Bear of a Honeymoon Page 10

  "Brooke," I said, deliberately breaking into her reverie and explaining my train of thought. "Have you ever had trouble with your booking system before?"

  "Not at all. We installed the computer program two years ago and it's worked like a charm ever since."

  "Who has access to it?"

  "Lots of people. Our system is actually a group of PC's connected in a network. The bar and restaurant have separate units and there are one each at reception and in the office. Everything's in it, bookings, inventory, sales. Practically all the inside staff have reason to use it at one time or another. Even Claire, she uses the one in the office for schoolwork."

  Great. If somebody wanted to sabotage a day's bookings, it sure wouldn't be much of a trick. "What about Reno," I asked. "Who could have rigged that booby trap in the stable?"

  Brooke shook her head. "Sorry, Taylor. The answer's the same. Rachel loves horses and goes riding whenever she can. And, of course Shane works up there when he's not needed at the lodge. But everybody goes to visit Molly and her foal, even the cooks. Who can resist a baby?"

  Brooke was right. The field was broad. But apart from the family, only one other name seemed to overlap incidents. Rachel's job involved the computer system and she was a regular at the stable. Add that to her apparent connection with Max Edelman and wheels did start to turn.

  Was it too far-fetched to believe that Edelman, knowing the Craddock's precarious financial position, had deliberately sabotaged the travel agents' visit? With the lodge critically dependent on the coming season's success, any hiccup could land them in serious hot water. How badly did Edelman want to get his hands on this property?

  For the moment there were no answers, only more questions. I kept the suspicion to myself, but my friends needed help and now there was somewhere to start.

  "Come on," I said, eager to bounce my ideas off Matt. "It's time to move Nell and the Dudster into their new quarters."

  "What's the hurry," Brooke teased. "Can't wait to hole up with that hunk you lassoed?"

  I shot her a suitably withering glance and headed for the lodge. She knew me too well.

  Chapter Eleven

  Only the cats and their paraphernalia remained to be transferred by the time I reconnected with Matt. As promised, Shane had moved the rest. We decided on lunch before the final assault. With the travel agents gone and a four-day hiatus until the next major onslaught, Brooke was free to join us and I was grateful that Matt was finally able to get to know my friend.

  He had the sense not to dwell on the focus of his morning's activity, mentioning only briefly that Reno was vastly improved. The swelling had nearly gone. And Brooke seemed genuinely pleased. She made a special effort throughout the meal, deploying her disarming smile and clever wit to great effect. Clearly impressed, Matt responded in kind and I breathed an internal sigh of relief. It was an important step in the integration of my two lives, the old and the new. I only wished Dan could share in the entente cordiale. Still, there was time.

  When Brooke offered to help relocate our feline roommates, assurances that we could manage on our own produced only a sly wink. She received a regal glower in response and we parted company in high spirits. Dudley made no objection to sharing his cat-carrier with Nell. Settling himself like a curled shrimp, he waited for her to take her place. She did so with some hesitation, pausing for a thorough inspection of the entrance, small pink nose exploring the perimeter with care. But his presence was reassuring and she finally tiptoed into the plastic box, circled in a tight one-eighty, and came to rest against his ample belly.

  There they rode, like a pair of oriental potentates, with Matt playing the role of chief bearer. I followed humbly in their wake, like a heavily laden baggage train, carrying such essentials as dishes, cat litter, and food. The journey was mercifully short, and we were soon unloading in Arbutus cabin.

  The interior was as friendly and welcoming as the wide front porch. We entered a high-ceilinged living area, complete with stone fireplace and kitchenette, lined in natural-toned cedar. Brooke's sense of style was evident in every touch from the deep cushioned chairs to the simple plaid curtains pulled aside to reveal a postcard view of lake and mountain. In the bedroom, we found a four-poster king, in beetle-kill pine, topped by a hand-stitched quilt in shades of green and yellow. And beyond the normal amenities, the adjoining bath contained a Jacuzzi for two. If each of the other cabins were as lavishly appointed, I could well understand Brooke's concern for a bumper summer season. An investment like this would take a while to recoup.

