As Ivy spoke, she noticed several construction workers pausing their tasks to watch the exchange. Vance stood quietly beside her, his expression neutral but alert. The chance for things to get worse hung in the air like the smell of an approaching storm.
Maya began handing out flyers to nearby workers, who took them awkwardly but didn’t read them. “People need to know what’s happening to their mountain,” she declared loudly.
Sensing the tension rising, Ivy stepped forward with practiced diplomatic skill. “Maya, I really do value your passion forprotecting this ecosystem. It’s exactly the kind of awareness we want to foster through the nature center.”
The young activist faltered slightly at Ivy’s genuine tone. “Would you be interested in looking at our complete environmental impact assessment?” Ivy continued, seizing the opening. “We’ve gathered lots of data on local species, water quality, and soil composition. I’d welcome your thoughts.”
Maya looked surprised by the offer. “You’d show me your internal documents?”
“Absolutely,” Ivy confirmed. “Conservation education requires openness. We believe this center will actually help protection efforts by creating more environmental advocates.”
Vance stepped forward. “We’ve also implemented measures that go beyond the county’s requirements. The construction materials were selected specifically for minimal impact.”
Maya’s stiff posture softened. “I’d... I’d need to see those documents before I could make any judgment.”
“Of course,” Ivy agreed, pulling up files on her tablet. “Can I email them to you now? I’d appreciate your feedback, especially if you notice areas we could improve.”
The confrontational energy faded as Ivy collected Maya’s email address and sent the documents. The construction workers returned to their tasks, and Vance excused himself to check on progress at another part of the site.
“I still don’t think development belongs in this forest,” Maya said as she pocketed her phone, but her tone had lost some of its hostility.
“I understand,” Ivy replied sincerely. “I hope after reviewing our plans, you’ll see that we share more goals than differences. We both want to protect this mountain.”
Chapter
Four
Henry steeredhis weathered truck along the familiar route to Timber Bear Ranch. The sprawling Kincaid family property unfolded across the lush valley, hundreds of acres dotted with grazing cattle and pristine stands of timber. In the distance, the grand main farmhouse stood as a monument to generations of Kincaid success, its two-story frame gleaming white against the darkening evening sky.
Family gatherings always set his teeth on edge. Too many people, too many questions, too many expectations he could never meet. His father’s sixtieth birthday dinner would be no exception, with relatives packed into every corner of the house, their voices overlapping in a cacophony that would make his bear instincts scream for escape.
As Henry approached the long gravel driveway marked by an imposing wooden arch bearing the family name, he caught sight of at least a dozen vehicles already parked near the house. Great. He was late, which meant he’d become the center of attention the moment he walked through the door. He considered, not for the first time that evening, turning around and fabricating someemergency back at his cabin. A bear breaking into his storage shed. A fallen tree blocking his door. Anything to avoid the next few hours.
He drove past the main cluster of vehicles, parking his mud-splattered truck far from the gleaming SUVs and luxury pickups. The contrast wasn’t lost on him. While his brothers and cousins had embraced the family businesses, expanding the ranch’s operations and profits, Henry had chosen a humble forest service cabin and a ranger’s modest salary.
Memories flickered as he climbed out of his truck. Running through these fields as a cub, learning to track with Uncle Cyrus, arguing with his father about college and career paths. This place had shaped him, but it had never contained him. Not the way the forest did, with its honest silence and uncomplicated demands.
Henry took a deep breath, straightened the collar of his least-wrinkled flannel shirt, and approached the house like a man walking to his own funeral.
The sound of laughter and conversation spilled from the open windows, carrying the familiar scents of his mother’s cooking. He paused on the wide front porch, hand hovering over the doorknob. It wasn’t too late to turn back. He could claim work emergencies, apologize tomorrow...
No. He’d promised. With a resigned sigh, Henry pushed open the door and stepped into the warm glow of his childhood home.
Conversation stuttered to a halt as heads turned toward him. The entire Kincaid clan seemed to be packed into the spacious living room, their expressions shifting from surprise to delight to amusement at his arrival.
“Henry,” his mother called. Sylvia Kincaid approached with arms outstretched. “You finally made it.”
He submitted to her embrace with the stiffness of someone unused to physical contact. “Sorry I’m late. Had to finish some reports.”
“Of course you did,” she said, patting his cheek with fond exasperation.
Before he could answer, his younger brothers descended, their matching grins promising the merciless teasing that had been a staple of their relationship since childhood.
“Look what the bear dragged in,” Logan said, clapping Henry on the shoulder hard enough to make a normal human stumble. At thirty-two, Logan handled the ranch’s business operations with their father, his polished appearance reflecting his frequent dealings with investors and corporate partners.
“We had a bet going about whether you’d actually show up,” added Mason, the youngest at twenty-nine, who managed the ranch’s daily operations and veterinary needs. “I just won twenty bucks.”
Henry managed a tight smile. “Glad to be profitable for someone.”
