Alaska Adventure

by Cynthia Baxter

  “Okay, Mariah. You can do it. Jump toward me, and I’ll break your fall.”

  “But my ankle!” Mariah cried.

  “Don’t worry about your ankle. Try landing on your other foot. You’ve got to get out of there!”

  Mariah climbed out slowly, her face twisted with pain. When she finally leapt out of the window, she fell against Cassie. Both of them let out yelps as they tumbled over. Mariah’s leg was bleeding as she stood up, and she kicked away the sharp branch that had scraped her. But at least she was out of the cabin. Cassie grabbed her around the waist and helped her toward the Jeep.

  Cassie and Mariah finally made it inside the car. Mariah climbed in front and Cassie got in back with Trip and Danny. But they weren’t all out of danger—at least, not yet. Laurel sat gripping the steering wheel as she watched the cabin anxiously.

  “What are you waiting for?” Trip asked, his voice edged with hysteria. “Let’s get out of here!”

  “Trip, Russ is in there!” Cassie reminded him.

  “Get us out of here!” Trip demanded.

  “We have to wait for Russ,” Laurel insisted. She kept her eyes fixed on the cabin. From inside she could hear the bear’s growls.

  And then, suddenly, he let out a loud bellow. It cut through the forest like a gunshot. The earth seemed to tremble as the giant animal came crashing out of the cabin. All five of them watched as the bear took off, running into the forest, the dense growth of trees finally swallowing him up.

  Laurel’s hands were clutched against her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. “Is everybody all right?”

  “I think so,” Cassie assured her, panting.

  “At least we are now,” Mariah added. “Laurel, if you and Russ hadn’t shown up when you did, I don’t know what would have happened to us.”

  “Thanks, Laurel,” Cassie said. “You sure have good timing.”

  Laurel peered at Trip through the rearview mirror. He was sitting slumped over in the backseat, his arms folded protectively around himself, his blue eyes wide. His face was completely drained of blood, his expression one of shock. Her first impression could well have been that he was just kidding around. But she could see that his terror was real.

  “It’s okay now, Trip,” Laurel said soothingly, turning around to look at him over her shoulder. “You’re safe.”

  “The bear’s gone,” Danny assured him. “With that pepper spray in his eyes, he won’t bother us again for a long time.”

  Russ came out of the cabin then, his face red, his straight brown hair falling into his eyes. He walked with his shoulders slumped, as if he were completely drained.

  “Is he gone?” he demanded, blinking hard as he looked around. “I-I couldn’t see out the window that well.”

  “Yes, he’s gone,” said Laurel. “We saw him run into the woods.”

  Now that Russ was close, Laurel could see his eyes were tearing from the pepper spray. “He was a big one.” His voice was shaky. “A full-grown male. I’d put him at well over a thousand pounds—”

  “Get in the car,” Laurel suggested gently. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Russ glanced back at the cabin. “We might as well. That pepper spray’s so potent it’ll be some time before we can go back into the cabin again.” He shook his head. “I’m anxious to see how bad the damage is. I’m afraid that bear really did a number on the place.”

  “The only thing that matters,” said Laurel, “is that we’re all safe.”

  It sounded like such a simple, obvious thing to say. Yet never before had those words seemed so true.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Wow.” Dr. Wells shook his head slowly, glancing up from the stack of notes he was putting back in order. “The five of you certainly had a harrowing experience.”

  “You mean the six of us,” Russ corrected him. Sweeping up the refuse left behind by the bear, he paused. “Don’t forget Danny.”

  Laurel nodded in agreement. “I’m sure last night was a night he’ll remember for the rest of his life.”

  It was early the next day. After spending a restless night crowded into the Torvolds’ cabin, curled up on the floor with sleeping bags and blankets, the group had come back to their own cabin. Dr. Wells ventured inside first, wanting to see if the air had been sufficiently cleared of the pepper spray for them to enter. Once he’d decided it was safe, the others had gone in, curious to see just how much damage the bear had done.

