by Bonnie Leon
“Yes.”
“I'm going out now.” Jean stepped into the yard. The brute stood on the porch with his head inside the back door. “All right, bear! I'm here! I'm the one you want!”
He looked at her but didn't move. He seemed undecided about what to do.
“Come on, bear! Come and get me! There's nothin' in that house you need.” Jean picked up a handful of pebbles and started throwing them at the intruder.
The grizzly took a step toward her, then stood on his hind legs. Small black eyes glared at her. She couldn't remember being so frightened. Susie let out a loud wail, and the bear looked back toward the house. Jean took another step away from the barn. “Come on, bear. Come on. I'm here.”
Jean glanced at the corner where Laurel stood waiting. She can't make it without the bear seeing her! He'll be on her before she gets halfway there! Jean scanned the yard. I'll have to draw him away from the house.
The chicken house was only a dozen yards away, but it didn't have a door. It would be of no help. A pump house stood several yards beyond. Jean doubted she could make it there before the bear got her. I have to try. If I don't… She couldn't complete the thought. It was too horrible. If she could make it part of the way before the bear came after her, she might have a chance.
Father, give me courage. Help me run faster than I've ever run. And… if I die, take care of my family. Jean edged toward the pump house.
The bear followed her with his eyes but made no move.
Jean took another step, and another. She recalled hearing somewhere that the natives sometimes talked kindly to bears, and it seemed to calm them. Figuring she had nothing to lose, she said, “All right, bear, that's a good boy. Now, stay put for just a while.” She tried to sound serene. “Everything's just fine.” Her voice trembled. “No one's going to hurt you. Just let us get our little girl.”
Mouth open, eyes trained on Jean, the bear bounced on straight front legs in a show of intimidation. Froth dripped from his muzzle. Jean had managed to make it nearly halfway. She kept moving, slowly, steadily. There was no turning back. It was now a longer run to the barn than to the pump house. The bear continued to watch her.
What if he doesn't follow me? Jean wondered. Susie and Laurel could be killed. She changed her tone and talked louder. “Come on, bear.” She kept moving. “Come and get me. I'm right here.”
Then she remembered something Alex had told her, “Never run from a bear. If you do, he'll chase you.” I need to run, she decided. Once she started, she knew not to look back. Even one glance could slow her down enough to make the difference between safety and death.
Father, give me the speed of a deer, she prayed. “Come on! Get me,” she yelled, then sprinted for the refuge. Her feet pounding the earth, she gulped air. At first all she heard was her own breathing and the blood surging through her head. Then she heard panting and heavy footfalls close behind. She fought the urge to look back.
Pumping her arms, lifting her legs, and stretching out each stride, she ran as hard as she'd ever run. She could smell the animal and hear his huffing! It was close! Only a few more yards! she told herself. You can make it! She lunged for the pump house, slammed her hands against the door, and leaped inside. Shaking, she pushed the door closed, latched it, then pressed her weight against it. Terror consumed her. She glanced around the small dark room. It wouldn't hold up against an attack.
The bear threw himself against the door, biting and clawing at the wood. The door bounced beneath Jean's hands. She closed her eyes and pressed against it, then stared at the splintering door. It wouldn't hold.
The bear broke off his attack and prowled around the tiny sanctuary, occasionally digging along the base of the building or scratching at the walls. Low, throaty growls served as a warning of his intentions. With a roar he assaulted the door again, laying it open. Strips of wood were shorn away. Terror strangling her, Jean stared at the fractured door and at the teeth ripping at it.
Gunshots reverberated, and Laurel yelled, “Get! Get out of here!” More shots were fired, and the assault stopped. “Go on! Leave us be!” Laurel called.
It turned quiet.
“Mama, it's all right. He's gone. Come on out.”
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Jean let the shredded door fall open. She stepped into the sunshine and glanced about, searching for the animal. Her legs shook, and she felt like she might faint. Jean sat with her back resting against the pump house.
Laurel kneeled in front of her and pulled her into her arms. “Oh, Mama. I thought you were going to die.”
