Czytaj książkę: «Mysteries in Our National Parks: The Hunted: A Mystery in Glacier National Park»

THE HUNTED

A MYSTERY IN GLACIER NATIONAL PARK

GLORIA SKURZYNSKI AND ALANE FERGUSON

To Carrie Hunt—

who taught us to believe in the magic of her dreams—

and to her canine partners

Rio, Tuffy, Oso, Eilu, Blaze, Carmen, Yoki, Jewel,

Fancy, Usko, and especially Cassie.

Each day they demonstrate courage, faithfulness, and above all, love.

Text copyright © 2000 Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson

Cover illustration copyright © 2007 Jeffrey Mangiat

All rights reserved.

Reproduction of the whole or any part of the contents is prohibited without written permission from the National Geographic Society, 1145 17th Street N.W., Washington, D.C. 20036.

Maps by Carl Mehler, Director of Maps;

Thomas L. Gray, Martin S. Walz, Map Research and Production

Bear paw art by Stuart Armstrong

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to living persons or events other than descriptions of natural phenomena is purely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Skurzynski, Gloria

The hunted / Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson. p. cm.—(National parks mystery: #5)

Summary: The Landon family travels to Glacier National Park to investigate why grizzly bear cubs are disappearing and becomes involved with a ten-year-old Mexican runaway boy.

ISBN: 978-1-4263-0968-7

1. Glacier National Park (Mont.)—Juvenile fiction. [1. Glacier National Park (Mont.)—Fiction. 2. National parks and reserves—Fiction. 3. Grizzly bear—Fiction. 4. Bears—Fiction. 5. Runaways—Fiction. 6. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Ferguson, Alane. II. Title. III. Series.

PZ7.S6282Hu 2000 99-048124

[Fic]—dc21

Version: 2017-07-06

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The authors are most grateful to the following

staff personnel at Glacier National Park who

so generously shared their expertise:

USGS researcher Kate Kendall;

wildlife biologist Steve Gniadek;

ranger Alison Disque;

chief interpretive ranger Larry Frederick;

ranger Reggie Altop; and

Carrie Hunt of the Wind River Bear Institute.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AFTERWORD

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Heavy metal blared through the cab of the van, so loud it rattled the coffee cup sitting on the dashboard. “Hey, Max, shut off that radio,” the driver shouted.

“Why?”

“Just do it. We ought to be getting sounds from back there about now, but I can’t hear anything over all that music.”

“Yeah, well….” Max looked uncomfortable. “Maybe they shoulda been awake even before this. See, Terry, I…uh…kinda took it easy on the drug.”

“You what?” With a squeal of tires, the van screeched to a halt along the edge of the highway.

“I didn’t want to overdose them. You know, ’cause they’re pretty young,” Max apologized.

“You idiot!” Terry raged, tearing off his dark glasses to shoot murderous glances at Max. “Go back there and check how they’re doing.”

Quickly, Max kicked open the passenger door and ran to the back of the delivery van. Unlocking the double doors, he swung them wide. Then he yelled. “Holy—! You won’t believe this, Terry. You better get back here.”

CHAPTER ONE

Was it happening? Was that what he felt—the first stirring of the earth beneath his hands and feet? Crouched under the hide of a dead buffalo calf, he commanded his tense body to remain still. No movement. Not until the right moment.

Now he was sure he felt it. He began to hear it, too. First a murmur, a muted pounding of thousands of hoofs. Then, like the swelling of ceremonial drums, a growing rumble. Did he dare turn his head to see how close the buffalo were? Better not: One movement too soon might send his own scent, the smell of 12-year-old boy, toward the big bull leading the stampeding herd to the cliff.

Now? The roar of hoofs, the lowing and snorting of the huge animals, the cries of frightened calves—all of it stabbed his hearing and took away his breath.

Now! First scrambling on all fours, then sprinting in a crouch, he bellowed like a lost calf, praying that the lead cow would think he was a calf and turn toward him. Straight for the edge of the cliff he ran, terrified but at the same time exhilarated.

