Alaska Adventure

by Cynthia Baxter

When Cassie finally spoke, her voice was thin and uncertain. “We can’t be positive this piece of fabric is from Jim Whitehorse’s jacket. Laurel said it herself. A lot of hunters wear that type. Campers, too, and fishermen and hikers.... There must be thousands of people in the state of Alaska who own jackets like that.”

  “Yes, but only one of them lives around here,” Trip insisted. “If you ask me, it doesn’t take much to put two and two together.”

  “Careful, Trip,” Russ warned. “Cassie’s right. Let’s not start jumping to conclusions. We’ll tell Dr. Wells about what we found, and he’ll report it to Ben Seeger. Aside from that,” he added, shrugging his shoulders, “there’s nothing more we can do.”

  Later that evening, the five of them were quiet as they sat in the living room. The somber air hovering over them was made even more oppressive by the heavy rain that had begun to fall. It hammered at the roof relentlessly, bringing with it dark, forbidding skies.

  “Who wants to deal?” Cassie asked, the cheerfulness in her voice strangely out of place in this atmosphere. She sat at the table, shuffling a deck of cards.

  “Not cards,” Marian groaned.

  “Do you have a better idea?” Russ glanced up from the table, where he was sitting opposite Cassie, leafing through Peterson’s field guide to the birds of North America.

  Trip, standing in front of the open refrigerator, called over his shoulder, “How about the Truth game?”

  Before Mariah had a chance to react, Laurel broke in. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I can’t concentrate on anything until I find out what Ben Seeger has to say.”

  “Dr. Wells should be back any minute,” Russ pointed out.

  Laurel glanced at her watch impatiently. “He’s been at the Torvolds’ forever. How long does it take to telephone Anchorage?”

  As if on cue, just then Dr. Wells strode into the cabin. The expression on his face told them instantly he didn’t have anything encouraging to report.

  “I reached Ben at home,” he told them. “And he was pretty upset. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very reassuring. He said the same thing as last time, that the Department of Fish and Game simply doesn’t have the resources to investigate every incident of bear poaching as fully as it might.”

  “Great,” said Trip. “So he’ll write up a report that gets stuffed in a drawer with a hundred other pieces of paper—and does nothing more than gather dust.”

  When Dr. Wells left, Cassie turned her attention back to her cards. “Okay, who’s in? Your choice of Rummy Five Hundred, Go Fish, Crazy Eights—”

  “We have to do something.” Laurel was pacing up and down the room restlessly, like a tiger confined in a cage.

  “That’s why I suggested cards,” said Cassie. “Otherwise we might all die of boredom.”

  “I’m not talking about cards. I’m talking about the bears.”

  “Give it up, Laurel.” Mariah, nestled in one corner of the couch, pulled her long black hair over one shoulder. Distractedly she began stroking it.

  “Mariah’s right,” Cassie agreed. “If the entire Alaska Department of Fish and Game can’t catch the poachers, why on earth would you think—?”

  “Just because Ben Seeger’s not particularly optimistic doesn’t mean there isn’t some way of getting to the bottom of this. Maybe if we all put our heads together....” Pleadingly Laurel looked around at the other four.

  “Count me out.” Trip sank onto the couch, the last can of Coke in his hand. “I came up here to further science, not to play Sherlock Holmes.”

  “Mariah?” asked Laurel. “What about you?”

  Mariah raised one eyebrow. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Cassie?”

  Cassie didn’t even look up from the cards she was slapping on the table, dealing them out into two piles. “Sorry, Laurel. Just seeing those poor dead bears was bad enough. I have no desire to go roaming around in the woods, looking for clues—or whatever it is you have in mind.”

  “But Cassie! We—”

  “I’ll help,” Russ offered with a little shrug.

  “Somehow I had a feeling you might volunteer,” Mariah said dryly, a knowing look on her face.

  Laurel simply ignored her. “That’s great, Russ. Thanks. Now all we have to do is come up with a plan....”

  Before any of them had a chance to respond, a familiar voice rang out through the rhythmic pounding of the rain.

