She dumped the box in the back of his truck and started for the house.

"On the fifteenth?" He started to back up. "You know, the one at ten a.m.?"

She hit the bottom stair and he ran for his life.

THREE.

Johnny sat very straight behind the wheel of his pickup as he made his first solo journey into Niniltna the next morning. He drove with sobriety and caution, and pulled into Annie Mike's driveway with nary a nourish.

This sedate impression of middle age disintegrated when the front door opened and Van stepped out onto the porch.

Vanessa c.o.x's posture was so good that she would always seem taller than she was. Her dark hair was thick, fine, and straight, cut bluntly to brush her shoulders, with a spiky fringe to frame her dark eyes. She had a slim, straight nose, a full, firm mouth, and a delicately pointed chin.

For years her attire had consisted of bibbed denim overalls with a marsupial front pocket and buckled shoulder straps, worn over a T-shirt in summer and a turtleneck in winter, usually accessorized with Xtra Tuffs and a down jacket. Recently, her wardrobe had expanded to include low-rider jeans, cropped T-shirts, and Uggs. She wore thin gold hoops in her ears and her lips shone with gloss.

Johnny didn't notice any of this in detail, of course. All he knew was that his best buddy Van had suddenly and inexplicably turned into a girl. "You look good," he said.

Her answering smile revealed a surprising set of dimples, a crooked left incisor, and a sparkle in her eyes that was as unsettling as it was exhilarating. "Thank you," she said demurely.

"Want a ride?"

She hopped in without answering. He may have put little more English on his departure than he had on his arrival, and who can blame him?

It was a beautiful day, barely a wisp of cloud to obstruct the view of the QuilakMountains scratching a harsh line into the eastern sky. The Kanuyaq was as yet ice-free, and running low after a dry spring and a warm summer had pushed all the snowmelt down to the Gulf. The days were crisp, the nights cool but not yet cold. Canada geese practiced their V formations overhead, browsing moose cows were waiting for the siren call of moose bulls in rut, and two yearling grizzly cubs shot across the road inches in front of the blue pickup's b.u.mper. Johnny took his foot off the gas but retained enough wit not to stamp on the brakes, and the cubs' hindquarters disappeared into the brush on the other side of the road. A second later and he would have clipped their hindquarters.

Johnny pulled to a halt at the corner, where Annie's driveway met the road to the NiniltnaSchool, and paused. He looked at Van and suddenly driving up to school in his very own vehicle in front of all the kids seemed less appealing. On impulse, he turned left.

"This isn't the way to school," Van said. She had her window down and the cab was filled with the sound of dry leaves and fallen spruce needles crinkling beneath the truck's tires.

"I was thinking we could skip."

"Skip school?" she said.

"Just once," he said. He patted the steering wheel and gave her a sidelong grin. "We don't have to make a habit out of it, but today's kind of a special day."

She considered. "Where do you want to go?"

There weren't a lot of places to hang out in the Park, and that was a fact. "We could go watch the bears at the dump," he said.

She smiled. "Been there, done that."

"It's a nice day. We could hike up to the Lost Wife Mine."

She shook her head. "I don't feel like sweating."

"Riverside Cafe and the espresso drink of your choice?"

She raised one shoulder and let it fall. She turned her head and opened her eyes. One eyebrow might have raised, ever so slightly.

"Want to go to Ahtna?" he said.

Technically, he had his driver's license. He had his own truck in his own name, bought and paid for with his own money, earned in a dozen odd jobs. He had deckhanded with Kate for Old Sam Dementieff the previous summer. He'd hauled, cut, and stacked wood for Auntie Balasha, Auntie Joy, Auntie Vi, and Annie Mike. He'd swabbed floors at the Roadhouse and canned salmon for Demetri Totemoff. He'd even helped Matt Grosdidier smoke silver salmon the month before, although for that job he'd gotten paid in fish, not that he was complaining. Neither was Kate. He'd even filed paperwork for Ranger Dan and Chopper Jim.

And it wasn't like Kate had told him he couldn't go to Ahtna if he wanted to. Of course, he hadn't asked her. Mostly because he had had a pretty good idea of what her answer would be, especially if he was cutting school the second week of the year, and using his brand-new truck to do it. And then of course there was the little matter of his license being provisional until he was eighteen. He could drive himself but he wasn't supposed to drive anyone else underage. But who bothered with that in the Bush?

He had a niggling feeling that Kate and Jim both might have an answer for that. What they would like even less was their destination. Ahtna was a big town, over three thousand in the town proper. Every student in Park schools had been weaned on stories about the kids at Peratrovich High.

