Cotton Grass Lodge

by Woodbury, DeNise

  “Nell,” Duncan said, “who’s Edna?”

  Tom stood with his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his tattered work pants. “Nell, Edna ain’t there. Remember? She went Outside to see her daughter last month.”

  Nell narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. “Oh, well damn. I forgot.” Her face brightened. “Saves a trip, you feed the dog and don’t forget the cat. We’ll be back in a couple of days.”

  The one-sided exchange annoyed Duncan. He could see how Nell’s assumption ruffled Tom too. “Actually, Nell is going to be leaving for Arizona, I’m only going to be gone a couple of days. Tom, if you can’t watch the lodge, I’ll make other arrangements.”

  “Tom doesn’t have anything else to do. Let’s go.” Nell didn’t seem to notice her rudeness.

  Tom exchanged a look with Duncan. “I’ll be around. I’ll feed the dog.”

  Duncan stepped closer to Tom and stuck his hand out. “Thank you,” he said. “I’d like to talk to you when I get back. If all goes well, I’ll see you day after tomorrow.”

  Duncan released Tom’s hand and stepped back. He could read nothing from the man’s heavy lidded eyes.

  Chapter 5

  The Cessna landed at the lake the next morning. Duncan impatiently paced along the shore. His head buzzed with plans. He couldn’t wait to talk to Carl about the strategy he’d laid out for the rest of the summer.

  When Hanna exited the plane, Duncan’s day looked much brighter. “I didn’t expect to see you today.” He’d thought about her several times over the week. Her arrival refreshed his speculation on how attractive she was under all the clothes she’d had on when they met.

  “Scheduling changes gave me some time off.” She had deep brown, fall-into-them-and-get-lost eyes and he liked her perky smile, too. “I’m all about time in the air,” she said.

  Nell approached, dressed for her trip in a nice peach colored pants suit. “I’m gonna just leave the four-wheeler over there.” She pointed toward an overgrown tie-down. “It’ll be there when we get back.”

  Another slip of the tongue, Duncan had noticed an escalation of forgetfulness this week. He took one of Nell’s bags and his own backpack and ducked his head to put them into the plane.

  Hanna hefted Nell’s other suitcase into the plane. “Is this all you’re taking out?” She shifted, silently questioning Duncan.

  “I’ll get the rest when I get back from Arizona.” Nell turned to Duncan. “I’m going to visit my sister.”

  He nodded, she had told him three times this morning where she was going. “Yes,” he said, “I’ve agreed to store things until she returns.”

  This trip to Anchorage jammed Duncan’s mind to overload. One week since he’d flown this route and many ponds had broken skims of opaque ice, vast swaths of snow were gone, and Hanna’s distracting fragrance of vanilla and flowers filled the cabin of the plane.

  Once they landed, any idea Duncan may have had to loiter and chat with Hanna evaporated. She briskly walked into the office, dropped Nell’s suitcase, and looked at the multi-lined schedule board.

  “Charlie, I’ve got a back-haul here.” She used her fist to scrub a mark off the black board. “It’ll save time for me to fly here first.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Charlie said. He shoved a clipboard at her. “Git off the ground.”

  Her concentration on business was a pleasure to watch, and then she turned to him he actually blushed.

  “You can use the phone to call a cab. I got to get this old man off my behind,” she said.

  Ten minutes later, he and Nell stood in front of Charlie’s hanger waiting for his taxi. When it signaled a turn off the roadway, Nell turned Duncan’s hand shake into a hug. “I’ll be check’n up on you,” she said as she backed away.

  “Thank you, Nell. I’m sure I have lots to learn, but I’ll be fine. You have a good trip to Arizona.”

  The cab pulled into the rutted gravel parking lot, and Nell’s eyes flicked up and down the roadway. “My daughter is coming to pick me up. I hope she isn’t late.”

  Duncan recognized her insecurity. He sympathized with her, change always comes with uncertainty. But he hadn’t ever been this excited about starting a new project. His pulse thundered in his throat. The taxi dropped him at Carl’s office building.

