Beth Carpenter - Alaskan Hideaway

* * *

URSULA DROPPED A birthday card for a friend in her mailbox and put up the flag before heading out to Anchorage to stock up on essentials and visit her adorable grandson. She pulled onto the highway and headed toward the turnoff to Mac’s cabin. Should she stop and offer to pick up anything he needed in Anchorage? She’d always collected Betty’s prescriptions for her. It would be the neighborly thing to do.

But who was she kidding? Mac was perfectly capable of running his own errands, and judging by the lean muscles of his forearms, healthy and fit. He said he’d once been a cowboy, and she could picture it. As they’d talked yesterday and he’d started to relax, a hint of Oklahoma drawl crept into his speech. Now, she was hoping for another chance to talk with him, and not about selling her the property or allowing the trail to cut through. She’d seen the pain in his eyes when he talked about his daughter.

The man was suffering. And she suspected it wasn’t just the pain of loss. She’d been there, when Tommy died. She knew how hard it was to go on while missing someone you loved. But there was something else going on inside his head, and she was afraid she recognized it. His eyes held the same haunted look as her father’s had after her little brother died. That look had never gone away.

She slowed, debating whether to check on him. But Mac was clear. He was after solitude. She had no right to badger him while he grieved. If he wanted to be alone with his daughter’s dog, she wouldn’t bother him.

The sound of frantic barking changed her mind. Blossom was at the fence line near the road, dashing forward and jumping back. She seemed to have some sort of animal cornered. Ursula pulled her car over and jumped out, running along the driveway and slipping through the gate for a closer look. A bald eagle had somehow gotten a wing caught in the fence. Blossom jumped back, a trickle of blood running from her nose. Those talons could be lethal.

The eagle screeched. Ursula plunged into the snow and struggled toward the fence. “Blossom. Come.”

The dog looked toward her but didn’t seem inclined to leave the fight. Ursula stopped and used her most commanding voice. “Come. Now.”

From the corner of her eye, Ursula saw Mac running toward them, but she kept her gaze on Blossom. With one last defiant bark in the direction of the eagle, the pit bull bounded through the snow to Ursula. “Good girl.” Ursula grabbed her collar and bent to inspect her nose.

“What’s going on?” Mac pushed his way through the snow toward them.

“Blossom was in an altercation with an eagle.”

“Eagle?” Mac caught up with Ursula. “Is everybody all right?” He peered toward the fence.

“Blossom has a nasty scratch on her muzzle, but she’ll be okay. Judging by the way the eagle is holding his wing, it’s broken.”

“Oh, no.” Mac’s eyebrows knit together. “Can it live like that? Or would it be kinder just to...”

“I’m on my way to Anchorage. If we can get it out of the fence, I can take it to the bird rescue center there.”

“There’s a bird rescue in Anchorage? That’s great.” He reached for Blossom’s collar. “Let me lock up the dog, and I’ll be right back.”

“Bring wire cutters. There should be some in the tool chest under the bench seat in the kitchen. And a heavy blanket or rug. When animals are hurt, they sometimes lash out at people who are trying to help them.”

Mac gave her an odd look but obeyed. A few minutes later, he returned with the things she’d asked for, plus a large dog kennel. “I thought you could transport it in this.”

“Good idea.” She studied the bird, who stared back, unblinking. When she took a step closer, the eagle gave a jerk but couldn’t seem to get loose from the fence. “Do you think you can throw the blanket over it and hold it still while I cut the wire?”

Mac nodded. “I think so. Here, I brought us both leather gloves. Why don’t you try to distract it from the right, and I’ll approach from the left?”

The distraction plan was only marginally effective, but after three tries, Mac was able to throw the blanket over it and hug the bird so that it couldn’t get its beak or talons loose to fight them. Ursula went to work, cutting the thick wires that formed the fence.

“I’ve dealt with a few animals tangled in fences on the ranch, but a bald eagle is a first for me.” The bird struggled, but Mac managed to maintain his hold. “How do you think it happened?”

“Some of these wires are rusted. I suspect a rabbit or something ran through this break in the fence to get away from the eagle. He must have hit it pretty hard.” Ursula cut the last wire.

The eagle flapped the now freed wing awkwardly at Mac’s face, but he hung on. “Can you open the kennel?”

Ursula unlatched the kennel door, and together they shoved the bird inside, blanket and all. Ursula latched the door shut. The eagle shook the blanket off and glared at them. Mac lifted the kennel, carefully avoiding putting his hands too close to any airholes, and carried it to Ursula’s Subaru. She opened the back, and he slid the kennel inside.

He turned to face her. “Thank you. Blossom could have been hurt a lot worse if you hadn’t stopped.”

“No problem. I think she’ll be fine, but if you want to have her checked out, there’s a vet in Seward.”

“I will if I think she needs it. I hope the eagle will be okay.”

“Me, too. I’ll let you know.”

* * *

THE SCRATCH ON Blossom’s muzzle wasn’t too bad. Mac had just finished cleaning it, despite Blossom’s protests, when the internet installer arrived. While Mac had waited for him to finish, he’d gotten caught up in a book on the history of the Alaska gold rush he found on the living room shelf. He didn’t remember about the groceries until later that afternoon, so he locked Blossom in the cabin and drove into Seward.

He returned to find the empty dog kennel in his driveway. A roll of lamb wire rested beside it. That was nice of Ursula. He hadn’t even thought about how he was going to repair the fence. Funny, back when he was a kid on the ranch, one of the constant chores was working on fences. Life seemed to have come full circle.

Once he had the groceries put away, he’d give Ursula a call to find out what the rescue people said about the eagle. He opened the liftgate and reached to load the kennel. A note was taped to the top. I have your dog. —Ursula.

What? He’d left Blossom in the house. He drove the rest of the way down the driveway and unlocked the front door. No nails clicked across the floor to greet him. The back door was also locked. The windows were closed—it was winter after all. So how did Blossom get out?

The key. That was the only answer. Ursula had known exactly where he would find a toolbox containing wire cutters. He hadn’t even realized the built-in bench lifted up, much less that there was a toolbox underneath. She was obviously friends with the woman who had owned the place before him. Ergo, she would have a key.

But why would Ursula take Blossom? It wasn’t as though he’d neglected her. He was only gone an hour or so. Ursula had to know he’d never let anything happen to Andi’s dog.

Maybe that’s what she was counting on. She’d fed him muffins and listened to him talk the other morning to get him to trust her. She’d helped with the eagle and even brought him wire to repair the fence. Now she was going to “rescue” the dog, because she knew Blossom was important to him. And he would be so grateful, he’d give her access to the trails, or maybe even sell her the property. Classic manipulation.