Ahtna was the biggest town closest to the Park, bigger even than Cordova, and you had to fly or take a boat to Cordova. Ahtna had a movie theater, a courthouse, a DMV, a Safeway, and a Costco, making it the market town for the Park. It had bars, and two liquor stores. The Park had Bernie's Roadhouse, where owner, proprietor, and bartender Bernie Koslowski by virtue of also being the Niniltna basketball coach knew the birthday of every kid in the Park. There was no buying a drink at the Roadhouse if you were underage.

Ahtna was a different story. It was easy, so they said, to get lost in the crowd in Ahtna. It was easy to pa.s.s for legal. All you needed was a fake ID, and sometimes you didn't even need that. The very mention of Ahtna's name brought an intoxicating whiff of sin to any Niniltnan in his or her teens, and a corresponding shiver of fear to their parents.

But "Sure," Van said, before he could think better of his invitation, and smiled at him again. They went to Ahtna forthwith.

It wasn't an easy drive, a battered gravel road that had begun life as a remnant of the railroad roadbed for the Kanuyaq River & Northern Railroad, built to haul copper ore from the Kanuyaq copper mine to the seaport in Cordova, there to be loaded onto bulk carriers and shipped to foundries Outside. The copper ran out after thirty years and the mining company left, pulling up the railroad tracks behind it. Unfortunately, they weren't quite as conscientious about the railroad spikes that had held the tracks together.

The road had not improved in the interim. Maintained by a state grader twice a year, once in the spring after breakup and once in the fall before the first snow, it was ridged and potholed, with shoulders crumbling to narrow a road that was barely wide enough for one car to begin with. Overgrown in some places with alder and stands of rusty brown spruce killed from the spruce bark beetle, and with cottonwoods where it crossed creeks, the road of necessity to its original purpose followed the most level possible ground, which meant it followed the twisting, winding course of one river and creek after another, which did not make for good visibility. Head-on collisions were frequent occurrences, as were sideswipes and rollovers, as the only places to pull over were the trailheads into cabins, homesteads, mining claims, and fish camps.

Johnny negotiated all these hazards more or less successfully, and even managed to cross the bridge at Lost Chance Creek without incident. It was a relief when they hit pavement just outside of Ahtna. When he'd driven that road the last time, he'd had Kate with him. Kate was the grown-up, his legal guardian, and as such responsible for him. This time, he was with Vanessa. It was his truck, and it had been his idea to go to Ahtna. Plus, she had that whole girl thing going on.

Not that he ever thought of women as the weaker s.e.x, in need of protection from the big strong he-man. Not with Kate Shugak an in-his-face example every day, he didn't. It was just. . . well, he wasn't sure what just it was. All he knew was that this trip was his responsibility and he didn't want it ending in a ditch somewhere between Ahtna and Niniltna.

Van gave a little wriggle of delight when the ride smoothed out and all seven thousand parts of the pickup stopped banging against each other, which noise was replaced by the hiss of vulcanized rubber on asphalt. "I love paved roads," she said.

He grinned at her. "Me, too. So, where do you want to go first?"

"Costco," she said instantly.

He pretended to groan. "Shopping. I shoulda known. Do you have a card?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "I'm on Annie's family card."

So they spent a solid hour in the hangar-sized big box, Van trying on every item of clothing, male and female, there was on offer, Johnny mooning up and down the tools and auto parts aisles, and both of them drifting inexorably to the book table.

"That was fun," she said as they were leaving.

He gave her a quizzical look. "We didn't buy anything."

She gave him a sunny smile. "So what? Someday we will."

He laughed. "Okay. Where next? You hungry?"

"Starving!"

He could have taken her to McDonald's-Ahtna had one of those, too-but Johnny was determined to be cooler than that. "Can we afford this?" she said, wide-eyed, as they pulled into the parking lot of the Ahtna Lodge.

He grinned at her. "I didn't spend all my money on Old Blue, here," he said, patting the dashboard. He opened the door and said over his shoulder, "Most of it, but not all of it." His grin widened when he heard her laugh behind him. She'd had the same laugh since he'd first met her, a loud, brash blare of no-holds-barred amus.e.m.e.nt that sounded like it came right out of one of the songs of those old blues singers Kate listened to sometimes, raunchy, rough-edged, knowing, sad. He'd seen adults startled and sometimes alarmed by that laugh, as if they hadn't expected it to come out of the mouth of someone so quiet, or so young.

He didn't see the man in the parking lot turn his head at the sound of that laugh, gaze at Van for a moment, and then look at Johnny. He didn't see the man's eyes widen. Johnny held out his hand and Van came around the front of the pickup and took it as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if they'd been holding hands for years.

They walked up the steps and through the restaurant doors. A slender, dark-haired man with a gold hoop earring in one ear and a white ap.r.o.n wrapped twice around his slim waist spotted Johnny at once. "Hey, kid," he said, shifting the tray of dirty dishes he was holding from one shoulder to the other so he could shake Johnny's hand. "How you been? How's Kate?"

