Alaska Twilight Part 8

Kipp turned to leave the tent. "I certainly hope so. I wouldn't be able to find another photographer of your skill and reputation easily. You signed on to do this project, and you'd better do whatever is necessary to finish it." The tent flap closed. "We need to get some sleep before that blasted sun comes up again."

Nine.

The loud cacophony of birds in the spruce outside her tent wakened Haley to the full suns.h.i.+ne filtering through the thin tent fabric. The aroma of coffee drifted in the tent opening. Haley sat up and reached for her prosthesis, then dropped her hand. She closed her eyes. "Great, just great," she muttered. She sat up and reached out to grab the stick Denny had brought her last night.

Instead in its place she found two cut from a tree fork. On each one, the crook seemed to fall under her arm just about right and had a k.n.o.b for her hand to grab about halfway down. Tank's thoughtfulness-she was sure it was Tank who had carefully chosen them-touched her, though her reluctance to show her vulnerability to the group remained strong.

The other sleeping bag was empty, and even Oscar had deserted her. Haley couldn't believe Augusta had managed to get dressed and out of the tent without waking her. She quickly pulled on some Ezra Fitch jeans and several layers of tops, then tied up the right leg of her pants to keep it from dragging on the ground. Tying off the leg highlighted her stump even more. The mercury had to hover close to forty this morning, and her breath frosted the air. She pulled on her wool jacket, tested the makes.h.i.+ft crutches, then took a deep breath and exited the tent.

The others huddled around the fire in the middle of the clearing. "I never imagined it would be so cold here in May," Cary Waters grumbled.

"It's usually warmer. This weather won't last long," Tank said.

They saw Haley, and conversation stopped. An awkward silence stretched out. "Good morning," she said, forcing a smile. "I hope you saved me some coffee. It smells great." Watching carefully where she put each crutch, she swung toward the fire.

Tank sprang to his feet and pointed toward the tree stump he vacated. "Have a seat, and I'll get you some breakfast."

She hated to be waited on, hated to feel helpless. "Thanks." She sank onto the stump. Oscar came to see her. He had his wiener-in-a-bun rubber toy. "How'd you get that?" she scolded. She tried to take it from him, but he squeaked it and ran off with it in his mouth.

"He was being a nuisance this morning, so I gave it to him. I can't say it helped much," Augusta said. "He's been squeaking it for an hour."

"I can usually only stand it an hour a day," Haley said. "I thought about leaving it at home, but I knew he'd mope without it."

"You act like that dog is a kid." Tank handed her a steaming cup of coffee, black and aromatic.

"Thanks. Got any creamer?" She decided to ignore his comment about her dog. It was none of his business if she chose to spoil her pet. She studied him while he dug through the cache of food for the creamer. Out here he reminded her even more of Paul Bunyan. He wore a green-and-black-plaid wool s.h.i.+rt and jeans with muddy boots.

She looked away to see Erika watching her with a knowing smirk. Haley's cheeks burned, and she shrugged and looked away.

Tank handed her a packet of creamer. "I've called for a plane. It should be here any minute. I guess we're all going to town for some R&R."

"There's no sense in staying out here without a photographer," Kipp said. "We might as well sleep in a decent bed for a few nights."

"I need a manicure," Erika announced.

"I could use a pedicure," Haley said, giggles erupting. "You all don't have to tiptoe around what's happened. I'm fine. I lost my leg when I was eight. As long as I have my prosthesis, I can do anything the rest of you can do. And really, who else has a weapon like mine? I hit that intruder right on the head with it." She raised one crutch in the air. "He'll know better than to mess with Haley Walsh again."

Erika put her hand over her mouth and giggled. Relief ricocheted through the camp. "Really-you've had your leg cut off since you were eight? What happened?"

Haley's smile died. She should have known that question was coming, should have prepared for it. Her gaze found her grandmother's, and she sent her a silent plea.

Augusta stood. "My goodness, if we're going to leave for town, we need to get our tents down and our things ready. The plane will be here in a few minutes."

Erika groaned. "I'm tired. I don't want to move." She got slowly to her feet and went toward the tent. Kipp followed. Everyone else did the same except for Tank. His tent and belongings were already stowed and awaiting the plane.

"I'll take your tent down when Augusta is finished packing." His gaze, strong and intense, never left her face. "Every time someone mentions the past, you close up. It might help to talk about it."

Oscar came running from the woods without his toy. He jumped into her lap. "I've tried that," Haley said. "It just brings back memories I'd rather forget." She looked toward the woods. "What did you do with your toy, Oscar?"

"Losing your leg must have been painful," Tank said.

"I don't remember much about it." She was a liar. She remembered every sleepless, sweat-soaked night in the hospital. She would wake up terrified and reach under the covers, all the while hoping and praying the leg was still there-that it had all been a terrible nightmare. The real pain, though, had been the remembrance of what happened to Chloe.

