Chapter Eight
B ear didn’t subscribe to print newspapers, and only scanned the news outlets’ online headlines once a day and rarely turned on the evening news. So, he’d missed the breaking information about the enormous pileup on the highway in western Idaho yesterday afternoon caused by heavy smoke from a wildfire in southeastern Oregon.
It was jarring reading about the disaster this morning, a day after it had taken place. It seemed that the smoke, combined with morning fog, created whiteout conditions resulting in a tractor trailer and a tanker colliding. The tanker overturned, burst into flames, and vehicles crashed into one another, with several trapped underneath larger ones. The spokesman from the Idaho Highway Patrol shared there were quite a few fatalities, but they had no final headcount due to the difficulty extracting cars and people from the carnage.
The story was so grim, it was the headline on virtually every American news outlet, and after reading several versions of the story, some with conflicting details, he forced himself to turn to the sports page to focus on something less tragic.
But the freeway pileup remained on his mind, as well as everyone’s mind. Throughout the day, different people mentioned it to him. Rye said something while they were standing outside Bear’s house waiting for the electrician, and then the electrician mentioned it the moment he arrived. The tile layer said it was awful beyond words. At lunch, Flo at the diner mentioned it. Everyone was worried as the death toll rose and rose and rose.
Bear had just returned to his Clyde Park ranch when Jimmy Jenkins, one of his longtime friends from the rodeo circuit texted him, sharing that Noah Kamp had never shown up for the rodeo in Pendleton yesterday. Noah was driving the 84 through Idaho yesterday, at least that had been the route he’d told his friends he was taking, and Jimmy hoped Bear had maybe heard from him.
Bear hadn’t. Confused, Bear reread the text. What was Jimmy saying? That Noah was missing, or that Noah was maybe involved in the pileup?
His hands trembled slightly, something they’d never done before his accident, making texting challenging. Giving up on typing the words, Bear called Jimmy. “When was Noah supposed to arrive in Pendleton?”
“Yesterday.” Jimmy sounded tired and hoarse. “He’d planned to arrive by three at the latest.”
“When was the last time anyone heard from him?”
“Yesterday morning. Noah called Pete from the road and said he was making good time and should be in Oregon around eleven thirty, and at the fairgrounds by three.”
“He was definitely driving the 84 then.”
“Yes.”
A sickening heaviness filled Bear’s gut. “And no one has heard from him since then?” Bear persisted.
“Not that I know of.”
Bear held his breath, wanting to imagine other alternatives. Perhaps Noah’s truck had overheated, or he’d needed to be towed for a repair. Maybe Noah had lost his phone. Maybe he’d caught a stomach bug and had pulled over at one of the highway rest stops…
But even if one of those was true, Noah would still communicate. Noah was the most reliable, responsible person Bear had ever known. “It doesn’t sound good,” Bear said at length.
“No, it doesn’t,” Jimmy agreed.
“Keep me in the loop.”
“I will.”
In his bedroom, Bear stripped and wheeled into the bathroom, the doorway wider. The painters had applied a primary coat to the new door and frame and had touched up the baseboards and filled the hole, but still needed to return to give a final coat, but they were waiting for Bear to move out to do it.
After a shower, he dressed and took his iPad into the kitchen where he filled a glass with water and pulled up the Highway 84 tragedy on his device, reading every article he could. He poured over the facts, and since it’d been over a day since the accident, the details were clearer. It was estimated that between forty-five and fifty vehicles had been involved, including seven big rigs, but investigators were working on the exact numbers, which was proving challenging do to the fiery explosion from the tanker and semitrucks. The freeway was still closed in both directions and probably wouldn’t reopen for another forty-eight hours, if not longer.
Bear called Noah. No answer. He texted him and waited, pacing restlessly in the kitchen, rolling back and forth, turning sharply, to roll the opposite direction.
Noah would answer. Noah had to answer. He’d talked to Noah just a few weeks ago and everything was going well for him. He was having his best year on the circuit in years, winning big money, gaining new sponsors, and he and Savannah were going strong, too. Noah rarely mentioned Savannah, and Bear didn’t ask, but Bear had been glad for Noah, glad that Noah, who had once been one of his best friends, was doing well. Noah deserved to be happy.
Bear rolled backwards until he bumped into the refrigerator and sat motionless, thoughts tangled, pulse racing. He felt sick, nauseous, exhausted. There were just too many accidents, too many tragedies, too many deaths.
Noah had to be okay. And just like that, Bear thought of Mick, Noah’s dog, an Australian Shepherd mix that usually went everywhere Noah would go. Had he been in the truck at the time? And what about the horses?
Part of Bear didn’t want to know more, but another part of him had to know.
The person who might have the answers was Savannah. She was also the last person Bear thought he’d ever call, but in light of the tragedy, he couldn’t not reach out.