  The breathtaking panorama of snow covered mountains filled the entire bank of windows at the end of the second floor hall, and Duncan stopped for a moment to stare. After the quiet of the lodge, he felt the bustle of the city vibrate in his chest.

  When he opened the door to the office, Carl turned from where he stood beside his secretary’s desk. In three bounding steps, he covered the short distance and enveloped Duncan in a mighty bear hug. “You made it. One whole week.”

  Duncan extracted himself. “It sounds like you didn’t expect me to make it. I did—last a week—and you’re fired. I told you last week how bad I thought it was. I officially declare Cotton Grass Lodge to be a disaster.”

  Carl stepped back, and his whole body smiled. His short, square stature belied the fact he was a dynamo. He looked as thick as he was wide and not an ounce of fat to be found. He nodded his balding head sagaciously. “I do not believe you’ve properly evaluated the potential of the establishment we now own, so you can’t fire me.”

  Duncan grabbed Carl by the lapel of his fleece vest. He would have continued the farce except both men exploded into gut-busting laughter. “Properly evaluated? You have no idea.” Duncan waved the battered notebook toward Carl. “Cancel all your appointments for the rest of the day. We have some evaluating to do.”

  The two men spent the afternoon intensely pouring over the list Duncan had brought back with him. “At first I thought you’d dragged me into a boondoggle, but the potential is there. If we had some equipment and a crew—”

  Carl laughed at Duncan’s excitement. “Duncan. Slow down. You can’t do it all at once.” Carl leaned across the desk toward his old friend. “Expect the unexpected, we’re in Alaska. Plan for nothing to go the way you plan.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  Carl stood. “I’m deadly serious. If you can’t be flexible, you’ll go crazy. Have fun my friend, work hard, and we’ll make a little money on this deal.”

  “Okay, give me the list—what’s left?” Duncan took a yellow tablet away from Carl and flipped the page. “I got the boots last week; I don’t really need a jacket and sweatshirts though. It’s summer. Right?”

  Carl shook his head, “Wrong, and you only got one pair of boots. You need a pair of Xtratufs and a dozen pairs of orange rubber fish gloves—to start. You really ought to have a pair of hip-waders and a set of Hellys too.” He took the tablet away from Duncan. “Did you bring any other work clothes?”

  Duncan looked down at his torn pants, “Aren’t jeans work clothes?”

  Carl zipped his fleece vest. “Anchorage’s box stores and the Commercial are gonna love us, there’s always the military surplus, too.” He looked at his watch and grinned. “We might get it done today.”

  They got run out of one store at closing time but they did get all the shopping done in one day. Duncan’s head swam with wonder as he and Carl loaded package after package into Carl’s truck. “Are you sure we have to do all this now?” Duncan asked. “It isn’t like the stores are going to run out.”

  Carl took a deep breath and pointed across the parking lot to two gray-haired ladies loading the contents of three push-carts into a van. “See those two women?”

  “Yeah,” Duncan said.

  “I know the place they keep near Glennallen. It’s a three hour drive from here and believe me. If there was a place to shop between here and there they would.” Carl slumped against the truck looking tired. “They can drive to Anchorage. You can fly. At least we don’t have to box all this stuff and haul it to the post office and mail it.”

  “Oh, please.” Duncan rolled his eyes in disbelief.

  Carl sobered. “You aren’t in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. In Ala
ska, lots of folks get their groceries by mail.”

  “You’re serious? Really.” Duncan checked his watch again to confirm the time. Daylight had dimmed but not gone away, and his head thought it should be dark. It was just after ten o’clock.

  “Yes,” Carl’s optimism rebounded. “Now, one more stop and my sweet wife has the guest room turned down and dinner waiting. Tomorrow is another day on your journey.”

  Chapter 6

  Early the next morning they drove Carl’s heavily loaded truck to the airport at Lake Hood and parked in front of the gate at Charlie’s. From there they could watch the early morning bee hive of activity on the gravel strip. Beyond it, the now open water of Lake Hood’s sea plane base bustled.

  “This is crazy-busy compared to Cotton Grass,” Duncan said.

  “Just wait. It’s early in the season.” Carl yawned and stretched. “You’ll be surprised before long.”

