Page 4 of Grumpy Bear (Return To Fate Mountain #4)

Chapter

Four

Henry steered his 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 some emergency 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.”

His father approached more slowly, his imposing frame showing few signs of age despite turning sixty. Leland Kincaid carried himself with the natural authority of an alpha bear shifter, tempered by years of business acumen.

“Son,” he said simply, extending his hand.

Henry shook it firmly. “Happy birthday, Dad.”

The brief moment of connection was immediately swallowed by the tide of relatives surging forward to greet him.

Uncle Buck and his wife Maria welcomed him warmly, while Uncle Jessie and his fox shifter wife Dana teased him about “emerging from hibernation.” Even Uncle Cyrus, almost as much a recluse as Henry, offered an understanding nod from his position against the far wall, his wife Daisy subtly refilling his drink as if providing liquid courage for the social occasion.

“Henry,” squealed a voice, and suddenly his cousin Joy was hugging him tightly. Buck and Maria’s daughter had always adored him, despite his standoffish nature. “I can’t believe you actually came out of your cave.”

“It’s a cabin,” he corrected automatically, awkwardly returning her hug before extracting himself.

The next fifteen minutes passed in a blur of greetings, unwanted physical contact, and questions about his work and life that he deflected with practiced brevity.

By the time his mother announced dinner, Henry’s shoulders were hunched with tension, his responses reduced to single words whenever possible.

The massive dining table groaned under platters of food. Henry found himself wedged between Joy and his cousin Emma, Jessie and Dana’s daughter, with little hope of quiet or escape.

“So how’s the ranger service these days?” Uncle Buck asked from across the table, his booming voice carrying over the general conversation.

Henry swallowed his bite of roast beef. “Busy.”

“That’s it? Busy?” Logan prodded, smirking. “No exciting tales of bear heroism to share with the family?”

“Just routine patrols. Fire prevention. The usual.”

“Speaking of fire prevention,” Uncle Buck continued, “Did you hear about the strange business over at the Hampton Orchard last year? Some kind of ecological sabotage?”

Henry’s interest piqued despite himself. “What happened?”

“Several cases of deliberate fire-setting,” Buck explained, gesturing with his fork. “Arsonists setting blazes at the edge of the apple orchard. Could have destroyed the whole place if they hadn’t contained it quickly.”

“And don’t forget the water issues at the Fate Mountain Brewery,” added Uncle Jessie.

Henry frowned, his mind churning with these new pieces of information. Forest fires. Water contamination. Both incidents targeting the mountain’s natural resources.

“Sounds like someone has a grudge against Fate Mountain,” he said.

Logan leaned forward, suddenly interested in Henry’s perspective. “You think these are connected? The forest service investigating?”

Henry hesitated, wrestling with whether to share what he’d found at the construction site. Before he could decide, his father spoke.

“Land use board got briefed on some of these incidents,” Leland said, his tone measured. “Nothing conclusive, but there’s concern about outside interests trying to destabilize local operations.”

“Could affect our timber management if it spreads,” Buck added, concern etching lines around his eyes. “We’ve doubled security around our active harvest areas.”

Henry mentally filed away this information, resolving to look deeper into these patterns.

His family might find him antisocial, but they respected his knowledge of the mountain and its ecosystems. He’d been aware of the strange events at Fate Mountain Wilderness Academy last summer.

If someone was systematically targeting Fate Mountain, his ranger position might provide a unique vantage point to connect the dots.

After dinner came the inevitable gift presentation. Leland opened each present with understated appreciation. Henry’s contribution, a handcrafted leather belt with subtle bear claw imagery tooled into the design, earned a nod of approval.

“Fine craftsmanship,” his father acknowledged, running a thumb over the detailed work. “Thank you, son.”

Just as Henry began to relax, thinking the worst of the evening was behind him, his mother stood with a suspicious smile.

“And now,” Sylvia announced, “we have a special gift for Henry.”

His stomach dropped as Joy bounced excitedly beside him, producing a small, wrapped box.

“Since you refuse to join the twenty-first century,” his mother continued, “we decided to give you a gentle push.”

Henry unwrapped the package with mounting dread, revealing exactly what he feared. A sleek, modern smartphone gleamed up at him from its pristine packaging. He stared at it as if it were a venomous snake.

“Now you have no excuse not to keep in touch,” Sylvia declared triumphantly.

“Or try modern dating,” Joy added with a wink.

The room erupted in laughter at Henry’s horrified expression. He forced his face into what he hoped resembled gratitude rather than panic.

“It’s already activated,” Logan explained, clearly enjoying his brother’s discomfort. “Joy loaded all the family contacts. Even downloaded some useful apps to get you started.”

“Like mate.com,” Joy stage-whispered to raucous family amusement.

Henry suppressed a groan. “The right mate appears when the time is right,” Aunt Maria said kindly, perhaps taking pity on him.

“Mate.com sure helped Jessie and me,” Aunt Dana added. “Sometimes you need technology to find what fate already knows.”

“Henry would make some woman an excellent mate,” Joy insisted, nudging him. “He’s just hidden away where no one can find him.”

Henry maintained stoic silence, his expression growing more wooden by the minute. His bear instincts were growling for escape, for the peaceful solitude of his cabin where no one discussed his love life or lack thereof.

“Look at Henry’s face,” Mason laughed. “Like we’re suggesting he wrestle a mountain lion.”

“A mate might actually be less dangerous than Henry’s preferred company,” Logan added. “At least she wouldn’t have claws and fangs.”