To the shortsighted buffalo dashing at full speed behind him, the ground ahead would appear to rise gently, like a low hill. By the time the buffalo herd finally saw the cliff, saw that the surface dropped off into nothingness, it would be too late. The lead bull and the lead cow would plunge over the edge, with most of the herd following, each animal plummeting through emptiness until they all lay smashed on the rocks beneath.

Just ahead of the panic-stricken animals, the boy himself would leap over the cliff. But he would be safe. If he had great skill, and if the Buffalo Spirit guided him, he would land on a ledge beneath the rim of the cliff.

How many times had he practiced his dash to the precipice? He knew where the ledge was, the jutting tongue of rock that would save him. Yet what if he stumbled, or rolled away from the right spot? He would die, too, broken on the bloody ground far below, next to the dead buffalo.

They were only inches behind him now. The ground’s violent shaking nearly knocked him off his feet. It was the moment—he leaped! Flew over the edge! Landed hard. Clawed with fingers and moccasins to secure his hold on the jagged jut of rock. The hide of the dead calf flew away from him, revealing his own tangle of black hair….

“Hey, who left the door of the camper open?”

“What?” His daydream shattered, Jack Landon pulled himself back to the present. His fantasy of being a buffalo runner faded quickly, like a switched-off TV program.

“Jack, are you listening to me? Close the trailer door and make sure it latches. We don’t want it flying open while we’re driving.”

“OK, Dad.”

The Landons had just spent an hour at the visitor center of Ulm Pishkun State Park, in Montana, learning about the Great Buffalo Jump. A thousand years earlier, buffalo had been stampeded by Native American hunters. Then, after a chase of a mile or more, they were lured to their death by a brave buffalo runner who led them over the same cliff the Landons could see clearly from the visitor center.

Jack had listened to stories about boys no older than he was, boys who disguised themselves under buffalo hides and brought the herd to its destruction. Would he have been brave enough to try that? To plunge off a cliff and risk his life clinging to a ledge while those big buffalo hurtled over his head?

“Hop in the Jeep,” his father called again. “We have a long drive ahead if we’re going to make it to Glacier National Park before dark.”

Jack and his sister climbed into the backseat, each closing the door gently on the side where they sat. It had turned into a contest to see who could close a door more quietly and still make it latch. The game had started earlier on this trip after their parents told them to stop slamming the doors.

Jumping into the front seat, Olivia said, “I’m glad we stopped to find out about the buffalo jump. Now—let’s take off for grizzly bear country.”

“Yahoo!” Jack cried, excited at the prospect of actually seeing a grizzly. He knew the powerful animals were shy, and that he probably wouldn’t see any more than a picture of them in the Glacier visitor center. Still, he could hope. “Mom,” he asked, “how many grizzlies do they have at Glacier?”

“Probably about 200. With this new DNA program in the park, they should get an accurate count pretty soon. Look,” Olivia said, turning in her seat and holding up a newspaper. “There’s an article on page 3 about the bear-identification project. I’m going to meet with the woman heading the research—Kate Kendall. I think she’s quoted in here.”

Jack took the paper, slumped back into his seat, and began to read the Missoula [Montana] Missoulian. It had been published June 24, just the day before. As he opened it to the third page, he tried to fold the pages neatly, but newspapers are like road maps—they always fight back. Soon he grew absorbed in the article.

It was about a U.S. Geological Survey team setting traps throughout the park—not dangerous traps, just barbed wire strung about two feet high. A bear, drawn by a scent lure, would step over the wire to reach the scent. When the bear pulled back, hair from under its neck would catch on the barbs. Project scientists were collecting the bear hair and taking DNA readings of it, using complicated lab techniques to get each bear’s DNA “fingerprint.”

“Will this be part of what you’re doing at Glacier?” Jack asked his mother. Olivia Landon was a wildlife veterinarian who traveled to U.S. national parks when there was a problem with animals.