Savannah answered after the third ring. “Bear,” she said, her voice pitched low, husky with emotion. “You’ve heard the news.”
“What have you heard?”
“The sherriff’s office called an hour ago. They’ve identified Noah’s truck and trailer, and Noah, too.” Her voice cracked and she pushed herself to continue. “He had his wallet on him. He made it easy for them. His dad is going to fly to Boise to recover his remains.”
Bear held his breath, trying to wrap his head around the news. After an endless silence he forced himself to speak. “How are you?”
She laughed, the sound strangled. “Terrible.”
“I am so sorry, Savannah.”
“Me, too. And now I have a dog—”
“You have Mick?”
“I do, but I can’t keep him. I can’t take care of a dog. I can’t even take care of myself.”
“I’ll take him.”
“You will?”
“Yes.”
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
She exhaled. “What about the baby, Bear? Do you want that, too?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of an answer. She was joking, right?
“I’ve shocked you,” she said, voice rising, cracking again. “But it’s true. I’m pregnant, Bear, and now Noah is gone, and he’ll never know he was going to be a dad.”
“You hadn’t told him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t sure I was going to keep the baby.”
“Oh, Savannah.”
“I know. I know .”
“Don’t you think it’s time you stepped up and did the right thing?”
“Don’t judge me!”
“I’m thinking of Noah. I’m thinking of what he would have wanted. This isn’t a handbag, it’s not something—”
“I can’t raise a baby on my own,” she interrupted fiercely.
Bear had heard all of this before. He’d known when they were dating that hearth and home didn’t have the same appeal as performing and glitzy costumes, but he hadn’t imagined she’d be so quick to get rid of their baby. “There are plenty of good people who’d love to be parents.”
“You’re talking about adoption.”
“It’s the right option if you don’t want to be a parent yourself.”
She said nothing.
“How far along are you?” he asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Maybe you should. Maybe it’d help you figure out a way forward, a way where you can honor Noah’s memory without giving up your dreams.”
“I can’t be pregnant. I’m booked all summer. I’m traveling all summer.”
“There’s no reason you can’t do both. It’s not like you’re riding a bronc.”
Savannah fell silent again.
Bear suppressed his frustration. How could he have thought she was the one for him? How had he not known who she really was? “When is your due date?”
For a moment he didn’t think she was going to answer.
“Early January. I’m fifteen weeks.” Then she was crying, crying hard.
Bear said nothing, because what could he possibly say?
After a minute, the sobs eased and her breathing steadied enough for her to whisper, “They say karma’s a bitch, and now I know what they mean.”
*
The rest of the afternoon was a struggle, and it didn’t get easier for Bear. He thought of little besides Noah, and what a good friend Noah had been to him following Bear’s accident. Noah had come to visit him daily in the beginning, and then weekly between Noah’s travel schedule.
When Bear hadn’t wanted to continue the painful rehab, Noah had got into his face and told him to man up and do what needed to be done, reminding Bear that he had a fiancé and a future, and it wasn’t fair to Savannah to just give up.
Bear’s sister Susie had also come from Australia and said much of the same thing. But there was something powerful in Noah’s reminder that real men didn’t quit, which stayed with Bear, focusing him.
Noah might have gotten Bear back to his physical and occupational therapy, but it was Susie who provided TLC since Savannah had her music and couldn’t make it to the hospital daily.
Susie, staying in one of those Residence Inns with little kitchens, would make Bear’s favorite chocolate chip cookies, or a berry crisp, substituting their Montana huckleberries for blackberries and boysenberries.
Susie had hand after hand of cards with him, and while they played, she told him her favorite stories of when they were growing up, and not the grizzly story, but what it was like growing up as kids living in a national park, thanks to their dad’s job as a US Park Ranger. They’d spent most of their years in Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons, but there had also been a stint in the Badlands, and Glacier National Park.
They reminisced about their different schools, and how their mom had tried to homeschool them one year, but Bear had ordered copies of the teacher’s edition and used it for his homework and reviewing before tests. He got the best grades of his life that year and the only one who knew what he was doing was Susie, and she never told.
Susie and Noah were the ones who got him through that first year. Savannah put in appearances, but she didn’t know how to handle the accident, and his paralysis, particularly the mishaps that came with learning how to transfer, how and when to use the bathroom, how to even dress.
In one of their terrible fights when he demanded to know why she just kept disappearing on him, she cried and blurted that she didn’t know how to cope anymore. It wasn’t personal. She just needed a strong man.
*
The next few days were some of the worst in Bear’s memory—at least since he’d woken up in the hospital from his coma to discover his world was forever altered. Everyone asked Bear if he’d known Noah Kamp. Strangers on the street offered him sympathy for the loss of his friend. Friends from his days on the rodeo and Pbr circuits reached out to him, wanting to grieve with someone.