  “Anybody home? Is it okay if I come in?”

  Danny Torvold appeared in the doorway, his face flushed with excitement. His hair was drenched, the dark red strands hanging down straight, forming fringe around his freckled face.

  “Hi, Russ!” he exclaimed. “Hi, everybody.”

  “Hey, Danny,” Russ called back. “What are you doing out on a terrible night like this?”

  “I didn’t want you to think I was backing out on our deal.”

  Russ shook his head, clearly confused.

  “I promised I’d take you out on the lake tonight, remember? I figured you’d probably realize it was raining too hard, but I wanted to make sure you didn’t think I forgot.”

  “To tell you the truth, I’d got so wrapped up in other things that I’m the one who forgot.”

  “Oh, yeah. The bears.” Danny’s expression grew serious. “My mom and dad were really upset when they heard. Me, too.”

  “We’re ail upset,” Laurel said gently. “In fact, we were just talking about whether or not it made sense for us to do a little investigating of our own.”

  “You mean try to find out who’s been killing the bears by yourselves?” Danny’s eyes had grown wide.

  “Exactly,” said Laurel.

  “Gee,” Danny said eagerly. “I’d sure love to help!”

  “Great,” Trip muttered. “Not only do we have a crackerjack team of two gung ho college students on the case, but now we have a nine-year-old boy, too.”

  Laurel cast him the dirtiest look she could manage. But before she had a chance to put her two cents hi, Russ spoke.

  “In the first place,” he said slowly, “as Danny himself told us, he knows the area around the lake better than anybody. I felt the same way about the preserve in New Hampshire where I grew up. In the second place, we have two things the Department of Fish and Game lacks.”

  “Oh, really?” Trip asked cynically. “And what, may I ask, are those?”

  ‘Time ... and commitment.”

  Trip snorted. “Time? I don’t know about you, but if there’s one thing I don’t have, it’s time. As for commitment, my first commitment is to this project. I’m here to help Dr. Wells, not to play hero.”

  “Who knows?” Russ said with a shrug. “Maybe we’ll be able to do both.”

  * * * *

  Mariah closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the soft couch, trying to ignore the conversation going on around her. At that moment, she would have given anything for a long, hot bubble bath....

  “Everything okay?” Cassie asked. Despite her sympathetic words, there was little kindness in her voice.

  “Everything’s fine,” Mariah insisted. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

  “Sure you’re tired,” Trip joked, “after today’s little—”

  “That’s enough, Trip.”

  Surprised, Mariah glanced over at Laurel. She was the last person in the world she’d ever have expected to come rushing to her defense. Her outrage over being put in a position where somebody else pitied her, combined with her dismay over the events of the day, suddenly overwhelmed her.

  “I’m going to bed,” she said stiffly, standing up and stalking into the bedroom.

  It wasn’t until she was alone, curled up on her cot with the covers pulled over her head, that Mariah allowed the tears to fall. She sobbed quietly, burying her face in a wad of tissues. The last thing she wanted was for any of the others to hear.

  Mariah saw crying as an act of weakness, and she felt completely foolish. Yet she couldn’t help it. And the disdain
of the others played only a small part in her feelings of desperation.

  The gold bracelet that had fallen into the lake had been her mother’s, one of the few things she’d owned that Mariah still had. Her father, nearly destroyed by her unexpected death at the hands of a drunk driver, had been so distraught that he’d given practically everything else away. The bracelet, his present to her on their twenty-year wedding anniversary, only three days before the car accident, was something he’d been unable to part with.

  Dr. Burke had given it to Mariah the day before she got on a plane in Los Angeles to fly east to begin college.

  “Here, Mariah,” he’d said, his voice gruff. He stood awkwardly in the doorway of her bedroom, unable to look her in the eye as he handed her a small bundle wrapped in white tissue paper. “Your mother would have wanted you to have this. And since you’re going off to start a brand-new life for yourself tomorrow, this seems like the perfect time.”

