Alaska Adventure

by Cynthia Baxter

  She headed into her bedroom to get the notebook. She was lost in thought, trying to make sense of all that was unfolding. It was so hard to imagine the possibility that someone who lived right here at Wolf Lake— someone who the Torvolds knew, who the Torvolds trusted—could be involved in something so despicable....

  Suddenly she stopped. Lying on the floor in front of the bunk beds was a white envelope. Written on the front in a large, almost childish scrawl, were the words, “To the blond-haired girl.”

  “What on earth ... ?” Laurel’s voice trailed off as she bent down to pick up the envelope. She held it for a few seconds, examining the peculiar handwriting. As she did, a strange, sick feeling rose up inside her. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she opened the envelope.

  Inside there was a single slip of white paper. It was unusually thick, unlike any she’d ever seen before. One edge was jagged, the sharp irregular triangles a sign that it had been ripped out of some kind of book.

  On it, in the same unusual handwriting that had been on the envelope, were written four simple words: “Keep out of it!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Laurel’s heart was pounding as she walked into the living room and handed the note to Russ.

  “Read this,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

  He glanced at the note, the muscles of his face tensing. When he looked up at Laurel, he was flushed. “Who do you think sent it?”

  “There’s only one person who could have.” She swallowed hard. “Jim Whitehorse.”

  Shaking her head slowly, Laurel sank into the chair opposite Russ. “He must have seen us prowling around his cabin this morning. I didn’t say anything about this before, but when you and Danny were looking at that spider and I was walking around by myself, I got the feeling somebody was watching me. I thought it might have just been my imagination, but....”

  “It all adds up,” Russ said, nodding. “Somebody wants to keep us from discovering who’s responsible for the bear poaching—and that somebody appears to be Jim Whitehorse.”

  “We’ll have to tell Dr. Wells about this note,” said Laurel, studying it. In here, the light was much better. She saw it had been written with a very fine pen, one that made a very narrow line with breaks here and there. “Maybe all three of us should talk to Ben Seeger about the fact that it looks like Jim Whitehorse is our man.”

  Russ frowned. “There’s one problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We don’t have any proof. So far, all we’ve got are a few pieces of circumstantial evidence. A swatch of fabric that matches Jim Whitehorse’s jacket—and a few hundred other people’s jackets, as well. The fact that he owns the kind of plane a lot of bear poachers use. And now a note—a note we have no way of tracing to him.”

  Laurel sighed. “You’re right. We’re still making assumptions, aren’t we? Jumping to conclusions we have no right to make—”

  “Conclusions about what?” Trip had just come striding into the cabin, wearing a big grin. “What’d I miss?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Laurel replied quickly. “We were just ... gossiping.”

  “How did your little expedition go this morning?” asked Marian, coming in right behind Trip. “Catch any bad guys?”

  “Actually, it was rather uneventful,” Russ returned with forced heartiness. “You were probably right to keep out of it. Playing private investigator is turning out to be nothing but an exercise in frustration.”

  “Hate to say I told you so, but....” Marian had already lost interest. She’d gone over to the refrigerator and was poking around inside. “Anybody have any ideas about lunch? I’m starved.”

  Trip bounded over to the kitchen. “That leftover sandwich from last night is mine. Keep your hands off it.”

  Laurel took advantage of her moment alone with Russ to lean over and ask in a quiet voice, “What now?”

  “We need to find out more,” Russ replied. “Let’s give it some time.”

  * * * *

  “What’s up for today?” Cassie asked over breakfast the next morning. “Fish, bugs, or birds?”

  “I’ve decided to make today a holiday.” Dr. Wells set his coffee mug down on the table. “You deserve a break. Why don’t the five of you take the Jeep and go somewhere? There are some spectacular glaciers just north of here, with valleys that are great for hiking. Or you could drive to the coast and check out some of the tiny villages there. The churches are particularly interesting. They were put up by the Russians who were the first to settle this area—”

  “How about renting a room at the local Holiday Inn?” Marian suggested. “Imagine, a steaming shower in a luxurious bathroom. A heated swimming pool. Room service. Now that’s my idea of a break.”