Tears of relief spilled down Jean's face. “So did I,” she managed to say.
“Why did you do that?”
“It was the only way. If I'd stayed where I was, you couldn't have gotten past him.” She glanced at nearby fields. “Where did he go?”
“He hightailed it into the woods over there.” Laurel pointed at a grove of birch and alder at the edge of the pasture.
“Susie's all right?”
“Yes. Just angry. She had her leg caught between the bars of the playpen.” Laurel smiled and said in a light tone, “Well, maybe Jessie will put this in her book.”
Still shaking, Jean pushed herself to her feet. Her eyes searched the woods. She thought she caught a glimpse of glimmering cinnamon, but then it was gone.
Chapter 3
LAUREL STOOD IN FRONT OF AN OAK-FRAMED MIRROR AND STUDIED HER reflection. Her hazel eyes sparkled, and her mouth turned up in a persistent smile. “This is it. Your wedding day.” Her heart quickened, and her stomach did a small flip. In less than an hour, she'd be Mrs. Adam Dunnavant. “Laurel Dunnavant,” she said. She touched the lace on the princess neckline of her dress, then hooked a pearl button at the wrist.
A soft knock sounded at the door. “Laurel, may I come in?” her mother asked.
“Yes.”
Jean stepped into the room, her eyes settling on her daughter. “You're beautiful.” Her voice caught, and she retrieved a handkerchief tucked inside a cuff and dabbed at her eyes. “I'm sorry. I've been weepy all day.”
Laurel rested a hand on her abdomen. “My stomach is full of butterflies. I think having the wedding in the morning is making it worse. My stomach always takes a while to wake up. I wish the train weren't leaving so early.”
Jean smiled and replaced her handkerchief. “Every bride gets anxious.” Reaching into a pocket, she pulled out a small box. “I have something for you.” She opened it and lifted a delicate necklace with a single pearl. “This belonged to your grandmother. I wore it on my wedding day. I thought you ought to have it.”
“Oh, Mama, it's beautiful.”
“It will be perfect with your dress. Turn around, and I'll fasten it for you.” Jean secured the necklace.
Fingering the teardrop pearl, Laurel gazed at it in the mirror. “It looks elegant.” She met her mother's eyes in the mirror. “Thank you.”
Again Jean teared up and brought out the handkerchief. “I don't know how I'll ever get through the wedding.”
Laurel kissed her mother and hugged her. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Jean said, the words sticking in her throat. She straightened. “Well, it's nearly time to leave. You ready?”
Laurel blew out a breath. “Yes.”
Organ music filled the sanctuary, and Adam's grasp was firm and sure as he and Laurel walked down the aisle as husband and wife. When they exited the doors, he stopped and faced his bride. “We did it! I love you, Mrs. Dunnavant!” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her eagerly.
Slightly embarrassed, Laurel returned his kiss.
“All right, that's enough of that,” Celeste teased.
Feeling giddy, Laurel stepped out of Adam's embrace.
“What a beautiful ceremony,” Celeste said, pulling her friend into a bear hug. “I'm so happy for you! Maybe it will be Robert and me next,” she whispered.
“What about your father?”
“He's already fit to be tied because
I'm seeing Robert, but he'll have to get used to it.” A momentary flash of sadness touched her eyes, and then Celeste turned on a bright smile and gave Adam a hug. “You'd better take good care of my best friend.”
“I will. I promise.”
Robert stepped up to Adam. “Congratulations. I wish you both well.”
“Thank you,” Adam said, shaking Robert's hand.
Robert turned to Laurel. “I'm happy for you. You and Adam were meant to be together.” He gave Laurel a brotherly hug.
Remembering the relationship she and Robert had once shared, Laurel felt a twinge of sadness—not because she hadn't married Robert, but because she knew how much she'd hurt him. “Thank you, Robert,” she said.
Celeste linked arms with the lanky man. “I'm ready for a party. How about you?”
“Sounds good,” Robert said with a grin. “But I think you have to stay with the rest of the wedding party and greet the guests first.”
“Oh. Right.” Celeste took her place beside Laurel.
