He’d seen enough of her. Too much for his well-being. Having her standing in the middle of his kitchen, a place he’d never figured she would be, was sending crazy thoughts through his head. Like how good she looked in that particular spot. A spot where Kalyn had never stood. In fact, his wife had refused to come to Kodiak. She hadn’t wanted to visit the place where he was born. Had referred to it as untamed wilderness that lacked civilization. She hadn’t wanted to visit such a remote area, much less live there. She was a California girl through and through. She’d lived for the beaches, the orange groves and Hollywood. Anything else just didn’t compute with her.
“What are you cooking? Smells good.”
He inwardly smiled, although he didn’t want to. Was that her way of letting him know she was hungry? “Bison stew. My grandmother’s recipe,” he said over his shoulder.
“No wonder it smells good, then.”
Now, aren’t you full of compliments, he thought sarcastically, knowing she was probably trying to be nice for a reason. But he wasn’t buying it, because he knew her motives. “By the time you wash up I’ll have dinner on the table.”
“I’ve washed up and I can help. Thanks to Chloe I’m pretty good in the kitchen. Tell me what you need me to do.”
“Why Chloe?”
“In addition to all her other talents, she is a wonderful cook and often prepares breakfast for Ramsey and his men. Remind me to tell you one day how she and Ramsey met.”
He came close to saying that he wouldn’t be reminding her of anything, and he didn’t need her to do anything, unless she could find her way back to the airport. But he reined in his temper and said, “You can set the table. Everything you need is in that drawer over there.” He never ate at a set table but figured it would give her something to do so she wouldn’t get underfoot. Not that trying to put distance between them really mattered. Her scent had already downplayed the aroma of the stew.
The ringing of his cell phone on the kitchen counter jarred him out of his thoughts. He moved from the stove to pick it up, recognizing his foreman’s ringtone.
“Yes, Willie? What is it?”
“It’s Marcus, boss,” Willie said in a frantic tone. “A big brown’s got him pinned in a shack and nothing we can do will scare him off. We’ve been firing shots, but we haven’t managed a hit.”
“Damn. I’m on my way.”
Walker turned and quickly moved toward the closet where his parkas hung and his boots were stored. “Got to go,” he said quickly. “That was Willie Hines, my foreman. A brown bear has one of my men holed up in a shack and I need to get there fast.”
“May I go?”
He glanced over his shoulder to tell her no. Then he changed his mind. It probably had something to do with that pleading look on her face. “Yes, but stay out of the way. Grab your coat, hat and scarf. And be quick. My men are waiting.”
She moved swiftly and by the time he’d put on his boots she was back. He grabbed one of the rifles off the rack. When she reached up and grabbed a rifle off the rack as well, he stared at her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m not a bad shot. Maybe I can help.”
He doubted she could and just hoped she stayed out of the way, but he didn’t have time to argue. “Fine, let’s go.”
“I thought bears normally hibernated in the winter,” Bailey said, hanging on in the Jeep. Walker was driving like a madman and the seat belt was barely holding her in place. On top of that, her thick wool coat was nothing against the bone-chilling wind and the icy slivers of snow that had begun to fall.
“It’s not officially winter yet. Besides, this particular brown is probably the same one who’s been causing problems for the past year. Nothing he does is normal. There’s been a bounty on his head for a while now.”
Bailey nodded. Although bears were known to reside in the Rockies, they were seldom seen. She’d known of only one incident of a bear in Westmoreland Country. Dillon had called the authorities, who had captured the bear and set him free elsewhere. She then remembered what Walker had told her the first day they’d met. There were more bears than people living on Kodiak Island.
The Jeep came to a sudden stop in front of three men she figured worked for Walker. He was out of the truck in a flash and before she could unbuckle her seat belt, he snapped out an order. “Stay put, Bailey.”
