Pathways (9780307822208) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Bryn. “Must be Pete Bailey’s girl. Spittin’ image.”
    “I am.” She reached out her hand. “Bryn. Bryn Bailey.”
    “Ben White,” he said with a friendly nod. He was a short man, perhaps four inches shorter than Bryn, but compact and strong. About seventy years old. He was dressed in an old plaid shirt that had probably seen a decade of wear and jeans that had holes at the knees. But they were clean.
    It was his eyes, kind and sagelike, that drew Bryn’s gaze. “Come on up and share a cup of tea with me,” he invited.
    “That would be great, Ben,” Eli said. He and Bryn moved forward, and Eli’s hand moved to the small of her back, a polite gesture of pure masculinity. Women didn’t go around touching each other there. She found herself wishing he wouldn’t let it drop away. It was warm and comforting somehow. Oddly intimate.
    “Have any bear cubs?” Eli asked Ben as they entered the house. The walls were plastered, making it lighter and brighter than the Baileys’ cabin, and the floors were of wide, clear pine planks. She and her father had been debating the possibility of flooring their own cabin.
    “Don’t have any bears now. Those I went to see were dead before we could reach them. The guys down at Fish and Game tell me they’re hoping to bring a couple by next week. Guess I’ll be back to nursing a new set along.”
    “How many have you ‘fathered’?” Bryn asked.
    “Couple of twins. Several lone cubs.” He set the pot on the stove, lit a match, and cranked the dial. A propane tank must be nearby, she surmised. He turned and reached for a few mugs from hooks and several boxes of tea, then set them on the table before her and Eli. “It’s acrazy thing to do, but I enjoy it. Without me, those little critters would die. And there’s a place on God’s green earth for every one of them.”
    Bryn bristled at his mention of God. She remembered her dad’s warning about Ben White, and she wondered if she would get the religious fanatic spiel now.
    “Had a couple of problems with one young male,” he continued. “He’s wandered on over to Talkeetna and is liking the garbage smorgasbord rather than hunting. I have to figure out a way to get them used to hunting younger, so it’s not such a shock. My females have done well, but this male—”
    “How do you know he’s yours?”
    “Part of my deal with Fish and Game. I radio-collar them all. University tracks them for me. My job is to raise them up as a bear mother would. Wrestle with them. Take them out on walks. Show them how to dig for a spring covered with foliage or grub under a log, that sort of thing.”
    “How’d you get into it in the first place?” Bryn asked.
    “Father was a vet and always fostering wounded or abandoned wildlife in New Hampshire. An owl with a wounded wing. A falcon. Ferrets. Anything you can name. We had a couple of bears when I was growing up. People brought him animals from all over the Lower 48. It became the family business.” The teapot whistled, and he turned to take it from the stove and pour each a steaming mug. “Enough about me. How do you find Summit this year, Bryn? I wasn’t around the last two times you visited. But I well remember the year you two were ten or eleven. Inseparable, you were.”
    She could feel the heat of Eli’s embarrassment, but she concentrated on Ben. “It’s pretty here. But a little … far away from everything for my taste.”
    Ben sat down and looked at her from over the rim of his mug. “Takes awhile. You’ll see it eventually—what brings your father here.”
    “Besides a break from my mother?” It was out before she realized what she was saying, but there was something about Ben that invited confidences. His open kindness, lack of judgment.
    He smiled and nodded, seeming to sense that now was not the right time for eye contact. “Alaska calls a body home. Your father’s got it in his blood. I’d wager you’ll soon have it in yours as well. Once