  Dr. Wells laughed. “No such thing, I’m afraid. That’s not exactly Alaska’s style.”

  “I’m with Marian,” said Cassie. “I crave civilization. I’d like nothing better than the chance to spend the day in the company of other human beings. Poking around shops, walking on a real sidewalk ... maybe even eating in a restaurant.” With a sigh, she added, “I’d give anything for real, live French fries!”

  “The closest thing to what you’re describing is the town of Homer, nicknamed ‘the end of the road,’ “ said Dr. Wells. “Not exactly a booming metropolitan area, but I suspect you can find French fries there.”

  “In that case, I make a motion we head into Homer.”

  Mariah raised her hand into the air. “I second the motion.”

  The two boys responded with a grimace.

  “Uh, oh,” said Cassie. “Two to two.”

  “Laurel, it looks like you’re the tiebreaker,” said Dr. Wells, chuckling. “What’s it going to be?”

  She looked around at the others, blinking. “How can you compare eating French fries with the chance to see an actual glacier ...?”

  Cassie and Mariah groaned.

  Still, everyone’s spirits were high as the five of them set off for Byron Glacier in the Jeep. Trip insisted on driving. Laurel sat next to him in front. Russ, Mariah, and Cassie were crammed into the backseat. Stashed in back was all the gear they’d need for their all-day hike: maps, a camera, food, water ... and a big bottle of sun block.

  “How’s the shoe situation back there?” Trip asked, looking at Mariah through the rearview mirror.

  “Fine, thank you,” she replied evenly. “Fortunately, L. L. Bean even ships to Alaska.” She raised her foot upward, showing off her new tan suede hiking boot.

  “Hey, look out!” Cassie cried. But she was laughing as she pushed Marian’s foot away, shoving Russ even further into the corner. “This isn’t a fashion show!”

  “I want to prove to Trip that Beverly Hills girls aren’t completely lacking in common sense,” Mariah teased.

  “Or credit cards,” Trip shot back.

  This is fun, Laurel reflected, glancing around at the others, all of them laughing together like the best of friends. For the first time since she’d come to Alaska, she actually felt as if she were part of a team.

  The drive up the coast to Byron Glacier was nothing short of spectacular. On one side of a narrow two-lane highway the turquoise Kenai River rushed south toward Cook Inlet. Salmon fishermen stood shoulder to shoulder, their fishing poles clutched in their hands. On the other side of the road, glaciers in high mountain valleys hung above rounded slopes.

  They headed along the shore of Turnagain Arm, a tremendous inlet cut into the mountains by glaciers millions of years ago. In the distance, far beyond the glassy water, were snowy mountains, their white tops blending into the thick white clouds that hovered above making it impossible to see where the mountains ended and the sky began.

  Every mile or so, Trip pulled the Jeep over to the side of the road so everyone could scramble out and get a better look. Along the beach, Laurel and Cassie collected interesting rocks. Russ and Trip had a race up a pile of ominous-looking boulders that had tumbled down from the mountains during an avalanche aeons earlie
r. By the time they actually reached Byron Glacier, they’d already put in a solid half day of sightseeing. Yet, instead of being tired, they were exhilarated over the prospect of a long, challenging hike.

  They parked in a small lot at the edge of the park that surrounded Byron Glacier. There were fewer than a dozen other cars parked there, mostly vans and campers. After packing up and pulling on their backpacks, the five of them started up the dirt path that cut through the dense woods and into a valley.

  A few hundred yards beyond was a view so breathtaking that Laurel let out a gasp. Triangles of white snow zigzagged across black mountains, rising up dramatically on either side. The valley in between was a mixture of green and fields of snow. Down the middle was strewn a path of dark, angular boulders, most of them huge. Meandering through was a stream, its white water tumultuous.

  “Look at the snow!” Laurel exclaimed.

  “Look at those boulders!” Cassie cried. “How are we ever going to get across this valley?”

  “Easy,” Trip returned. “It’s called rock hopping.” To demonstrate, he scrambled onto one of the rocks, almost as big as he was, then leapt onto the one next to it. “Piece o’ cake.”

