you need some help with your tent.” He dropped his own gear and got to work. He had their tent up in five minutes. Haley watched how he did it and thought she might manage next time. “Thanks, Mort.” She crawled inside and rolled out her sleeping bag, then did the same with Augusta’s before stepping back outside. She looked at the sky. Though it was nearly ten at night, the sun was just now starting to set.
Mort shifted from one foot to the other. He glanced at Augusta, but she didn’t look at him. “I’d better be moseying back to my cabin. I’ll be seeing you around.” He nodded at them, then picked up his traps and vanished into the forest.
“Let’s turn in.We can explore tomorrow,” Kipp said. He disappeared through the small opening in his tent.
Haley glanced back at her grandmother. Augusta smiled and lifted the flap of the tent. “Let’s get some sleep, darling. You look done in.”
Augusta still looked fresh. Haley ducked into the tent. The flimsy walls offered no real protection, but it hid the looming forest and calmed her. She examined the tent fabric. “My book says not to touch the sides of the tent. If it rains, the oils on your hands will make the water leak through.”
“I know, Haley. I’m not a complete idiot out here.” Her grandmother patted her on the shoulder.
Haley stared at the sleeping bag—a top-of-the-line Western Mountaineering—with disfavor. She had thought they would be able to go to their cabin the first night. And there was no bathroom out here. Would she dare go out in the middle of the night if she needed to use the toilet? And could she even sleep on hard ground? She was used to a pillow-top mattress.
Her grandmother opened her sleeping bag, sat down and pulled off her boots, then scooted inside. “Sleep well, darling.”
“Aren’t you even going to talk about Mort?”
“What’s to talk about? What might have been was a lifetime ago. He’s not a Christian, and our lifestyles are too dissimilar. It would never have worked. I see that even more clearly now. God saved me from a terrible mistake twenty years ago.” Her serene voice held no disappointment.
Haley studied Augusta’s face. “You’re serious.”
“Completely. I have the Lord, you, my work. What more could I want? I’ve had a full and happy life, Haley. Now get some sleep and quit worrying.”
Easier said than done. Haley looked around. At least the tent had a floor. She unzipped her satchel and pulled out a copy of Primitive Wilderness Living and Survival Skills. She opened the cover and looked at the table of contents. Chapter 1 was on brain-tan buckskin. Ick. She glanced through the chapters. They covered everything from making fires to building structures. Not that she planned to need such skills, but she intended to be prepared.
Augusta propped herself on one elbow. “I figured you would bring a how-to of some kind with you. What do you need to know? Maybe I already know it.”
“Nothing yet. I just want to be prepared.” Haley closed the book with a snap that made Oscar look at her. She took off her boots, then released her prosthesis and rubbed the stump of leg that ended just below the knee. The skin looked good, much to her surprise. She’d expected it to be red and chapped. It felt good to be free again.
She slipped into her sleeping bag. Oscar burrowed next to her, his warm little body a comfort even though he was wiggling. “Night, Augusta.”
“You’re a brave girl, Haley,” her grandmother said softly. “Where do you want to start your tribute to Chloe?”
“Kipp says we’ll be shooting the bears during early morning, late afternoon, and evening hours. That will leave me midday free to go to the cabin and to town to see the old haunts. I thought I’d start at the cabin.” She wet her lips.
“I’ll go with you the first time. It will be hard.” Augusta studied her granddaughter’s face.
“Hard, nothing. I have this as a reminder every day of my life that I killed my sister.” She slapped the prosthesis lying beside her.
Augusta’s face softened. “It was an accident, Haley. I hate it when you say that.”
Haley shrugged. “My parents blamed me until the day they died, Augusta. They sent me away and never forgave me for something I did when I was eight years old. Now that was hard, but it made me stronger. I learned that I don’t need approval from anyone. I can stand on my own.”
“But you never really engage life, Haley,” her grandmother said softly. “You observe it from there behind the lens of your camera. That’s not strength. It’s a twilight kind of existence that turns away from the light of truth.”
Haley turned her back to her grandmother. “I’m tired, Augusta. Good night.”
Augusta didn’t answer for a long moment, then she finally sighed. “Good night, darling.”
Haley shifted numerous times on the hard ground. Strange sounds echoed through her tent. She was used to horns blaring and tires rolling on concrete. At least those noises were all harmless.