The next two people to leave the church were Miram and Ed. Miram headed straight for Laurel. “You're the most beautiful bride I've ever seen!” she said in her high-pitched voice as she hugged Laurel. “I hope I look half as pretty on my wedding day.” She batted her eyelashes and glanced up at Ed.
Laurel whispered, “You'll be beautiful, and Ed will be proud of you.”
Miram blushed. “You think so?”
Laurel nodded. “Yes, I do.”
Smiling, Miram crinkled her cheek to push up her glasses, then catching herself, she rearranged them with her hand and moved on to congratulate Adam.
Guests moved through the receiving line, and by the time the last one headed for the reception at the community building, Laurel felt as if she'd been hugged and kissed by most of Palmer.
At the reception there were toasts and speeches, followed by dancing and cake-cutting. Finally Laurel threw her bouquet to a cluster of single women anxious to capture the prize. Lunging past the others, Celeste managed to catch it and held up the bouquet in triumph.
Will and Jean stood at the bottom of the steps, their arms intertwined as they watched Laurel and Adam hurry for the train depot. Jean dabbed at tears and waved when Laurel turned and smiled her good-bye.
Laurel snuggled close to Adam and gazed out the window as the train headed north. “I'm glad you thought of Mt. McKinley. It's a perfect place for a honeymoon.” She leaned her cheek against his arm, enjoying the feel of his worsted jacket.
“It's just a camp, not fancy.”
“I don't mind. I'm used to tents, remember? We lived in one our first summer here.” She hugged his arm. “Any place with you will be perfect.”
Adam kissed the top of her head. “It's hard to believe you're my wife. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and this will be a dream.”
“This is no dream,” Laurel said and nestled against her husband.
A few hours later the train chugged into the station at the entrance to Mt. McKinley Park. An open-air bus waited to take them and a handful of other passengers to the camp. A tall slender woman with short brown hair, wearing tan slacks and a lightweight jacket stood beside the bus. She was plain, but her eyes held a spark of humor and energy, making her look almost pretty.
“Welcome to Mt. McKinley Park,” she said. “I'm Janet Holcomb. I'll be driving you to the camp.” She grinned. “You can all be thankful for the warm spring weather. First thing, we need to get your luggage on the bus.”
Adam grabbed two suitcases. “Where do you want them?”
“In the back. There's plenty of room.” She picked up two other bags and stowed them beside the ones Adam had already loaded. Another man added more, and Adam hefted the last one on top of the pile.
“Where's the mountain?” a short, chunky woman asked. “I was told we would see it.”
“It's there,” Janet pointed toward Mt. McKinley. “But the clouds are hiding it. Sorry. It happens a lot. We get socked in here pretty regularly. The park has lots of beautiful and interesting sites, though. I think you'll enjoy yourselves even if the mountain doesn't come out of hiding.” She opened the bus door. “Everyone on board.” The people climbed in and found places to sit, while Janet slid onto the driver's seat and started the engine.
“How far to the camp?” a man smoking a pipe asked.
“It'll take about an hour to get there. Supper ought to be waiting for us.” Janet shifted into first and pulled onto a dirt road. “It'll be a bit bumpy, but it won't be boring. There's lots to see.”
Gravel crunched beneath the tires, and a cold breeze blew over the passengers. Taking in the surroundings, Laurel bundled deeper into her coat, her excitement growing. Stately looking mountains hemmed in broad valleys carpeted with low-growing grasses and broad patches of snow. Ponds left by melting snow dotted the landscape, and narrow rivulets wound their way through ravines. A few hardy flowers grew close to the earth, splashing the fields with bursts of color.
Birdsong echoed from all around. Sparrows, warblers, and finches flittered from low-growing bushes. Some balanced on frail willow limbs, while others were planted on the sturdy branches of stark spruce. Except for the lusty comical chortle of a willow ptarmigan, their mix of songs reminded Laurel of an orchestra.
“Oh, look!” the short woman said, pointing at a small herd of shaggy caribou sprinting across the road and leaping down an embankment on their right. “Why do they look so awful?”