"You're a real trouper." He squeezed her shoulder and went toward the tent to help Augusta.

If he only knew it was all a facade. The real Haley was a quivering ma.s.s of jelly behind the cheerful pretense.

Where would that stupid dog have dropped his toy? Tank kicked through spruce needles and soft dirt in pursuit of the elusive hot-dog squeaky toy. Maybe it would be a blessing not to find it. The pooch had annoyed them all with the squeaks. Only the thought of Haley's disappointed face drove him on. She'd been through enough. No wonder she was so attached to the dog.

He caught a glimpse of red and stooped to grab the toy. As he turned to head back to camp, he stumbled over something in the dirt. He kicked the spruce needles out of the way to see what it was. A black pouch with a drawstring. He picked it up and opened it. A camera lens nestled inside the soft leather. It had to be Haley's, but she thought nothing had been taken. This ought to cheer her up.

Whistling, he headed back to the river. The sound of the water rus.h.i.+ng over rocks and tree stumps nearly drowned out the voices of the crew, but he followed the faint sound and found Kipp and his group awaiting the plane.

"You found it!" Haley's smile broke out in full force. Oscar began to bark and ran to jump on Tank's leg.

"Sure did." He dropped the toy to the dog. "This yours?" He held out the lens and pouch.

Her eyes widened, and she reached out to take it. "It looks like one of my zoom lenses. Where did you find it?"

"Near Oscar's toy. I didn't remember you going out where I found it, though. I think our intruder must have taken it, then dropped it."

"Why would he drop it? It cost over a thousand dollars." Haley unzipped her backpack and rummaged through it. "Yes, it's mine. I thought I'd accounted for everything. I bet I missed checking the small outside pouch. This isn't one I use often."

"Maybe he didn't know he dropped it," Denny said.

"And it was dark, so he might have had trouble finding it even if he did know," Kipp said. "But all's well that ends well. At least Haley has it back." He shaded his eyes with his hand. "Looks like our plane is coming."

"I have you to thank that we don't have to hike out," Erika told Haley. "I was so not looking forward to a two-hour hike."

Tank suppressed a grin. Did the woman think Haley would want to damage her prosthesis just to get out of a hike? His gaze caught Haley's, and he saw the same amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes. He winked, and she looked away. Darn, she was a hard woman to get close to. The thought took him aback. He didn't want to get close to her.

Stalwart, Alaska, looked like a rough-and-tumble town right out of the gold-rush days. Wooden storefronts in need of paint lined a rough, muddy track they called Frontier Street. It looked the same as it had twenty years ago. Haley saw familiar businesses, and even the hotel was still the same faded color.

The pickup truck trying to jolt the stuffing out of her was driven by a congenial Native Tank called Sam. She and Augusta were squashed on the bench seat while the rest of the group rode in the back of the vehicle, which sported more rust than paint.

"Here we be." Sam threw on the brakes. The truck slid to a halt in the mud outside the hotel.

Augusta opened the door and climbed out. She turned to help Haley climb down, but Tank hopped over the side of the truck bed and held out his hand. "Why don't I carry you? It will be hard to walk on crutches in this mud."

"I can manage," Haley said. She planted her crutches and hopped down. Tank frowned but didn't protest. She hobbled past the door, and he shut it behind her. She wanted to dance with joy at the open sky above her. No trees. And houses and stores, even if they were mostly ramshackle shops. She was actually back in civilization of a sort.

"Thanks," Tank told Sam. While the rest of the group tossed the belongings out of the truck, he moved alongside Haley as she laboriously made her way toward the sidewalk.

She thought she was going to make it with no mishap, but five feet from the walk, her right crutch sank unexpectedly deep in the mud, and she lost her balance. Tank reached out to grab her hand, but his right foot skidded, and he began to slide. He barreled into her, and they both went down in a tangle of limbs. She sat down in the mud with her foot straight out in front of her. The cold mud seeped through her jeans and sucked at her hands. It was like being encased in cold plaster.

She looked down at the black goo that covered her. This was all Tank's fault. She wanted to throw something at him. Before she knew what she was doing, she scooped up a handful of mud. Then it was on his face. She couldn't believe she'd done it, but the smear of black down his cheek was proof.

He staggered to his feet. She knew she should apologize, but the words lodged behind her teeth, then her nervous giggles erupted. He wasn't laughing. He wiped his face, but the mud on his hand just deposited more goo on his cheek.

"Haley Walsh, I'm ashamed of you. It was an accident," her grandmother said.

Haley barely noticed Augusta as Tank's grim face changed to a grin. He loomed over her. "You want a fight?" He smeared mud on her face.

She gasped at the touch of the cold, clammy goop. Her hand came up and touched the wet smear on her cheek. Grabbing up another handful of mud, she flung it at him, and it plopped onto his left cheek. It clung for a moment, then dribbled down onto his s.h.i.+rt. She laughed, challenging him with her gaze to continue the battle.

