“Don’t be a stranger, Dodge,” she said and took his bowl.

He put his hand on Nash’s shoulder. “By the way, there was a crazy grizzly out near the Farleys’ place. Ate all their winter stash, was terrorizing the dogs. We chased it away, but it was acting strange. I know your land runs near theirs, so it could be headed your way.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

Dodge nodded.

Mal glanced at Dodge before he headed back to his table. “Wednesday afternoon around four. Don’t be a coward.”

Dodge was about to decline when the door opened, letting in the brisk night air, and with it, Deacon Starr, garbed up in his county sheriff uniform, his wool hat dusted with snow.

He stopped, his eyes adjusting to the light, and scanned the room.

When his gaze landed on Dodge, it stuck. Deke came over. “Well, look who the storm dragged in.”

Dodge met his grip. “Guess I know who to stay clear of.”

“Only if you break the law.” He didn’t add again, so Dodge counted that as a positive. “Your dad’s accident bring you back?”

“Still first in the class, Deke.”

He grinned. “Your dad said you were some kind of hero, fighting over in Afghanistan. Flying choppers?”

Huh. How the old man found that out, he hadn’t a clue. And he clearly didn’t have the full story. “Not a hero, but yeah, I did a couple tours. Got out about a year ago.” Deke didn’t need the details, not when Dodge was trying to put it all behind him.

“Hope you’re sticking around.”

Dodge was trying to find an answer when Deke’s radio squawked. He picked it off his belt and stepped away, answering it.

This was probably his cue. “See you ’round, Nash.” He headed toward the door.

Outside, the snow had begun to pile on the cars, the warm weather clearly a faint memory. The chill bit at his ears, and he turned up his collar as he stalked out to his truck.

“Dodge!” Deke’s voice turned him around. The sheriff was jogging out toward him. “Hey. Just got a call. Bear attack, out at one of the ranger cabins. They need an emergency chopper.”

Dodge stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at Deke. A beat, then, “Wait, me? What about the Copper Mountain SAR?”

“What Copper Mountain SAR? We ran out of funding a long time ago. Nearest SAR crew is Air One in Anchorage.”

Aw. Dodge made a face, looked at the sky.

“Aren’t you some hotshot chopper pilot?” Deke asked.

Dodge angled a look at him. “Not fair, and no. Taliban rebels are no match for a Denali snowstorm.”

But still . . . grizzly attack. Someone had to go. And Sky King Air was one of the few outfits that had a chopper as well as planes.