Two
Haley blinked, not sure what had awakened her. The quality of twilight had changed to a strange golden haze from the full moon. She tossed in her sleeping bag, then sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her bladder was uncomfortably full, and she knew she was going to have to go out. Her muscles clenched at the thought. Could she awaken Augusta and ask her to go along? She rejected the thought as soon as it came. Her grandmother needed her rest. Haley had to do this on her own.
She glanced at the soft illumination of her watch. Three in the morning. She reached into her backpack and grabbed the biodegradable toilet paper she’d brought. Feeling along the bottom of the pack, she found the small shovel. Her hand touched her camera, and she grabbed it too. She never felt whole without the camera around her neck.
She pulled on her prosthesis, then her boots, and then crawled to the tent opening and thrust back the flap. Her warm breath fogged the frigid air as she peered out. The odd light from the full moon cast everything in a strange yellow hue. An owl hooted overhead, a mournful sound that brought an involuntary shudder. She stepped outside and nearly slipped on the ice that had formed over the puddles in the path. Skirting the other tents, she shuffled toward the woods.
Her book had forewarned her of everything except how disorienting it was to be out here in the middle of the night with strange sounds coming at her from all directions. The darkness made every bush loom in strange shapes. She managed not to scream when a porcupine lumbered from under a bush to investigate the sound of ice crackling under the tread of her boots. Every sound seemed amplified. She told herself she was a big girl now, not an eight-year-old.
When she finished, she gathered up her things and turned to go back. The moonlight glittered on the lake in a halo. She tilted her head and observed the effect. This was why she was here. She brought her camera to her face and began snapping shots. The whir of the camera released the tension in her shoulders. She stepped into the clearing and kept snapping pictures. She stopped and listened. She heard . . . people talking. At this hour? She instinctively turned and snapped a few more pictures. In the distance near the woods she saw two figures, but they were too far off to make out any features. The two men—at least she thought they were men—seemed to be arguing. Kipp and Denny? She stepped back and lost her footing in the loose shale. Their acrimonious voices fell silent when they turned at the clatter of rock and saw her. She hurried back to her tent. It was none of her business if those two chose to argue.
Haley and Augusta packed up their things, and the group traipsed along the trail to where they’d been told the cabin would be available. It was halfway between last night’s campsite and their real destination by the river. The path—if you could call the faint muddy impression a path—meandered th
rough Sitka spruce rainforest and through meadows where the wildflowers were beginning to poke up through the last of the snow cover. Haley remembered how the long spring days once made her think she could almost watch the foliage grow. She consulted her book often as a pastime and identified fireweed, larkspur, and lowbush cranberry. It took nearly two hours to cover two miles before finally arriving at the clearing where their cabin sat. She caught teasing glimpses of the blue water through a break of white spruce, and she could hear the gentle sound of the surf on Cook Inlet.
Haley stopped in the clearing to catch her breath and look around. She eyed the stark cabin. The four-room structure seemed to be in good repair. The weathered logs looked freshly chinked. Kipp stepped to the door of the cabin and flung it open. “Here we are. The rest of the crew has been filming the area as the snow melted and the ice floes broke up. We’ve gotten some good coverage of snowmelt and some opening den scenes. I’ve given them a week off, and they’re going to Anchorage for a little R&R. They’ll meet back up with us in Stalwart next week.”
Haley and the rest of the team crowded in behind him to take a look at their base. The common room was small—barely fifteen feet square—and it held several small camp chairs, an assortment of kerosene heaters and lanterns, a couple of coolers, and boxes of supplies. In the tiny kitchen, a small camping stove stood on a rough wooden table, and a stack of unwashed metal plates teetered on the counter. Kipp obviously hadn’t cleaned up after himself. Haley exchanged a knowing glance with Denny.
Haley and Augusta explored the rest of the cabin. The first bedroom was hardly larger than a closet and contained only two cots and a wooden table, which held a cracked washbowl and pitcher. It was a wonder someone hadn’t broken in and stolen the meager furnishings.
“Nice,” Augusta murmured, a wry twist to her lips. She stepped into the room and dropped her satchel on the dirt floor. “We’ll take this one.”
Alaska Twilight Page 2