Page 6 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

I gaze at the clock, then focus on the back of the person now at the window. Their conversation seems to take forever. Finally, he laughs at something the clerk says, then picks up his papers and thanks her.

“Next!” the clerk calls.

I jump forward and slide the creased paperwork under the partition. My brothers crowd in behind me.

The clerk is an older woman with rosy jowls and long, coral-pink fingernails that scrape the Formica countertop when she scoops up the papers. Her name tag says Sherri, or maybe it’s Sherrin, or Sherrilee—the end is hidden by her crocheted cardigan.

“This has to be a mistake,” I say in a rush, my voice raw and breathy.

After a wary glance at my brothers who are no doubt blocking the light, Sherri slides her bifocals up her nose and scans the top sheet of the paperwork, her mouth set in a line of concentration.

“So this claim is holding up the completion of the preserve?” she asks.

Though it pains me to do it, I nod.

“Our grandfather worked for years to protect this watershed,” Cooper says. “Everything was in place.”

Sherri swivels over to her computer and types something.

My stomach twists into buzzy little knots. I grasp my mom’s locket and slide it side to side on the chain. From behind me, Evan grips my shoulders.

Sherri leans closer to her screen, scrolling. She checks the paperwork, then swivels back and slides the notice back under the partition.

“There’s an existing mineral claim, and unless the owner releases the rights, your preserve can’t include it.”

“Why haven’t we heard about this claim until now?” Evan asks.

Sherri’s eyes tighten in sympathy. “It’s not unusual for a tenure to be dormant for a period of time.”

A century ago, during the Alaska land rush, a person could stake a claim on federal land, forever calling “dibs” on whatever resources happen to be there, if any. Something had to cause this claimant to suddenly want to block the finalization of the preserve.

Something urgent.

I swallow, but my dry throat throbs in protest. “Can you see the type of claim they have?”

Sherri returns to her computer and scrolls some more. “Molybdenum and copper.”

Jared curses softly. The rest of us are completely still.

I swallow hard. Copper and molybdenum are minerals that can only get out of the ground by one method.

“They’re building a mine,” I manage, my voice cracking.

“No,” Grams says, her tone fierce. “That’s not possible.”

I ignore my family and lean closer to the window, my eyes locked on Sherri’s. “What do we do?”

“To stop the claim from being activated, or to renegotiate the boundary of the preserve?” Her voice is encouraging, but it’s not enough to slow the unraveling of my sanity.

“The first one.” Because I’m not renegotiating anything. Especially now that I know what’s at stake.

Sherri strokes her chin, a thoughtful expression in her eyes. “Can you buy the claim?”

I blink at her. Could it be that easy? “Is that a thing?”

Sherri licks her fingers and plucks a packet from the bank of cubbies behind her, then slides it under the partition. The top page is printed with faded ink and titled “Buying Mineral Claims on Federal Lands”. The other two pages look like fine print.

“How much would it cost to buy it?” Cooper asks, leafing through the papers.

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