She grudgingly did as she was told and watched him race toward the men. They pointed at the scene taking place a hundred or so feet ahead of them. The creature wasn’t what she’d expected of a brown bear. He was a huge grizzly tearing away at a small, dilapidated shack, pawing through timber, lumber and planks trying to get to the man trapped inside. Unless someone did something, it wouldn’t take long for the bear to succeed. And if anyone tried shooting the bear now, they would place the man inside the shack at risk.
She didn’t have to hear what Walker and his men were saying to know they were devising a plan to pull the bear’s attention away from the shack. And it didn’t take long to figure out that Walker had volunteered to be the bait. Putting his own life at risk.
She watched, horrified, as Walker raced forward to get the bear’s attention, coming to a stop at what seemed to be just a few feet from the animal. At first it seemed as if nothing could dissuade the bear. A few more loose timbers and he would get his prey. She could hear the man inside screaming in fright, begging for help before it was too late.
Walker then picked up a tree limb and hit the bear. That got the animal’s attention. Bailey held her breath when the bear turned and went charging after Walker. The plan was for Walker to lure the bear away from the shack so his men could get a good shot. It seemed the ploy was working until Walker lost his balance and fell to the ground.
Bailey was out of the Jeep in a flash, her rifle in her hand. She stood beside the men and raised her gun to take a shot.
“There’s no way you can hit that bear from here, lady,” one of the men said.
She ignored his words, knowing Walker would be mauled to death unless she did something. She pulled the trigger mere seconds before the bear reached Walker. The huge animal fell and it seemed the earth shook under the weight.
“Did you see that?”
“She got that grizzly and her rifle doesn’t even have a scope on it.”
“How can she shoot like that? Where did she come from?”
Ignoring what the three men were saying, she raced over to Walker. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just banged my leg against that damn rock when I tripped.”
Placing her rifle aside, she leaned down to check him over and saw the red bloodstain on the leg of his jeans. He wasn’t fine.
She turned to his men, who were looking at her strangely. “He’s injured. I need two of you to lift him and take him to the Jeep. The other one, I need to check on the man in the shack. I think he passed out.”
“I said I’m fine, Bailey, and I can walk,” Walker insisted.
“Not on that leg.” She turned to the men. “Lift him and take him to the truck,” she ordered again.
“Don’t anyone dare lift me. I said I can walk,” Walker snapped at the two men who moved toward him.
“No, you can’t walk,” she snapped back at him. She then glared at his men, who stood staring, unsure whose orders to follow. “Do it!” she demanded, letting them know she expected her order to be followed regardless of what Walker said.
As if they figured any woman who could shoot that well was a woman whose order should be obeyed, they quickly moved to lift Walker. He spewed expletives, which they all ignored.
“I’ll call Doc Witherspoon to come quick,” one of the men said after they placed Walker in the Jeep. “And we’ll be right behind you to help get him out once you reach the ranch house.”
She quickly got in on the driver’s side. “Thanks.”
She glanced over at Walker, who was now unconscious, and fought to keep her panic at bay. Of all the things she figured she’d have to deal with upon reaching Alaska, killing a grizzly bear hadn’t been one of them.
Eight
Walker came awake, then reclosed his eyes when pain shot up his leg. It took him a while before he reopened them. When he did, he noted that he was in his bed and flat on his back. It didn’t take him long to recall why. The grizzly.
“Bailey?” he called out softly when he heard a sound from somewhere in the room.
“She’s not here, Walker,” a deep masculine voice said.
He didn’t have to wonder who that voice belonged to. “Doc Witherspoon?”
“Who else? I only get to see you these days when you get banged up.”
Walker shook his head, disagreeing. “I never get banged up.”
“You did this time. Story has it that bear would have eaten you alive if that little lady hadn’t saved you.”
The doctor’s words suddenly made Walker remember what he’d said earlier. “Bailey’s not here? Where is she?”
“She left for the airport.”
Airport? Bailey was returning to Denver already? “How long have I been out, Doc?” he asked. A lot of stuff seemed fuzzy in his mind.