  For two hours they’d toiled. Cleaning up the kitchen turned out to be the most tedious job. Laurel and the others labored over the broken jars of honey and maple syrup that had mixed with the mounds of cereal and rolled oats spilled on the floor. Not quite as messy, but at least as frustrating, was putting their papers back in order. The bear had knocked over the table, sending files and neat stacks of notes sprawling across the floor in a state of complete disarray.

  But that had been just the beginning of the destruction wreaked by the bear. Trip and Cassie took down the shredded mosquito netting that had once lined the doorway and would now have to be replaced. Russ and Laurel scraped muddy paw prints off the front porch and the floors. As for the long, deep claw marks that marred the exterior of the building, as well as the floor and the wooden table, they could not be cleared away as easily. That was also true of the torn couch. A single swipe of the giant beast’s claw had shredded the seat cushion from one end to the other. Foam-rubber stuffing was already spilling out.

  Finally, Cassie and Trip volunteered to carry out the bags containing the broken bottles, spilled food, and ripped netting. Mariah retired to her room to rest her aching foot.

  “Well,” said Laurel, standing in the middle of the living area with her hands on her hips, “maybe the cabin suffered a few scars. But at least none of us did.”

  Dr. Wells nodded. “Thank goodness for that.”

  The loud roar of an engine, moving closer and closer, came as a surprise, breaking into the otherwise peaceful silence that surrounded the cabin. Laurel glanced out the doorway and saw a floatplane hovering above Wolf Lake. Printed on the side were the words “Alaska Department of Fish and Game.”

  Dr. Wells joined her at the door as she watched the plane dip lower and lower, the massive balloon-like pontoons on either side allowing it to land on the surface of the water.

  “That’s Ben Seeger for you,” said Dr. Wells, chuckling. “John Torvold radioed him first thing this morning, and he’s already on the scene.”

  Laurel’s reaction to the arrival of the seaplane was quite different. An uncomfortable knot had already formed in her stomach. With all the excitement of the bear’s attack on the cabin, she’d completely forgotten about the discovery she and Russ had made in Anchorage the day before. Now, she was reminded of the difficult task before her.

  “Dr. Wells,” she said nervously, checking over her shoulder to make sure the others were out of earshot, “there’s something Russ and I have to talk to you about. In private.”

  “Can’t it wait? I’m sure Ben’s going to want you to fill him in on what happened last night. No doubt there’ll be a written report to file—

  “It’s pretty important.” Laurel drew in her breath sharply. “Dr. Wells, I think Russ and I have figured out who’s responsible for the bear poachings around Wolf Lake. Yesterday, when we were at the Department of Fish and Game—”

  “I’m anxious to hear what you have to say, Laurel, but I’m afraid we’ll have to hold off until later,” Dr. Wells insisted. “Right now, I’d better see if Ben needs any help.” He hurried down the path to greet his friend, leaving Laurel standing in the doorway.

  A few minutes later he and Ben Seeger were making their way up the path from the lake toward the cabin. “Sounds like you had some trouble last night,” Laurel heard Ben say as the two men drew near.

  “That’s an understatement,” Dr. Wells replied.

  “Torvold assured me that everybody was okay,” Ben said, climbing the steps to the cabin. “It sounds like your peo
ple all behaved like heroes. Danny, too.”

  “Everyone’s fine,” Dr. Wells assured him as he went into the cabin, with Ben and Laurel right behind him. “A little shaken up, of course. But it could have been a lot worse. And as you can see, after a morning of hard work, we’ve got things pretty much back in order.”

  Ben cast Laurel a friendly smile. “It looks like you put in a hard morning’s work.” Glancing around, he commented, “But it does look like you’ll need a new couch.”

  Dr. Wells grinned. “That old thing was on its last legs anyway.”

  “Hello, Russ,” Ben said, nodding toward the boy standing in the kitchen, wiping off the kitchen counter.

  “Hi, Mr. Seeger.”

  Laurel and Russ exchanged meaningful glances. Ben didn’t seem to notice.

  “I’m hoping the witnesses will give me as much detail about what happened as they can,” he said. “I’ll need to file a report with the Department.”