  The truck idled quietly keeping the defroster at work on the damp windshield. “Do you think Hanna will be here today?” Duncan asked as they sat watching another plane take off.

  Carl waited for the noise to abate as the plane passed overhead. “Doubt it, but you never know.” Carl grinned in Duncan’s direction. “Doesn’t sound like idle curiosity.”

  “Of course it is; she’s an interesting woman. I like keeping up with the neighbors.” Duncan was glad Carl couldn’t read minds. Hanna was a very interesting neighbor. “Oh good, there’s Charlie now.” He poked his thumb toward the rear as a faded pick-up turned into the lot and pulled up beside Carl’s truck.

  Charlie acknowledged the two with a nod, got out of the truck, and went to the office door. He let the old husky out before he returned to open the chain link gate into the area in front of the hanger doors.

  Carl drove through the gate. He waited as Charlie rolled a plane out of the hanger then carefully backed as close to the plane as he could.

  Duncan was favoring his bad leg this morning so he felt a kinship with the dog as she ambled in a three-legged shuffle through the still open gate. She greeted each man as they stepped around her. “Git outa the way, damn Dog.” Charlie admonished the animal. He bent down and gently pointed her away from where they walked and she circled back. The men continued stepping over and around the dog as they carried packages, bags, and plastic totes to the plane.

  Duncan bit down on being annoyed. Did all the dogs in his life have to be underfoot? Dog looked up at him with foggy old eyes, and he ran a hand over her head.

  “Now, you’re in trouble,” Charlie said. “She’s in love.” Dog leaned heavily into Duncan’s leg.

  When they finished loading the plane, Charlie’s gravel voice was low and somber, he held his hand out toward Duncan. “Take your nail clippers outta your pocket.”

  “Nail clippers? I—I don’t have any.” Confused, Duncan looked from Carl back to Charlie.

  “Good,” Charlie said. “We might get off the ground. There’s no doubt we’re over gross weight.”

  Carl laughed. “He’s a fast learner, Charlie. Give him a break.”

  “I don’t give anybody a break. You’re both fools.” Charlie squinted up into the gray sky. “Let’s get outta here. Soon as I get back, I got a date.”

  Carl shook hands with both men, and his embrace for Duncan was warm. “Stick to the plan. It’ll be fine.” He then got in his truck and splashed through the pocked parking lot.

  After Duncan and Charlie got into the Cessna 185, Charlie revved the engine up, watching the instruments, and then taxied out onto the gravel strip and took off for Cotton Grass Lake.

  Charlie cleared the hive of air traffic around Lake Hood’s airport, his gruff voice filling the headset with information, and Duncan gratefully soaked it up.

  “Ain’t much you can do about some stuff.” Charlie concluded, “If ya have trouble just call. We’ll see what we can do. Depends ’course, I just work here.” Duncan appreciated his offer above all else.

  “Who owns the business?” Duncan asked.

  “Damn Dog owns it. Don’t let her fool ya; she runs a tight ship.”

  Duncan decided not to pursue how that worked. Charlie continued to talk about Alaska and a jumble of unrelated topics.

  Duncan had now flown into Cotton Grass Lake four times. His curiosity intensified, and he asked Charlie the next obvious question. “Is it hard to learn to fly?”

  “Nope. You can drive a stick shift. You can fly a plane. Just one added dimension.”

  Duncan figured there was more to it, but still. “Hanna said you taught her to fly, does she have a regular schedule?”

  Charlie cocked an eyebrow and tipped his head in Duncan’s direction. “Nope, she’s busier than a one armed paper hanger, too damn many irons in the fire, if ya ask me. Just helps Dog out when she wants to go up to her cabin.” Charlie thumbed the mic on the yoke and made an announcement. “Cotton Grass Lake area traffic, this is Cessna one seven one four Alpha, landing south three six.”

  Duncan twisted his neck to look around. “Charlie, we haven’t seen another plane for fifteen minutes. Why did you tell an empty sky where you were?”

  Charlie scratched his five o’clock shadowed chin. “When was the last time you ran a red light ’cause you couldn’t see a car coming?” He paused, “You get my point? Fool.”