“They're still shedding their winter coats,” Janet said. “They'll soon look like themselves. In the meantime, they look pretty moth-eaten.”
“Why does the herd only have males? Where are the females?” the woman asked.
Janet chuckled. “The herd has both males and females. All caribou have horns, even the cows, but the bulls have larger racks. The cows will be calving soon.”
Laurel watched the animals trail their way into a small valley. “Aren't they something! I love it here!”
“I'm glad,” Adam said, tightening his arm around her shoulders.
“There's a bear!” a man called, then asked in a tense voice, “How come this bus don't have windows?”
Janet slowed the vehicle and glanced at the brute on the bank above them.
“You don't have to stop,” the man said.
“Don't worry. He's more interested in a meal than he is in us,” Janet explained.
The bear stopped digging and looked at the bus. A few moments later he returned to digging.
“What's he doing?” Laurel asked.
“Probably after a ground squirrel, one of the bears' favorite foods.” Janet moved on, expertly shifting through the gears.
The bus headed down a steep incline, splashed through a clear-running stream, ground its way up the opposite bank, and pulled into a camp made up of one log cabin and several tents. Stopping in front of the cabin, Janet said, “Here we are.”
Adam looked at the tents and four outhouses. “It's kind of primitive.” He raised an eyebrow.
“It's fine. I love it,” Laurel said with a smile. Then she saw a monstrous mountain gleaming in the sunlight like a brilliant jewel. Deep snows slashed by dark gashes of granite glowed pink and gold in the sunlight. This mountain towered above all the nearby mountains and hills. It had to be Mt. McKinley. She'd never been so close.
Hands on hips, Janet stared at the peak. “Well, how about that? It decided to show off for you after all.” In a more businesslike tone, she said, “You'll need to register. Sign in at the main building. You'll get your tent assignments and a camp schedule. You have lots of activities to choose from. We've got horseback riding, hiking, mountain climbing, fishing, and sight-seeing, plus games. And after supper we'll have some good old-fashioned singing around the campfire.”
The idea of horseback riding interested Laurel most. It had been a long while since she'd ridden. She placed her hand on Adam's arm. “Have you ever ridden a horse?”
“No.”
“Would you like to?”
“I'm game.”
“After we get our room, can we go for a short ride? It would be a nice way to see some of the park.”
“Sure. If that's what you want.” Adam sounded disappointed, but he gave Laurel a gentle squeeze. “We'll do whatever you want.” He glanced at the log house and row of tents. “First we need to find our room.”
After getting their room assignment, Adam and Laurel walked hand in hand between the row of tents. Adam glanced at a piece of paper he'd been given. “Number 8,” he said, stopping in front of the one with a number eight painted on it. He set down his suitcase and stepped up to the door. Pulling open the flap, he peeked inside. “Not bad.” He caught Laurel in an embrace and kissed her. “Do you think we might postpone that ride? Just for a little while?”
“Maybe,” Laurel said, quaking inwardly. She was innocent and not quite sure what to expect. Should she be frightened?
He lifted her in his arms.
Laughing, Laurel dropped her suitcase with a loud thump. “What are you doing?”
“You're my bride, aren't you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I'm carrying my bride over the threshold. Isn't that how it's supposed to be done?” Circling her arms around his neck, Laurel leaned against Adam as he carried her into their temporary home.
The room was simple but comfortable. It contained two cots, each with a brightly colored quilt, a chest of drawers, a small table with two chairs, and a woodstove radiating heat. “How is this, Mrs. Dunnavant?” Adam asked.
“Fine. Just fine.”
Adam looked at the beds. “I guess they'll have to do.” Still holding Laurel, he crossed the room and sat on one.
Laurel remained in his arms. She'd wondered how she would feel at this moment. Now that it was here, she was aware of a deep longing for and devotion to her husband. This is how it was meant to be, man and woman together. A covenant created and blessed by God.
Looking into Adam's warm, blue eyes, she felt as if she were swimming in his love. She kissed him gently, slowly. Searching his face, she said, “I love you, Adam Dunnavant.”