  “I’m sure that won’t be a problem. In the meantime,” said Dr. Wells, “there’s something else brewing that I think you’ll be interested in. Laurel seems to think she’s uncovered the mystery behind the bear poachings.”

  Ben Seeger’s friendly smile faded. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not sure. What is it you wanted to tell me, Laurel? This is as good a time as any, since this is Ben’s area of responsibility.”

  This time the look Laurel cast Russ was one of alarm.

  “Do you want me to start, Laurel?” he asked softly.

  “No. I....” She swallowed hard. “Dr. Wells, Russ and I think Mr. Seeger might know more about the bear poachings than we thought.”

  Dr. Wells frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “Maybe you’d better show Dr. Wells the note, Laurel,” Russ suggested.

  “I’ve got it right here.” Laurel drew the warning letter out of her backpack and showed it to Dr. Wells. “Maybe we should have shown it to you sooner, but we wanted to wait until we figured out who sent it. Look at the jagged edge—and the strange paper it’s written on.”

  Dr. Wells held the note in his hand, peering at it. “This is a page out of a Write-in-the-Rain pad, isn’t it?”

  “Exactly.” Biting her lip, she said, “Yesterday, when Russ and I were in Anchorage, I stumbled across Mr. Seeger’s pad. I couldn’t help noticing that there was a page ripped out ... a page with an edge that looked very much like this one.”

  Ben Seeger’s eyes had narrowed. “What are you implying?”

  Dr. Wells looked puzzled. “You must have brought along your Write-in-the-Rain book, Ben, didn’t you?”

  Ben kept his cold gaze on Laurel a little longer before turning his attention to Dr. Wells. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I have it today.”

  “Why don’t you check your backpack?” Dr. Wells suggested. “Maybe it will help get this settled once and for all.”

  “Well, I—” He hesitated, looking from Dr. Wells to Russ and then back to Laurel. With a loud sigh, he dropped his pack on the wooden floor and began rifling through it. “Here it is. Now if you’d just tell me what this is all about—”

  “May I see it?” Laurel took the book from him. She opened it, expecting to see the same jagged edge she’d stumbled upon yesterday. Yet much to her amazement, it was gone. The only thing the least bit unusual about the book was a single even edge, about a half-inch wide, that stuck out near the binding. It was clear that a page had been ripped out—but whatever telltale signs had been left behind had been trimmed with a razor.

  “But—but I thought ... yesterday, in your office....” Desperately Laurel looked at Russ. He was wearing a look of confusion that echoed what she was feeling.

  Dr. Wells was frowning. “Laurel, Russ, I think you need to go back to the beginning and tell me what this is all about.”

  She could feel her face turning red. “There has to be some explanation.”

  “There is,” a male voice suddenly boomed. “A perfectly good explanation.”

  She whirled around. Looming in the doorway was Jim Whitehorse. In his hand was a large manila envelope.

  “Whitehorse!” Ben Seeger said. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to hear what these two had to say. And to realize that it’s time for my long silence to end.”

  “Keep out of this, Whitehorse,” Ben said. “None of this is your concern!”

  “As a matter of fact, it’s very much my concern.” Jim Whitehorse’s cold gaze rested on Ben for a long time before he turned his attention to the others. “Dr. Wells, what Laurel and Russ thought they figured out yesterday happens to be one hundred percent true. Maybe they can’t prove it ... but I can.”

  Dr. Wells looked astonished. “Surely you’re not saying you think Ben is responsible for the bear poachings!”

  “I’m afraid our state official here has discovered there’s more money to be made by breaking the laws then by upholding them.”

  The tall man spoke in a low, even voice. “Over the past six or eight months, Ben has been regularly leading visitors to the Kenai out on adventurous expeditions. He guarantees them a front-row seat in a bear-hunting expedition—one that just happens to be illegal. He gets the opportunity to make a great deal of money. The tourists, meanwhile, get the thrill of watching an ‘expert’—an expert who deftly chases and herds bears. They even get to bring home a claw as a souvenir. It makes a lovely paperweight, a real conversation piece. Of course, some people prefer to wear them around their necks, on a chain. Kind of like a trophy.