  Once the cats were settled and our gear safely stowed, Matt and I felt constrained to sample the aforementioned amenities. My stomach was already announcing the supper hour when we completed the tour. And we agreed that Arbutus cabin was the ideal honeymoon retreat.

  We enjoyed an early dinner, accompanied by the Fisks, whose day on the links had proven completely satisfactory. When the foursome broke up, Matt and I decided on an expedition to the boathouse. He claimed some skill with a pair of oars and I definitely fancied a romantic sunset on the lake. But Rachel waylaid us in the lobby, presenting me with a courier package from my boss. In the cover note, Ben enthused over the story prospect and, in a hasty PS, reminded me to enjoy my honeymoon. Obviously, his priorities were as mixed up as mine. Happily, Matt took it all in stride. He did, however, suggest the package remain at the desk until we returned from our boat ride.

  We were finally on our way out the door when my goddaughter came charging up. "Hi, Auntie Tee, Matt," she bubbled, skidding to a stop when she saw us. "I hoped you'd be here. Lyle's taking Lynette and me for a sunset ride and campfire. You want to come? It's so-o-o much fun." Round blue eyes darted from Matt's face to mine and her voice was filled with pleading.

  A quick glance confirmed my suspicion that Matt was all too keen. With the true zealotry of a new convert, he had embraced all activities equine. Clearly a rowboat couldn't match a creaking saddle.

  "What about school tomorrow?" I demanded, grasping at the proverbial straw. "Should you be out that late?"

  "Teacher's PD day," she replied, as though that explained anything. I threw her a questioning look. "Professional Development," she clarified. "We get the day off."

  "Oh." I took one last look at Matt's puppy dog expression and caved in. "Sure," I said, with feigned enthusiasm. "Why not?"

  We agreed to change clothes and meet at the stable, pronto. When we arrived, Lyle and the girls stood waiting beside a string of saddled mounts. I was installed on a buckskin giant named Jake, who everyone assured me was the gentlest horse in the place. Soon I willingly conceded the point. He dutifully kept station in the trail-parade, a metre behind Lyle's big black, with virtually no direction from me. Matt came next, with Lynette and Claire bringing up the rear.

  "Isn't this great?" Matt called. I twisted in my saddle and took pleasure in the sight of his silly grin.

  "Sure is," I had to admit. The chill grew sharper as old Sol descended at our backs, the light rapidly fading to warm amber. A steady rhythm of clomping hooves marked our passage, and pine hung heavy in the air. Real pine, totally unlike the pungent blast of floor cleaners and air fresheners of the same name.

  Only dim twilight remained by the time we reached the firepit clearing and I wondered about the wisdom of a return journey in the dark. But everyone else seemed unconcerned and I knew Lyle to be an expert woodsman. I resolutely pushed my concerns aside and entered wholeheartedly into the campfire spirit.

  In no time, our guide had a blaze of worthy proportions dancing within the circle of stones. We lounged on blankets drawn close and stared into mesmerising flames. Nothing forgotten, Claire produced a bag of marshmallows and Lyle whittled us each a stick for toasting.

  It was interesting to discover that Matt was a golden-toaster, patiently rotating his marshmallow just near enough the fire to produce a masterpiece, evenly browned on the outside, invitingly gooey within. I have no such patience. In the world of marshmallow chefs, I'm a flamer
. Poke it in the fire until you have a torch. Blow it out and down the hatch. I figure it's the same principle as Cajun blackened catfish. You need a little burn for flavour.

  Lyle didn't join in, contenting himself with tending the fire. But the girls were having a ball. Awash in fits of giggles, they skewered one hapless white pillow after another and jabbed it into the flames. They favoured my culinary technique. But Matt was undaunted and continued his meticulous efforts until the supply was exhausted.

  "What's a good song?" he asked, laying his skewer aside.

  "This Land," Claire piped up promptly.

  "So it is," Matt agreed, and launched into the first verse with a very creditable baritone.

  You can sing, I thought, as another tiny piece of the puzzle dropped into place.