"You're going to pay for that," he threatened, narrowing his eyes. He scooped another handful and raised his hand to throw it.

"Children, children, that's enough." Augusta stepped carefully through the mud and grabbed Tank's arm.

He looked at the mud in his hand, then dropped it like it was moose dung. A wave of red ran up his neck, and his gaze went past her. Haley couldn't look at him either. What were they thinking? They'd almost been flirting with one another, right in front of everyone. She wasn't sure what had gotten into her. The faster she could get out of this mudhole of a town, the better.

Ten.

Tank left a trail of hardened mud on the sidewalk as he jogged down to see Chet, still a little chagrined over the childishness of his mudslinging. At the same time, he had to admit he wasn't wholly embarra.s.sed. Haley had shown a lot of s.p.u.n.k through circ.u.mstances that would have angered and humiliated some women. He liked that about her. In spite of her city ways, she had guts.

Tank's attention turned to more pressing matters as he neared the jail. The door to Chet's office stood open, and a line of people stretched out the door all the way to the window near the end of the wooden building. Loud, angry voices made Tank proceed cautiously. Alaska was filled with strong-willed people who had no hesitation in making their wishes known, and even in a small town like Stalwart, politics could get heated-and physical.

He stepped past the men into Chet's office and found the trooper standing by his desk. "What's going on, Chet?"

"Your bear just ransacked a fis.h.i.+ng camp out near Glenn River. Jed Hoose is going to lose a leg. I told you not to turn that bear loose. You should have sold him to a zoo or something!"

"Calm down, Chet. There's no telling which bear it was."

The trooper dropped into his chair. "If Jed dies, his blood will be on your head, Tank."

Tank laid a hand on Chet's shoulder. "Slow down and tell me what happened. Jed is a friend of mine." Jed Hoose was one of the first people to welcome Tank to the area when he moved here, and the two of them used to play cards over the long, dark nights before Tank married Leigh.

"A bear attacked last night. Knocked over the tent while he was cooking supper, mauled Jed, and hauled away his food. One of the other fishermen got back in time to drive the bear off before it came back for Jed." Chet nodded toward the line outside. "They're demanding action. Your bear has to go, Tank. I'm sorry. I should have done this sooner." His voice lowered.

"How do you know it's Miki? Did Jed say so?" If Jed said it, Tank would believe it.

"He's too out of it to say. But the bear tracks indicated a missing toe."

Tank tensed. "How do they know the tracks were of the bear that did the mauling? Miki could have been nosing around and had nothing to do with the attack." He was beginning to think his hope was futile.

"His prints were found at the site, just like where Doc's body was found. You just don't want to face the truth, Tank."

Tank took off his hat and rubbed his forehead. "Maybe I don't. Did the fisherman who drove off the bear give a description?"

"I'm going to go talk to him now. I'll let you know what he said." Chet rose and grabbed his hat from a hook on the wall.

Tank followed him out the door. "Is Jed going to make it?"

Chet nodded. "Not being able to get out in the bush and go fis.h.i.+ng is going to kill him."

"He can still go," Tank said, thinking of Haley's s.p.u.n.k.

"Be pretty hard on crutches to hike the rough ground."

"I know someone with a prosthesis who does pretty well hiking."

Chet raised his eyebrows. "You might get him to talk to Jed when he is well enough to talk."

"It's a her. And I'll do that." Maybe Jed would be ready to talk in a few days. Tank winced inwardly. Losing a limb would be hard to take.

Chet nodded. "There's Loch Lehman now. He's the one who drove off the bear."

"Mind if I tag along?"

"Not a problem. Sorry if I was a little hard on you. It's been a rough day."

Tank fell into step beside Chet. "Any word from Marley?"

Chet shook his head and stopped to gawk at the tourists flocking into the Moose Nuggets shop. "Would you look at that! When Anna said people would buy jewelry and stuff made from lacquered moose droppings, I thought she was nuts."

Tank glanced through the window and back toward Chet. Was he trying to change the subject on purpose? He had to feel caught in the middle between his daughter and Tank. "About Marley," he began.

Chet took off again and intercepted Loch Lehman. A bony man in his fifties, Loch was Ichabod Crane in jeans and suspenders. He rarely smiled, probably inhibited by his teeth, blackened by years of snuff use.

"I heard you were the hero today, Loch," Tank said.

Loch shrugged. "He would have done the same for me."

"Did you get a good look at the bear?" Chet asked.

"Sure. I was as close as I ever want to get. Big sucker. Old, too, with half his teeth missing. And gaunt. I'd guess he has trouble hunting so he takes to easier prey."

Tank closed his eyes briefly. Thank G.o.d it wasn't Miki. He looked at Loch. "You ever seen this bear before? Did you notice his toes?"

"I can't say I was paying attention to his toes." Loch spit a wad of tobacco on the ground.

"There were tracks found of a bear with a toe missing. We thought it was Miki," Chet said.