It was a lot. And he wasn’t handling his own grief well.
Bear retreated to his ranch in Clyde Park and was grateful when his phone rang and it was Cormac Sheenan calling to ask if Bear had leased his ranch property yet as he knew of someone looking for a place like Bear’s. It was a young family, and they’d be in town for just another few days, and they were hoping to test out living on a ranch before buying.
Bear hadn’t yet had time to advertise his ranch and told Cormac to pass his contact info on to the couple, and that he’d be more than happy to have them come out and look around.
The couple followed up almost immediately and, grateful for the distraction, Bear invited them out for the next day. They settled on a morning time so that the family could still make their flights back to Los Angeles.
Aware that he hadn’t been upstairs in years, he had no idea how the bedrooms and bathrooms looked. He called Josie to ask if she’d do him a huge favor and come over to the big house and walk through the rooms upstairs and downstairs, checking to see if everything looked and smelled fresh. He had a personal pet peeve about closed, stuffy rooms and didn’t want the family to troop upstairs to be overwhelmed by claustrophobic heat.
Josie agreed and arrived with takeout from the Chinese restaurant in Marietta that was next door to the theater. While she dished the Kung Pao chicken, fried rice, and chow mein, Bear opened two beers and they ate on the front porch with the warm breeze blowing and the temperatures slowly dropping.
“This is sure pretty out here,” Josie said, comfortable in a folding chair that she’d found in the garage, her gaze fixed on the rugged mountain range before them. “But these mountains aren’t part of the Absaroka or Gallatin ranges, are they?”
Bear shook his head. “No, the Crazy Mountains are their own distinct range. They’re nearly completely surrounded by private lands, which makes public access to the mountains difficult.”
“I read somewhere that the Crazies, or Crazy Mountains, comes from a Crow name, but wasn’t sure if that was true or not.”
“I’ve heard two different stories, and both relate to the Crows. In the first, the Crazy Mountains is apparently a shorter name from the original, Crazy Woman Mountains, after a Crow woman who lost her mind, after losing her entire family in the westward expansion. Heartbroken, she disappeared into the mountains to live out the rest of her days alone.”
“That’s very sad. What is the other story?”
“The Crow people called these Ominous Mountains, with the English translation roughly being Crazy Mountains. Apparently, the mountains were known to have metaphysical powers and a place used for vision quests.”
“I’m glad you’re not in a hurry to sell your place. I worry that you might one day regret it.”
“You know this house isn’t my favorite.”
“I do,” she said. “But you have four hundred acres. You could build a new house for yourself anywhere.”
“And what would I do with this place?” he asked, jerking his thumb to the big log cabin wall behind him.
“Make it a vacation rental,” she said promptly. “I’ve looked at other local listings and you could earn some significant money renting it out, provided you required a four-night minimum or something like that. And then when you wanted to have a family gathering, you just block off those dates and reserve it for Susie and her husband and kids.”
“Why do I feel like you’re eager for me to invite Susie and her family here?”
“Oh, I am. I’d love to meet her, and I think she’d be so proud of you, founding a business that will benefit so many who couldn’t afford this service without you.”
“I’ve hinted at it, but she doesn’t know yet. I am going to wait until the Marietta facility opens, and then I’ll send her a link. Maybe a video.”
Josie nodded, her brows tugging together. “Can I ask you something that isn’t any of my business?” she asked after a few moments.
“When has that ever stopped you before?” he teased, reaching out to pluck a tendril of hair from her lashes.
Her cheeks turned pink, and her eyes glowed a luminous lavender. “I know, if I think it, I just say it.”
“I like that. I find it refreshing.”
“I am really impressed with what you’re doing, Bear, but it struck me that you’re not going to be able to make money from this venture. I don’t see how you could if you’re trying to make the service affordable—and available—for people who couldn’t normally use one.”
He didn’t answer immediately, too busy just looking at her and drinking her in. She was everything he’d never thought he’d find in the world, and yet here she was—beautiful, compassionate, smart, funny, kind .
Bear couldn’t think of one thing he didn’t like about her. He loved her honesty. He valued her curiosity and directness, gratified that she thought about what he did, and took the time to understand his business model. Savannah had never cared much one way or another about his investments. Savannah had wanted him successful, wanted the financial security, but there were never questions about sustainability, or the ethics of something. For her, making money was black and white. The goal was to make money, not spend it.
“I decided years ago that I don’t have to make money off of every business I’m involved in,” he said. “Opening robotic centers for those with spinal cord injuries is something I have to do—whether or not it cuts into my revenue.”
Josie nodded, eyes still shining, lips still curving. “I totally get it,” she said softly, fiercely. “I think that’s why I love what I do, create designs that even out the playing field for those who have challenges that not everyone understands, or cares to understand.”
“Not everyone has empathy,” he said.