  “Yes, Mr. Seeger here had a nice little sideline going. And carrying it off was simple. He had access to the planes, no one looking over his shoulder.... As for the tourists, they had a grand time. There was only one rule: no photographs. Fortunately, that rule doesn’t apply to those of us who only hunt bears according to the rules.”

  Ben Seeger looked as if he were going to burst. “Why, you.... Lies! These are all lies, I tell you!”

  Dr. Wells held up his hand for silence. “Let him speak.”

  Jim Whitehorse glared at Ben before going on. “Three or four months ago, when I first discovered that Ben was padding his own pockets by taking tourists on these little hunting trips, I confronted him. He tried to blackmail me, saying that if I didn’t keep my mouth shut, he’d find a way to pin the poachings on me.

  “A threat like that was something to think about. After all, I don’t have the political connections this man has. I’m not pals with the local police, the way he is. If it ever came down to my word against his, there’d be no contest.”

  Jim shook his head slowly. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been wrestling with this problem for a long time. I’m a man who likes to keep to himself. I’m happy having as little to do with the outside world—especially the government—as possible.

  “But I can’t keep silent any longer. I’ve been having a hard enough time living with myself. I find my happiness living off this land, just like the bears and the other animals around Wolf Lake. If they aren’t safe here, then neither am I.”

  “So you were right,” Dr. Wells said to Laurel and Russ. “This little investigation of yours really did lead you to the guilty party.”

  Jim nodded in their direction. “These two did a fine job. In fact, knowing that these kids were willing to invest their time and energy trying to get to the bottom of this dirty little mystery was a big factor in helping me decide to come forward with the truth. Frankly, I was kind of worried about what might happen to them. Ben knew they were sniffing around, trying to come up with some answers. He saw them that day they came to my cabin. He was there, looking for me. He’d come around every now and then to make sure I wasn’t getting any funny ideas. I guess that’s the day he left them that note.”

  “Yes,” said Laurel, nodding. “That’s exactly when we found it.”

  Jim Whitehorse held out the envelope. “These photographs are all you’ll need. Just hand them over to th
e authorities; they’ll know what to do.”

  Before pressing the envelope into Dr. Wells’s hand, he added, “I know Ben’s a friend of yours. I’m sure you must feel torn over this. But I hope that, in the end, you’ll do what’s right.”

  Slowly Dr. Wells opened the envelope. His expression grew stricken as he looked through the black-and-white photographs. The one that Laurel glanced at was a picture of two planes, flying low to the ground. Not far below them was a bear. A man was leaning out of one of the planes with a hunting rifle pointed at the bear. And the identity of the man was unmistakable.

  He slid the photos back into the envelope, then cast a questioning look at his old friend. Ben Seeger, in turn, was unable to meet his gaze.

  “Yes,” Dr. Wells said simply. “I have no choice but to do what’s right.”

  He glanced first at Laurel, then at Russ. He said nothing, but his eyes were filled with sadness.

  * * * *

  The next morning, an air of lethargy hung about the cabin. Dr. Wells left the lake early, not even taking the time for breakfast. Mariah sat on the front porch, distractedly massaging her sore ankle as she watched him climb into the Jeep. She was struck by the slump of his shoulders and his look of grim determination as he headed into Anchorage to do a job he was hardly looking forward to, yet knew had to be done.

  She gradually became aware that she wasn’t the only one watching his departure. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Laurel stood right behind her. She was leaning in the doorway and shielding her eyes against the sun, pale and round as it hovered low in the gray-blue sky.

  “You know,” Laurel mused, “when I opened that notebook and saw that the jagged edge was gone, I was almost relieved. My first thought was that I’d been wrong, that Mr. Seeger really didn’t have anything to do with the bear poachings.”

  “Jim Whitehorse took care of any doubts you may have had,” said Mariah. “Those photographs of his made it clear that Seeger was taking would-be hunters for joyrides. I can’t believe we all misjudged him so badly. I know Trip and the others feel just as betrayed as I do—not to mention Dr. Wells.