“I think so,” she answered. “But mostly I’m supposed to figure out why there’s such a shortage of grizzly cubs—one-and-a-half-year-olds, the ones in their second summer. Their numbers are way down, and nobody can figure out why. The whole thing is a real mystery.”

The skin between her eyebrows furrowed as she added, “I just hope I can help find the answer.”

“You will,” Steven assured her, reaching over to rub the back of her neck. “With you, Glacier National Park will get the best help there is.”

Ashley tugged Jack’s arm impatiently. “Hey, are you done with the paper?”

“In a second. I’ll give you the page that tells about the bear DNA project, though.”

Her face clouding, Ashley shook her head, then looked out the window at the open plains rolling by.

The colors were a mix of soft yellows and dusty greens, which stretched endlessly across hills that looked as soft as pillows. Blue sky reached down and touched the tops of the hills, but Jack knew his sister wasn’t interested in all of this quiet beauty. For some reason she didn’t want to look at the article he was trying to hand her.

“What? You don’t want to learn about bears?” Jack prodded.

“No. It’s just—there’s more going on than stuff with grizzlies. All you guys can talk about are bears, bears, bears. I want to think about something else for once.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“If you let me have the paper—”

“What’s wrong, Ashley? Are you scared? Are you afraid a big grizzly’s going to come into the tent and eat you?”

“Stop it, Jack. Don’t be dumb.” Ashley scowled at him, moving as far to her side of the Jeep as she could. For once they had plenty of room. Most often when the Landons drove to the different national parks, they had one or more foster children with them; Olivia and Steven were certified emergency-care foster parents. But on this trip the Landons were alone, and Jack liked it that way.

“OK, Ashley wants us to talk about stuff besides bears. Let’s see, what else is in the paper? Hmmm. What can I find…?” Jack knew Ashley was getting mad, but he couldn’t help teasing. It was in his job description as a big brother. Besides, Ashley had been acting kind of edgy toward him.

“This article says the government is going to dust for tree beetles. Wow, that’s interesting.”

“Knock it off,” his sister told him.

“I’m trying to be helpful.” He gave her one of his biggest smiles, but she just rolled her eyes.

“Mom, will you tell Jack to give me the paper?”

“Hey, here’s something really interesting on the back page,” he commented, still holding the newspaper out of Ashley’s reach. “A Mexican kid, ten years old—that’s the same as you, Ashley—sneaked across the border into the United States three times. Twice he got caught and was sent back to Mexico, but he’s made it across again, and they think he might have come all the way up here to Montana. Uh-oh.”

“What?” Ashley asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“He made it all the way up here, and then…a bear ate him.”

“He was eaten? Are you serious?” Olivia asked, turning in her seat.

“Just kidding, Mom. At least about the bear part. I like to bug Ashley.”

“Well, you’re doing a good job of it,” Steven said.

“Can’t you two share the newspaper?” their mother asked.

“Never mind, she can have it.” Jack tossed the paper at Ashley. “When are we going to stop for lunch, Dad?” he asked. “I’m starving.”

“Jack, we just got started on this leg of the trip,” Steven answered impatiently. “I don’t want to stop for a couple more hours.”

“You’re hungry because you didn’t finish your breakfast,” Olivia told him. “You wasted half your scrambled eggs.”

“I wasn’t in the mood for them.”

Sighing, Olivia said, “Fine. There’s trail mix and bottled water in the tailgate.”

As Jack unzipped a baggie and poured a handful of trail mix, he started to think again about the buffalo, how the tribes used every part of it—the meat for food, the hides for clothes and teepees and moccasins, the horns for bows. Nothing went to waste. Everything had a use, even the tail was used for chasing flies. The buffalo had become the very heartbeat of the tribes.

Jack thought about the buffalo runner, the brave boy who risked his life to help his people. Would he, Jack, have the same kind of raw courage? As the tires purred softly on the smooth highway, he put his head back and drifted once again into his daydream.