  Cassie wasn’t convinced. “It looks dangerous.”

  “I’ll walk right behind you,” Laurel offered.

  “That’s okay,” Cassie said quickly. “I’ll manage.”

  Laurel felt as if she’d been slapped. Here she’d been thinking things were going so well, that the members of the group were finally getting along ... and that the tension she’d felt between Cassie and her could well have been nothing more than her own tendency to be overly sensitive. Yet the prickliness in Cassie’s tone was unmistakable.

  Rock hopping turned out to be more strenuous than Laurel had anticipated. Conversation came almost to a halt as the group made its way across the valley: Laurel and Trip in the lead, Russ following, Mariah and Cassie lagging behind. The three in front stopped every now and then to give the other two a chance to catch up.

  “Are you two managing okay?” Russ asked congenially.

  “I’m glad I had my Wheaties today,” Mariah puffed. “Otherwise I’d tell you to leave me on one of the rocks to contemplate the melting snow while the rest of you went ahead.”

  But even she claimed it was worth it when the group finally made it to Byron Glacier. Laurel paused on one of the rocks, taking a moment to catch her breath and take in the incredible view. The glacier was a luminescent shade of blue-white. What struck her even more than the beauty of the color, however, was its monumental size. It cut through the mountains, easily as formidable a presence as the highest peak. Gazing at it, she had a sense of how it had plowed across the forbidding terrain through the ages, taking on even the tremendous mountains that in the end proved no match for its determination.

  “Wow,” Trip said breathlessly. “Now that’s what I call an ice cube.”

  “Let’s hike all the way up to it,” suggested Laurel.

  Russ frowned. “Going up to it is fine. But I think we’d better turn around once we get up there. It is solid ice, after all.”

  “So what if it’s a little slippery?” Mariah said with a shrug. “I’ve got good hiking shoes.”

  “Marian,” Russ insisted, “I really don’t think—”

  But she’d already gone ahead. “Come on, Trip,” she called over her shoulder. “Or are you also afraid of a little ice?”

  “Who, me? Afraid?” Already he was leaping from boulder to boulder toward the glacier. “Last one up is a scaredy-cat.”

  Glancing over at Russ, Laurel saw him shake his head disapprovingly. “You’d think they would’ve learned by now.”

  “Well, you certainly don’t have to worry about me doing anything that stupid.” Cassie plopped down on a rock and took a small plastic bag out of her jeans pocket. “Trail mix, anybody?”

  Laurel sank down next to her. “Great. So now we sit and wait for the two of them while they show off.”

  “We might as well take advantage of the opportunity to take a little rest. We’ve still got the walk back to the car.” Russ stretched out on a small patch of grass, folding his arms under his head. “Any more letters from home, Laurel?” he asked conversationally.

  “No. Things have been pretty quiet. But thanks for asking.”

  “Asking what?” Cassie demanded. “I don’t get it.”

  “Oh, Russ happened to walk in on me once when I’d just gotten a letter from my mother, discussing her general disapproval of my entire life.”

  Surprised, Cassie glanced at Laurel, then Russ. “Gee, Laurel, are you and every male up here—?”

  Before Laurel was able to hear her question, a sharp cry cut through the valley. Automatically she raised her eyes upward, toward the glacier.

  Instantly she saw what was wrong. Mariah had slipped. She was lying on the smooth surface of the glacier, her face twisted in agony. With one hand she clutched her ankle.

  “Help me!” she groaned.

  Laurel stood up, shielding her eyes as she watched in horror. Her heart was pounding with fear. Trip was already rushing toward her, barely managing to keep his balance as he clumsily made his way across the ice.

  “Should we go up there?” Laurel asked.

  “She’s probably fine.” There was little sympathy in Russ’s tone. “Besides, Trip’s close enough to help. If she really needs it, that is.”

  Laurel, Russ, and Cassie stood balanced on giant boulders, watching as Trip helped Mariah across the ice. Fortunately, they hadn’t gone that far onto the glacier. Yet traveling even a short distance was proving to be a difficult task.

  “What happened?” Laurel demanded as Trip and Mariah got close enough to hear.

