Part 8
In the morning Mason went to Mara’s store for the bread he had never bought.
Conversation thinned when he entered. Mara put a loaf on the counter and began to say it was on the house. Mason laid down his money. “Let me pay for it.”
She accepted the bill. “I’m sorry I refused you,” she said. “I was afraid and wanted somebody to blame.” Mason could understand the fear without pretending the refusal had not hurt. He thanked her for saying it. Mr. Bell stood by the window with his cane and apologized for telling people Mason had chosen a bear over their children. Cal and June came in as Mason was leaving. Cal had heard that Dean and the others were being held while officers investigated the camp. He did not suddenly declare the woods safe. He asked where people should call if they saw fresh bear tracks near a house. Mason gave him the Fish and Game office number and said to keep food and trash secure, stay clear of the animal, and let the officers assess any danger. Cal wrote the number on the back of a receipt.
June asked whether the children could walk the road again. Mason showed her the north ridge on his map and explained that the latest tracks were moving away from town; a fresh sighting would change the picture. “I can’t give you a guarantee,” he said. “I can tell you what I saw and what to do next.” June folded the receipt with the number and tucked it into her pocket. She had been right to worry about her son, and Mason had been right to question the men who promised an easy solution. Neither needed the other to admit defeat before the children could go to school.
Ellen waited outside under the awning. She had driven Ruth to the highway junction, but did not want thanks for that alone. “I told my class why I changed my mind about what I saw,” she said. “At first I thought the bear leaving you meant there was no danger. Then I watched those men with the guns. I should have said exactly what I knew, no more and no less.”
“That’s what you did at the meeting.”
“Eventually.” She smiled at him. “I might make them map the creek. They think the whole world begins at the school door.” Mason pictured the route, the broken ice, and the stand of trees where she had watched from a safe bank. The place had changed the town without moving an inch.
Janice called later that afternoon. The officers had documented the camp and the elk remains. Dean and the others would face a formal investigation into the hunting and the threats; Seth’s supervisor had opened a separate inquiry into his conduct. There was no final verdict yet. Janice had also followed the bear’s tracks far enough to see that it had crossed the north ridge toward denning country. She would not pursue a wounded animal merely to give Mason a reassuring story. If it appeared near people, the department would respond.
Mason put down the phone and told Ruth what Janice had said, including what she could not say. Ruth listened while she sliced potatoes for dinner. “You did everything you could,” she told him. He thought about the ice, the clearing, the ravine, and the men who had still been free between those places. “I kept going back because I didn’t know when I was done,” he said. Ruth set the knife down. “Then let the people whose job it is carry this part,” she replied. He did not like the limits of that answer. It was probably why he needed to hear it.
Leah called that evening after Ruth told her what had happened. Owen was listening on speakerphone and wanted to know whether Grandpa had actually seen a bear close enough to count its claws. Mason said he had been close enough to understand why that was a poor idea. Leah waited until Owen wandered off, then said, “Mom tells me you two have been talking.”
“We’re trying.”
Mason asked about the birdhouse Owen had made. Leah sounded surprised he remembered it. “It’s still on the porch,” she said. “One side is crooked, but the chickadees don’t care.” Mason said he wanted to see it. The boy returned to the call and wanted to know if they could take a walk together somewhere bears were unlikely to be. Mason suggested the city park near Leah’s house. Owen considered this carefully and approved. Ruth laughed, and Mason heard how much he had missed that sound during the months when they had shared a roof and little else.
“Come to Boise for a week. We can talk here, too. Owen has been saving a drawing of the woods for you since summer.” Mason looked at Ruth. The drive and the time away had once seemed like an impossible concession. He asked Leah which week worked best. Ruth reached across the table and rested her hand on his.
The first thaw arrived months later.
By then Mason and Ruth had made the visit and were planning another. They had not decided whether Alder Creek would always be home; they had learned to say what each of them hoped before the other had to guess. The investigation had moved at its own pace. Mason answered questions when the officers needed him and kept his walks to the trails he knew.
Before he set out, Ruth had left a note beside the two white mugs: Call Leah after supper. Bring back the trail map; Owen wants to see it. Mason slipped the note into his coat. He passed the old dairy farm, where spring grass hid the marks that had frightened everyone in winter. A sound in the brush made him stop and give the undergrowth room. Years of work had taught him how often patience was the useful action. He went on only when the branches were still. The snowmelt had brought the creek up, and he could hear it from farther away than in November.
At the backwater where he had broken the ice, the creek ran open between green banks. Across a clearing, a black bear stood in the sun. A pale seam showed through the new fur at its shoulder. Mason could not prove it was the same animal by that mark alone, but he knew the size and the old hitch in its step. It stood for a moment with its nose to the air, then turned into the trees. Mason remained still until he could no longer hear it.
He had once imagined that saving a life would settle the question of what he owed the forest. Instead it had made him answer harder questions at home and in town. He turned toward the house. Through the branches he could see smoke from the chimney and Ruth’s truck in the drive. She had said they should call Leah tonight to choose a date for the next visit. Mason walked on, already thinking of what he wanted to tell them.