  She’d cherished that bracelet. She hadn’t worn it all year, afraid something might happen to it. When it was time to pack for Alaska, she’d hesitated only a moment before sticking it in her bag. It occurred to her that bringing it along might ward off some of her apprehensions about the summer ahead.

  The only reason she’d dared put it on that morning was that she’d been feeling so miserable. So completely alone. Maybe, she figured, having something of her mother’s with her would help....

  And now it was gone. Mariah closed her eyes. She was tired from the long day; even more, she felt drained.

  She could feel sleep coming on, and she welcomed it. As she began to drift off, she counted how many days of the research trip still remained. There were three weeks left. At the moment, that sounded like a very long time ... so long, in fact, she wondered how she was ever going to make it.

  * * * *

  “Dr. Wells was very understanding about us wanting to take some time for ourselves this morning,” Laurel commented.

  Thoughtfully she dipped her paddle into the lake water. It was an action she’d carried out hundreds, maybe thousands of times before. Yet she couldn’t help noticing how different being out on the water felt today, compared to all the other days.

  This morning, she was on a mission. Laurel, Russ, and Danny had started out first thing, promising Dr. Wells they’d be back in a few hours. All three of them were anxious to start scouting around the area, trying to uncover some clue, some piece of evidence, that would help them figure out the identity of the bear poachers. An air of apprehension hung over them, rooted in the knowledge that they were not out on the lake in the name of science, but in an attempt to investigate a horrible crime.

  “I think our best bet,” said Russ, “is to start out where we found the second bear. Let’s head over to the island.’*

  Danny brightened. “I’ve been playing on that island ever since I was three years old!”

  “Good,” said Laurel. “Then you should be able to spot anything that’s unusual.”

  The three of them were subdued as they made their way across the island, stepping carefully over fallen logs and densely overgrown patches as they headed toward the spot they’d discovered the day before. Danny had no problem keeping up with them; in fact, he seemed quite at home. Still, while he kept his eyes open, desperately wanting to help Russ and Laurel by identifying something about the island that looked different, he found nothing.

  “This is where we found the bear,” Laurel finally said, her voice hushed. She’d paused a few feet before the spot, grabbing hold of a tree branch to steady herself.

  “Let me see,” Danny insisted.

  She cast Russ an anxious look. “Are you sure you want to, Danny?”

  “Maybe I’ll see something you missed.”

  In silence the three of them pushed through the heavy spruce branches. Even though Laurel had tried to prepare herself for the gruesome sight, she drew her breath in sharply. Glancing over at Danny, she saw that all the color had drained from his face.

  “I sure hope you find out who’s responsible for this,” the boy said simply.

  She placed her hand on his shoulder but said nothing.

  “Here’s that piece of fabric.” Russ had gone over to the bush a few yards away from the bear. “It’s wet from last night’s rain.”

  Laurel frowned. “Maybe we’d better take it with us. The longer it’s out here, the more tattered it’ll become ... and the less useful it’ll be.”

  “Let me see that.” Danny reached for the scrap. “I recognize this. It’s from a jacket that belongs to Mr. Whitehorse.”

  “Danny,” Laurel said gently, “just because Mr. Whitehorse has a jacket that looks kind of like this doesn’t mean this came from it.”

  “It sure looks like the same kind of material.” Danny glanced up at her. “Do you think he did it?”

  “At this point, I don’t know what to think. We’re still at a stage when we simply need to find out as much as we can.”

  Danny hesitated, fingering the damp fabric. “I have an idea. I could take you to where he lives. Maybe ... maybe you’d find some clues there.”

  Automatically Laurel glanced at Russ. “What do you think?”

  He was thoughtful for a few seconds. “I think we’d better.”

  “Okay.” Laurel’s stomach had knotted up. All of a sudden, she’d been hit by the grim reality of what she and Russ were trying to do.

  * * * *

  Jim Whitehorse’s cabin was impossible to reach except by canoe. After paddling to the farthest end of the lake, Laurel and Russ trudged after Danny for close to twenty minutes before he finally gestured with his chin.