  “Yes.” Duncan craned his neck to look down at the lake. The ice had large patches of opaque color since he’d left and several irregular shaped holes. When the plane touched down he happily realized he has become accustomed to landing on a rough gravel strip. This time seemed not so loud or bumpy or fast.

  Charlie coasted the plane to the end of the strip and whipped the plane around in a tight circle. The two men unloaded freight into a pile on the ground. Charlie shook hands with Duncan. “I invoice every two weeks, so pay the dog on time, and we’ll get along fine. Good luck.” He got into the plane and closed the door with a firm tug. He opened a small sliding window and shouted, “Clear!”

  Duncan backed away as the engine coughed and the prop started and stopped and coughed again. The engine throttled up, and Duncan plugged his ears and closed his eyes as the prop wound up and threw sandy gravel into the air. He watched the plane bump along the strip as it motored to the other end of the runway and then turned into the wind. The engine howled over his head as it skipped off the end of the runway, tipped over the lake and turned into the hazy morning.

  Quiet descended. He was alone for the first time in years. Really alone. His insides trembled from the strain of the last several weeks. There was much to do before the season began, but right now a cup of coffee on his front porch sounded like a better idea. There weren’t any groceries to spoil, and no one to steal them. He hoped. The notion of not worrying about theft or vandalism was a concept new to his big city mindset.

  He turned and instead of the long stride toward the four wheeler he expected to take, he found his feet tangled in four fuzzy gray legs.

  Duncan landed hard on the dog. “Yii-yiik-yiik!” the puppy cried as he scrambled away.

  Duncan couldn’t remember the last time he’d fallen down. Rocks bit into the palms of both hands, and red stars swirled for a second in his eyes.

  Anger flared and burned with incandescent embarrassment. He pushed himself over and sat still to catch his breath. Chunks of gravel fell off his hands as he gingerly brushed them together. At his shoulder a warm, wet tongue lanced twice across his ear and his cheek before he could fend off the apology. “You don’t dance worth a damn.” He grumbled indignantly. “Dogs.”

  The dog backed away, its head drooped in abject misery. As they both limped toward the lodge, Duncan was amused to discover a dog could be embarrassed, too. The groceries could wait.

  Duncan fixed his cup of coffee, and when he went out onto the porch, he noticed the puppy, motionless and alert. Its attention focused on a small disheveled man standing at the edge of the yard. Duncan considered for a moment and raised his cup. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” The m
an came closer and stopped at the bottom of the steps. “I like sweet, hot tea.” He didn’t appear to have many teeth. The dog with him lay down at the bottom of the steps and tolerated the brief, exuberant greeting Nameless gave, and then both dogs quieted.

  “I’ll be right back.” Duncan turned and went through the door of the lodge to the kitchen and dropped a teabag into a cup. The kettle still had plenty of hot water. When Duncan returned to the porch, the man was seated in the porch swing, his toes just reached the deck, pushing a controlled back and forth motion of the swing. A smile spread across the visitor’s face.

  Duncan handed the cup to the little man. He fit the description Nell had given of the Shaman. “I’m Duncan,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  The Shaman rocked gently and sipped his tea. Duncan settled into his own seat at a willow-twig table. He preferred no conversation to mindless babble, and the Shaman seemed content to oblige.

  Duncan drifted into silent contemplation of the lake. The color seemed dull compared to the white sparkle of a few days ago. He stood to follow a softly rhythmic pulsation of sound coming from the lake. A raven’s wings rustled the still air as the bird flew a lazy path through the yard. Wonder tinged his voice, “I’ve never heard a bird fly before.”

  The Shaman stood and put his cup on the small table. “You will stay here a long time.” The words clicked and popped with the formality of a second language.

  Duncan found the innocuous smile as unnerving as the statement. “What’s your name?” There came no answer.

  The Shaman descended the steps and gently put his hands on the puppy, as if reacquainting himself with the shape of its head. He released the dog and continued on his way. The pup looked back over his shoulder at Duncan, and they both watched the Shaman and his dog disappear into a brushy path.

  Chapter 7