Mercifully, he did not comment on its being a school day, which Johnny was belatedly realizing could be a question raised by everyone who knew who he was and who he lived with. "Good," Johnny said, "we're both good. Tony, this is my friend Vanessa."

Vanessa looked startled. It was the first time Johnny had called her anything but Van. Johnny pretended not to notice, too busy pretending to be a grown-up.

"Hey, Vanessa," Tony said, giving her an appraising look as he shook her hand. He winked at Johnny. "You hungry?"

"Stan cooking?" Stan being Tony's partner in life and in the Ahtna Lodge and the genius behind the steak sandwiches that were a magnet for everyone within a hundred miles.

"That he is."

"Then we're starving. Can we get a table by the window?" Tony looked over his shoulder. "Give me five minutes, and it's yours."

"Thanks, Tony."

They were seated and they both ordered the specialty of the house. In the interval, two virgin daiquiris arrived, ice and syrup and strawberries whipped to a froth and swirled into gla.s.ses the size of hubcaps.

A delighted smile spread across Van's face.

"Uh," Johnny said, loath to see the smile go away. "We didn't order these, Tony."

Tony nodded at the bar. "Courtesy of your friend."

Uh-oh. Johnny turned his head, hoping against hope it wasn't anybody like Ahtna police chief Kenny Hazen, who would be sure to mention that he'd seen Johnny in Ahtna on a school day the next time he saw Jim.

It wasn't Chief Hazen. It was instead someone almost as tall, but with a rangier build and a broad face that smiled at Johnny from beneath the bill of a Colorado Rockies ball cap.

"Who is that?" Vanessa said.

"I don't-" Johnny stopped. "Doyle?" He half rose from his chair, his voice uncertain. "Doyle Greenbaugh?"

Greenbaugh's laugh was hearty. He walked to their table and smacked Johnny's hand in an enthusiastic grip. "For a minute I thought you didn't recognize me. How you doing, Johnny?"

"For a minute I didn't," Johnny said, returning Greenbaugh's handshake. "What are you doing in Alaska, Doyle?"

Greenbaugh shrugged, still grinning. "It's your fault. You made it sound pretty good. I figured I'd come up and see how much you were bulls.h.i.tting me." He nodded over Johnny's shoulder. "Who's your friend?"

Johnny, on his first date with his first-he was pretty sure-his first real girlfriend, could not resist the urge to show off a little. "Doyle," he said proudly, "this is Vanessa c.o.x." He'd even remembered to introduce the girl first. "Van, this is Doyle Greenbaugh." He hesitated, and then said, "I know him from Outside."

"How do, ma'am," Greenbaugh said. He actually removed his cap and even gave a nod that was halfway to a bow.

Vanessa, as yet unaccustomed to male deference to the fairer s.e.x, tried for a regal inclination of the head in reply. Her pinkened cheeks gave her away, though.

"We drove in for lunch," Johnny said, adding manfully, "Would you like to join us?"

Greenbaugh waved a hand. "No, no, I don't want to intrude." He turned his head so Vanessa couldn't see and winked. I won't horn in on your action. I won't horn in on your action.

Johnny felt his ears get hot, and mumbled something in reply.

"We should get together and catch up, though," Greenbaugh said. "You live in Ahtna? I thought it was another town, can't remember the name of it. Ninilchik?" He misp.r.o.nounced it "NIN-il-chik." You could always tell when someone was new to the state by how badly they mangled the place names.

"Actually, it was Anchorage," Johnny said, "but it's Niniltna now."

"How's that?"

"Nuh-NILT-nuh."

"Niniltna," Greenbaugh said. "That close to here?"

"East, up a gravel road a hundred miles or so."

"It the size of this place?"

Johnny laughed. "Not hardly. Only a couple hundred people." Greenbaugh made a face. "That small, probably no jobs."

"You looking for work?" Greenbaugh shrugged. "Gotta eat."

"There's an outfit starting up a gold mine in the Park," Johnny said impulsively. Van, sitting with her eyes downcast, looked at Johnny briefly and then down again. "They say there are going to be a lot of jobs in it."

Greenbaugh brightened. "A gold mine?"

"I could maybe talk to somebody for you."

"Man, I'd appreciate that."

"Well, it's not like I don't owe you," Johnny said. Van looked up again, dark eyes on his face. "You staying here in Ahtna?"

"Yeah, I got a room here."

"Got transportation?"

"Got a little Nissan pickup, packed with all my worldly belongings. Which ain't much."

"What happened to your rig?"

Greenbaugh grimaced. "One deadhead too many. Bank repossessed her."

"d.a.m.n. I'm sorry, Doyle."

"Luck of the draw. Why I came north, start over."

"Lot of people do that," Johnny said. "Lot of people drop their past life at the Beaver Creek border crossing."