  He looked surprised when the girls and I sang out the Canadian refrain. But my American husband took it in stride and by the third verse, was right there with us, substituting Bonavista for California and Vancouver for the New York island.

  He led the girls through the full repertoire of silly songs, then slowed the pace to a string of familiar ballads. We sounded good together. Matt carried the melody and I harmonised in the standard places. Cosily propped against his ample chest and warmed by his encircling arms, we basked together in the radiant glow. And when the last of Puff the Magic Dragon drifted into the night, we all fell silent as if by mutual pact.

  It was Claire who roused us from our private thoughts. "Tell a story Lyle. The one about Sdipp-shin-mah and the bear."

  Intrigued, we shifted our gaze to the big man's face, like burnished copper in the dancing light. With careful deliberation, he settled another log on the fire, poking and rearranging until some internal standard of incendiary perfection was met. Lyle did everything in slow motion—cautiously, correctly. He began to speak in measured tones.

  "This is the story of Sdipp-shin-mah. She was a woman of great powers, whose powers came from her spirit helper, Bear. First, she told this story of finding her spirit helper. Now our elders pass it on."

  Enthralled by the rhythm of his voice and the allure of a ghostly tale, I was practically holding my breath, eager to hear.

  "When I was a girl of six or seven winters," he began, speaking in the voice of Sdipp-shin-mah, "my mother told me we would go to pick berries in the mountains. We went high into the mountains, riding double on her horse. It was getting late. I saw some bushes. I said to my mother, 'Look, there are some berries and plenty of them.'

  "She said, 'Have patience, child. A little further up is the place we will get our berries.'

  "So on and on we went. The sun was going down when we came to the place. 'Here is where we are going to pick.'

  "She put me off the horse and got down also. She picked some berries and put some on the ground for me, saying, 'Sit here and eat on these berries while I go down here to see if there are more below.'

  "She spread my robe on the ground and I sat on it and ate berries. She got on her horse and told me to stay where I was. She would be back soon. She left and I could not see her any more. I was not afraid. I ate berries and talked to myself about the trees. Then night came. My mother was not back. I got frightened. I called for her. I called for my mother. But she did not come. I started to cry and still I called. I did not know what to do. I just cried and cried and called for my mother all night. But it did no good. She had left me. She had gone home and left me in the high mountains, all alone.

  "When my tears were all gone, I took up my robe and began to walk. I did not know where I was going. And it was dark. I walked and walked until I got tired and very sleepy. Then I lay down. I slept until the sun was way up. It was nice and warm. But then I remembered. I was all alone in the high mountains. I started to cry again. When I stopped, I walked and ate the berries growing all around. I walked until I came to a deep gulch all covered with trees. I sat down and thought of my home and my mother. Then I heard a sound I thought was human voices. I listened carefully. But there was nothing and I thought it must have been a bird or something. Then it came again and I knew it was people laughing and talking way down at the bottom of the gulch. The trees hid them from me, but I could tell they were coming my way.

  "Just below the ridge where I was sitting was an open place. The sound came from that way. Then I was surprised and so happy to see a woman and two little ones. I thought they were from my tribe. They were laughing and shouting and running and chasing each other. They came close and I saw the woman was a very handsome woman. She was clothed in buckskin. The children were also dressed all in buckskin. One was a boy. One was a girl.

  "The woman said to me, 'Poor child. You should not be alone in this place. I'm sure you are thirsty. Come, we will bring you down to the stream to drink.' Then she told her children, 'Do not bother your little sister. She is tired and thirsty.'

  "While we were going to drink, the children were playing and laughing. They tried to get me to play with them. But she always told them, 'Leave her alone. Your little sister is tired.'

  "When we got to the stream, we all had a good drink. I was very thirsty and last to finish and when I looked up, instead of seeing my little sister and brother and mother, there was sitting a bear and two cubs. I was afraid. The bear spoke. 'Do not be afraid, little one. I am your mother bear and here is your sister and brother. We will not hurt you.'