“But it’s more than that, don’t you think? In my experience many people don’t want to think about how much harder life is for those with a chronic illness, or a disability. I don’t think people want to be uncaring, but many are just overwhelmed by their own problems. They don’t have the capacity to take on the challenges others face.”
She suddenly frowned and looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “There are times I can’t bear to think about the life my mom leads, taking care of my younger brother and my dad. It doesn’t seem fair that she has two people so dependent on her, but she doesn’t complain. She just gets on with it.”
“I have a feeling you’re a lot like her.”
Josie paused for a long moment. “I hope I’m happier. She’s never complained about her life, but she’s also never seemed… happy. And I don’t mean joyous, bubbly happy, but she strikes me as sad. Or perhaps it’s resigned. I never want to be that way. I never want to give up my power or feel like a victim. No matter what happens.”
“I respect the sentiment, but it’s a lot harder to keep that positive attitude when you’ve suffered significant losses.”
“That’s true.” Josie crinkled her nose. “I’m not trying to judge her. Or anyone. I just know what it felt like growing up in my family, and how isolating it was. We didn’t have very much money, and my parents couldn’t afford help, so there were no days off for Mom, no self-care days, either. Hannah and I tried to pitch in and help as much as possible, but there are some things kids just can’t do for their parents.”
“Like make them happy?” Bear said gently.
She nodded. “We can’t make anyone happy,” she said after a moment. “That’s something we have to do for ourselves.”
They were both silent for a stretch of time, and it was a very easy silence, comfortable, warm, peaceful. Sometimes Josie found it hard to relax, but there was something so restful about Bear. She felt good with him, herself with him. “Does everyone like you as much as I do?” she asked.
He laughed. “No. Definitely not. Most people think I’m a bear.”
“Like your namesake.”
“Mmmm.”
“You can be grumpy,” she said sweetly, “but I’m seeing less and less of that side of you. I think you’re making progress.”
He laughed again, and the sound gave her such pleasure. His laugh was deep and rumbly and impossibly sexy. “You’re ruthless.”
“I think you like it.”
“Do I?”
She nodded. “You like that I don’t take you too seriously. You like that I can make you laugh. And you like that I’ve put the right toilet in your new house so you won’t fall off it again.”
“I do think you’re good for me.”
She flashed an impish smile. “I do, too.” And then she remembered something she’d been wanting to ask him, and it seemed like a good time now. “I’ve been dying to ask you, but is the story true, about how you earned your nickname Bear?”
He shook his head. “I can’t escape that story, can I? It’s been what… twenty-something years ago?”
“Everyone’s heard it. In school, you learn about Lewis and Clark, Johnny Appleseed, Paul Bunyan, Daniel Boone and Bear Anderson.”
He laughed, amused. “That is some strange history you were taught.”
“I recognize some of those might have been legends,” she said primly, “and some were real people, but you, Bear Anderson, are both a legend and a real person.”
He gestured to his wheelchair. “As you can see, I am more man than legend.”
She leaned toward him. “But did the bear actually attack you?”
Bear pushed up his sleeve showing his bicep and a glimpse of the deep claw marks scarring the skin of his shoulder. “It goes down my back.”
“That’s… wow.”
“It got me pretty good. I wouldn’t have survived if my sister hadn’t run for my dad. Dad came charging with a rifle, and shot at the grizzly, and I lived to tell about it.”
“But you jumped in front of your sister.”
“I don’t know if I jumped in front of her or pushed her behind me. But we were walking and suddenly there was the bear, and she was closer to the bear and Susie froze. Goofy lost his mind, barking and growling and dancing around the bear. I was afraid the grizzly would kill my dog, so I grabbed a branch and charged.”
“Weren’t you scared?”
“Terrified. But nobody messed with my dog. Goofy was my best friend.”
Josie grinned. “So, you really were saving your dog and not your sister.”
His eyes creased at the corners, humor warming the silver-gray irises. “See, you know the truth. It was never about my sister.”
He was teasing her, but it wasn’t his words that made her heart thud, it was his smile. His smile was so warm and intimate that Josie felt a flutter in her middle, a delicate tingly butterfly sensation. “I suppose it does make a better story if it was your sister.”
“One hundred percent.”
Josie couldn’t stop smiling, even as the fizzy sensation inside of her rose, bubbling up in her chest. She felt a little silly, a little giddy, and very happy. “How old were you?”
“Ten. Susie was eight. And Goofy was five.”
“What happened after your dad arrived?”
“He shot at the bear, but the bear took off.”
“And then?”
“Mom called for help. Dad stayed with me while help arrived. I was airlifted to the hospital and got rushed into surgery where they fixed me up, and when I came to there were newspaper reporters, photographers, and congratulations from the governor of Montana.” He gave her a look. “I was a really big deal. For all of one week.”
“And the boy became a legend.”