Page 5 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

Cooper grimaces. “It could be anything. Timber, natural gas, mining. From what we can understand, whoever owns this claim has the right to activate it.”

I jump to my feet. “They can’t do that!”

My brothers exchange a quick glance.

“We need more information,” Hunter says. “That document is a bunch of bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo. Copies of the land use laws and homestead claims plus enough fine print to give each of us a headache.”

“Except me,” Evan says with a wink. I know he’s using his dyslexia to lighten the mood, but it’s not working for me right now.

“So what do we do?” I ask.

“The Alaska Land Bureau might have answers,” Cooper says.

“Then let’s go!” I wonder what the hell we’re doing here when there’s an obvious course of action.

“They’re not open on weekends,” Grams says, reaching for my hand. Hers is warm and strong, a reminder of what we’ve endured as a family. “But we’ll go first thing Monday morning.”

Cooper stands. “Meanwhile, we’ll all start looking into how to fight this.”

“Yes,” I say, nodding. I need more information, but Soren Lake’s only internet connection is at the lodge. I can use the office before my shift in the dining room.

“We’ll meet at the Land Office Monday,” Hunter says.

For the next two days,I spend every spare minute reading up on land claims in Alaska, homestead laws, and measures that protect private and public land. Nothing I read gives me solid answers.

I need to know who owns this land tenure, and I need to know if they for sure can activate it. For the hundredth time, I wish Granddad had fought to list Soren Creek as a Wild and Scenic River, which provides the highest level of federal protection. A Wild and Scenic River stays wild forever. Period. But obtaining Wild and Scenic protection is an arduous process, requiring alegitact of congress plus considerably more resources than what our family could manage.

By Monday morning, my tight stomach aches like I’ve swallowed wood chips. I’m exhausted from my late-night fact-finding missions in the admin office and my shifts in the dining room. The idea that Soren Creek is in jeopardy has made sleep impossible.

Not only has this been my home since our parents died, it’s where my parents fell in love. Dad worked as a fishing guide like he did every summer, and Mom took a last-minute job working at a remote fishing lodge after her boyfriend at the time eloped with her best friend. Crushed, she took a last-minute housekeeping job at the lodge, planning to fill her free time with adventures.

Soren Creek is also home to millions of wild sockeye, the healthiest population in all of Alaska. If logging or a natural gas pipeline mucks up the waterway, destroying fish and bird habitat, it’s only a matter of time before the ecosystem falls apart.

The drive to the Alaska Land Use Office passes in a blur. My armpits feel clammy and my skin is hot.

Grams drops me off outside so I can get started. My brothers aren’t here yet, but I don’t wait. Inside the building, the bright fluorescent lights make me squint. By the time I get to the stairs, my head hurts. The air is ice-box cold and smells of dust, which does nothing to soothe the inferno crackling inside me.

The department I need is on the second floor, so I take the steps two at a time. To my dismay, there’s already a line at the window.

Without looking at the papers clutched in my shaking hand, I join the queue. Patience has never been one of my strengths, but I don’t have a choice right now.

The muted chatter from the front of the line seems to press on my eardrums, like someone’s slowly turning up the volume. Despite the fan blowing in the corner, my back feels sticky with sweat. I check the clock above the window. It’s 8:07, with six people ahead of me.

Grams steps from the elevator and joins me moments before Evan and Jared bound up the stairs. We hug, and I soak as much strength from them as I can. The line moves up. Hunter and Cooper arrive, drawing the attention of the others waiting. With three rowdy giants for brothers, it’s always like this, so I’m not bothered by people’s stares. My brothers talk in hushed tones, but it gets louder. They can’t help it.

With a sigh, I spin around.

“We’re going to get kicked out before we even get to the front of the line if you can’t keep it down,” I say in a tense whisper.

Like school kids getting caught misbehaving, they go still.

“Sorry,” Evan says.

Cooper runs his hand through his hair and Jared shuffles his feet. They’re just nervous, like me. The only person remotely comfortable in this type of environment is Hunter, but his face is tense, like he’s more worried than he’s letting on, probably for my benefit.

Ahead of me, an elderly woman turns away from the customer service window and shuffles to the exit. The man in front of me takes her place.

Almost there.

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