  "Then she told me this: 'Listen carefully. I am going to give you medicine power. In the future, you will be a great help to your people. This time will come when you have passed middle age. But do not try to do more than I allow or grant you. Otherwise it will be false and you will be responsible for sufferings and even death. One of my gifts is that you will be a help to women, especially those who are suffering and having a hard time giving the birth of a child.' She said this. Then the bear and her cubs took me home to my people."

  The storyteller's words faded into the firelit circle. Nobody moved. So complete was mother bear's spell that even the exuberant girls sat motionless and silent. Obviously, they knew and loved the story, treating it with reverence. It was Lyle who brought us back to the digital age.

  "This was always my favourite story," he said, pensively. "I never heard it from Sdipp-shin-mah. But my grandmother told it and now my mother. She had gone to join the spirits before I was born. But my grandmother told it and now my mother."

  "Did the bear's prophecy come to pass?" I asked with genuine interest.

  "Oh yes," said Lyle. "Sdipp-shin-mah was a powerful helper. All the women sought her out, even when she was very old."

  "Was she a shaman?" Matt asked, drawing me aside to avoid a puff of smoke driven our way on a fluky air current.

  "No. The guardian spirit is not as strong. Few have the power of a shaman. Anyone can get a guardian spirit."

  "How?"

  "Sometimes the spirit just comes in a dream. But mostly you must seek it out. You must make a vision quest."

  I couldn't see Matt's face, but he must have looked as quizzical as I'm sure I did, because Lyle went on to explain.

  "After purifying, an elder takes you to a secluded place, like a high mountain. There you fast. After some days, if you are lucky, the spirit comes in a vision and grants your special power."

  "What sort of power?"

  "That depends. The she-bear gave Sdipp-shin-mah power to help women. Another might be given prowess as a hunter or warrior."

  "Is the guardian spirit always Bear?"

  "No. But among my people, Bear is most sought after. Before the Europeans came, when my people lived from the land by hunting and gathering, Bear was very special. When he was killed, it was a time of reverence and celebration."

  Claire piped up, eager to make a contribution to our growing knowledge. "The lodge sits right on their ceremonial ground," she said. Lyle nodded, giving his young charge an affectionate look—almost a smile. Encouraged, Claire plunged on.

  "Long ago, Lyle's people came to Bear Creek every fall to fish for salmon. That's the creek
that runs into the lake by the boathouse," she explained for Matt's benefit. "Since the bears like salmon too, they also came fishing and sometimes one could be killed. Then there'd be a big party."

  "It was a kind of thanksgiving, with dancing and games, and feasting. All in celebration of the earth's bounty." Lyle's gaze was fixed on the fire, but his far-off tone suggested that he saw much beyond the flames. And it left me troubled.

  He and Dan might be business partners, but there was a deep-seated spirituality in this man, an unshakable connection with his roots. How much did he resent the presence of the settlers' vacation spot on land that held such meaning for his people?

  I stared into the flames myself, suddenly chilled. Enough to sabotage a friend?

  Chapter Twelve

  Pearly moonlight bathed the forest night, hurling grotesque shadows in our path as we proceeded in single file. My own thoughts whirled with wild speculation and possibly baseless suspicion. I wondered what occupied the minds of my silent companions. Did Lyle, slouched low in the saddle, yet swaying in perfect harmony with his mount, brood on the ghost of Sdipp-shin-mah and her spirit guide? And what of the girls, their exuberant chatter now faded into memory? Did Claire fret about her parents' bickering? Lynette worry over her mother's illness? And Matt, were his musings as dark as I imagined the others to be? With him I never knew. Couldn't even guess.

  It was hard to believe that only twenty-four hours had passed since that ghostly ride. There was the same moon, determinedly climbing the night sky. It moved much faster than I ever imagined, never really having studied it before. But huddled here on my narrow perch, with little else to distract an energetic mind, there was loads of time for thorough research.

  The vivid ebony backdrop of space was more intensely black than anything I'd known before. And the pinpoints of starlight dazzled by comparison. Of course, my location was responsible for this impression. Here in the forest, there were no streetlights, no blazing office towers, no other sources of illumination. There was nothing to detract from the brilliance of the heavens, the stark contrast between black emptiness and fiery light.