  ‘This is it,” he told them, stopping at the edge of a clearing. “It looks pretty quiet. I have a feeling he’s out in the woods somewhere.”

  The building was a simple structure. It was small, probably nothing more than one room. By comparison, the log cabin in which Laurel and the others had been living was luxurious.

  She’d been curious about the quiet loner ever since she’d gotten to Alaska. But now that she was a few feet away from the place in which he lived, she felt uneasy.

  “I-I don’t think we should be here,” she told Russ. “I feel like we’re spying.”

  “We’re trying to find out everything we can, that’s all,” Russ reminded her. “We’re not doing anything we shouldn’t be doing.” He studied the cabin. “I’m going to get a closer look.”

  “Russ, are you sure—?”

  “Stay here.” He’d already taken off, leaving Laurel behind with Danny.

  “Come on, Danny,” she suggested. “Let’s walk around out here. Maybe you’ll notice something out of the ordinary.”

  Russ reappeared a minute or two later, shaking his head as he approached. “I looked through one of the windows, but I couldn’t see very much. It’s kind of dark in there. And from what I could see, it’s just the stuff you’d expect to find: a few pieces of furniture, some books, a little kitchen area.”

  “We haven’t had any luck, either,” said Laurel. “Danny and I have been looking around here in the woods.”

  “There is one thing I did find....” said Russ.

  “What?” Laurel and Danny asked in unison.

  “The most fascinating spider I’ve ever seen in my life. Danny, I was wondering if you might be able to help me identify it.”

  “Sure thing!” Gleefully Danny skipped away after Russ.

  Laurel smiled. She decided to leave the two of them alone. She wandered off, keeping her eyes open for something—anything—that might prove helpful.

  She walked behind the clearing in which the cabin was centered. Back there the woods were thick and hard to cross. She found herself holding onto branches to keep her balance. Sharp twigs scratched her arms and legs. When one of them scraped her face, she let out a little cry.

  She was thinking about turning back and finding Russ and Danny when she suddenly got the feeling that someone was watching her. There was nothing tangible to giv
e her that idea—not a noise, not anything she’d seen—just the eerie sensation that she wasn’t alone.

  Instinctively she whirled around. “Russ? Danny?” she called, peering through the woods, struggling to see. “Is anybody out here?”

  But there was no response except the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves.

  A chill ran down Laurel’s spine. You’re imagining things, she told herself. It’s just the wind. Or maybe some animal, stealing through the underbrush....

  Instead of going back, she forced herself to walk on. She walked more slowly, taking care not to make any noise. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain it was echoing through the forest.

  And then, after passing through a particularly dense growth of trees, she found herself in the midst of a clearing. The pounding of her heart was louder than ever. She blinked hard, not certain she was really seeing what she thought she was seeing. Yet there was no mistaking it.

  There, in the midst of the clearing, parked a few hundred yards behind Jim Whitehorse’s cabin, was a plane.

  * * * *

  “It was the exact same kind of plane John Torvold told us the poachers generally use,” Laurel said breathlessly. “A supercub, one of the PA-18s with those big tundra tires.”

  “We have to be careful,” Russ warned. “A lot of people in Alaska own planes.” Thoughtfully, he added, “They’re very common ... just like red plaid jackets.”

  He pushed aside the mosquito netting and gestured for her to go into the cabin ahead of him. Just as she’d hoped, the others were still out. After the three of them paddled back to the cabin, Danny had gone back to his own house, leaving Russ and Laurel alone to talk.

  “It’s so hard not to jump to conclusions.” She sank onto the couch. “We don’t have a lot of evidence ... but so far everything we do have seems to point to the same conclusion: Jim Whitehorse is responsible for the bear poaching.”

  “Maybe it’d be helpful if we talk to someone at Fish and Game about it,” Russ suggested, sitting down at the table. “They might be able to give us some insights.”

  “Good idea. Let’s talk to Ben Seeger the first chance we get. In the meantime, we should probably keep a careful record of all the clues we come across. I have an extra spiral notebook I brought along. Let’s keep a log, writing down what we do and when we do it.”