  “What do you think happened?” Mariah shot back crossly. “I slipped.”

  “Are you all right?” asked Russ.

  “Do I look like I’m all right?” she returned. “My ankle is killing me. I think I broke it. I heard it pop!” When none of the others said anything, she snapped, “Doesn’t anybody around here care?”

  Trip, struggling to bear most of her weight as he helped her off the glacier, cast her a scathing look. “I vote that we leave her here,” said Trip. “I’ve always though Mariah would make great bear food.”

  “Very funny.” Gingerly she lowered herself onto a boulder.

  Russ had taken out his Swiss Army Knife and was using the ice pick on it to cut a chunk out of the glacier. Then he wrapped it in a bandanna he plucked from his pocket. “Here,” he said, handing it to Mariah. “Put this on it.”

  She did as she was told, not bothering to say thank you. “Does anybody have any brilliant ideas about how we’re going to get me out of here?”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to get out the same way you got in,” Russ said simply.

  “You’re kidding.” There was an undertone of disbelief in Mariah’s voice. “Can’t we just wait for a—a helicopter or a plane to come

  by—?”

  “That simply doesn’t happen up here, Mariah.”

  Looking up at him, she narrowed her eyes accusingly. “You mean to tell me there’s no patrol around here, keeping an eye on campers and hikers?”

  “I’m afraid not. You seem to be forgetting you’re out in the wilds. ‘The Last Frontier,’ remember?”

  “Maybe there are some other hikers who can help.”

  “We haven’t seen anybody since we left the path,” Cassie pointed out.

  Russ shrugged. “Like I said, there’s no choice but for you to walk.”

  “I-I don’t think I can.”

  “You’ve got to try,” he insisted.

  “Here, let me help—” Laurel offered.

  “We’ll get her,” said Russ. He handed her Mariah’s backpack. “You can help by carrying this.”

  Laurel clutched the nylon bag against her chest, biting her lip as she watched Trip and Russ get on either side of Marian. Slowly, they eased her up to a standing position.

  “T
ry putting your weight on that foot,” Russ instructed. “Not too much, now—”

  “Ow!” she yelled. “Oh, it hurts!”

  Russ glanced at Laurel. “Probably broken.”

  “Great, just great,” said Trip, shaking his head. “How are we ever going to get out of here? We’re at least a mile from the Jeep. Probably more.”

  “I have an idea,” said Cassie. “Trip, you’re probably the strongest person here. The biggest, anyway. Can you carry Mariah piggyback?”

  “I think I’d rather be left here,” Mariah muttered.

  “You don’t have a lot of choice,” Russ pointed out. “Cassie, I think that’s an excellent idea.”

  “Hey, isn’t anybody going to ask me what I think?” asked Trip.

  “Russ is right,” said Laurel. “There’s no other way. Unless you can come up with something.”

  Trip thought for a few seconds, then kicked his backpack in her direction. “Here, carry that. I just hope my back doesn’t break.”

  “Fortunately, we Beverly Hills girls keep ourselves nice and thin,” Mariah said with mock sweetness.

  “Let’s hear it for compulsive dieting.” Trip stood in front of her, bending his knees and leaning over. “Hop up, my dear. And congratulations to all of you for being firsthand witnesses of the low point of my entire life.”

  “Like I’m enjoying this,” Mariah muttered as Russ helped her onto Trip’s back.

  “Hey, you two,” Laurel interrupted, “I think we’re all stressed out enough without both of you going out of your way to make a bad situation even worse. Do you think you could cool it, at least until we get back to the civilized world?”

  She bent down to pick up Trip’s backpack. But Russ beat her to it.

  “I’ve got that, Laurel,” he said. “You have enough to carry with Mariah’s.”

  “Thanks, Russ.” It was comforting to be reminded that at least one civil person was part of this group.

  Russ led the way, painstakingly picking out the safest, shortest route. Trip and Mariah were next, with him grunting and panting from the weight on his back and her letting out a yelp of pain every once in a while. Laurel followed, sagging under the weight of two backpacks. Cassie trailed behind, once again putting every ounce of energy she possessed into keeping up with the rest of the group.