CHAPTER TWO

Never in his life had Jack seen quite the shade of shimmering blue that filled Lake McDonald. As he stood with his family on the shore, his eyes swept across crystal clear water the color of turquoise, reflecting sky and clouds. The lake stretched in a nine-mile oval ringed by a forest of thick pine that erupted into gigantic glaciated mountains. Everything around it was heavy with color, from the jewel-like wildflowers that bloomed against the shore to the lavender, blue, and yellow stones that pebbled the ground. The sweet smell of pine filled his every breath. It was perfect.

“Those woods are thick,” Ashley murmured.

“I know,” Olivia agreed. “It’s nothing short of paradise. Have you ever seen water so clear? It’s as if you were looking through glass.”

“Can we swim in it?” Jack asked. After the long drive from Ulm Pishkun, his skin itched with perspiration, and his feet felt hot in their shoes. Ashley, he knew, was just as warm. The Jeep’s air conditioner barely pushed out enough stale air to keep his parents cool in the front seat.

As they’d made their long descent through the mountains into Glacier National Park, Ashley’s nose had pressed flat against the window to search the tightly knit pines for any signs of bears. Out loud she’d wondered how bears could stand the heat with such thick coats of fur, when she could hardly take it in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

Looking around now, Jack saw that although people clustered along the edge of Lake McDonald, not one of them was actually in the water. Fishermen cast off from land or farther out from canoes, their fishing lines catching the sun like long strands of spider web.

“I don’t think you’d like to dive in there,” Steven told Jack, shaking his head. “This is glacial water. You’d have about three minutes before you turned as blue as the lake. Go ahead, put your hand in and check it out.”

Crouching low, Jack thrust his arm deep into water that felt as frigid as an ice chest. He pulled it out again quickly, shaking pearls of moisture off as he grinned and said, “So this is where frozen fish come from.”

“Very funny,” Steven chuckled. “Just make sure your sister doesn’t fall in before we get back. We won’t be long.”

“Daddy, I won’t fall in the lake. I’m not some little kid. Besides, where are you going?” Ashley asked. “If it’s to the gift shop, then I want to come, too. I want to get some bear bells.”

Olivia answered, “Honey, you don’t need any bear bells.”

“But—”

“We’re just going to the visitor center, right over there.” Olivia jerked her thumb at a low-slung log building a few hundred yards behind them. “I’m too grubby to go into park headquarters right now. I’ll be fresher in the morning.” Their mother was dressed in denim shorts and a shirt that had wilted during the long drive. Strands of curly, dark hair escaped from her ponytail, which she shoved under her baseball cap while she spoke. Olivia was so small and trim, Jack thought she could pass for a college student. His father, all bones and angles, towered over Olivia. Steven’s blond hair and blue eyes made a striking contrast to Olivia’s darker coloring. The two of them were so different and yet, Jack realized, the same somehow. Ever since he could remember, it seemed as though his parents worked in tandem. They were a comfortable couple.

“But Mom, listen to me.” Ashley’s voice was rising now. “If we’re going to camp way out in the woods, then we should wear bear bells.”

“Don’t worry about the bells, Ashley. They’re not loud enough for the bears to hear.”

“What are bear bells?” Jack broke in.

“Jingle bells that you strap onto your wrists or ankles,” his mother answered. “They’re supposed to warn a bear that you’re coming through, but it’s better to use your own voice and just call out every once in a while. Remember what I told you, bears won’t bother us if we don’t bother them.”

Olivia arched her back, stretching after the long hours of driving. “Anyway, we’ve got to grab a map before the center closes so we can nail down exactly where Quartz Creek is. Your father wants to photograph the unspoiled beauty of Glacier, which means,” she said, throwing a glance at Steven, “we have a long, bumpy ride ahead of us, through backwoods country.”

“Hey, at least I’m willing to ask for directions.” Steven grinned at her, then added, “How many guys do that?”

“Hardly any, which means you’re this close”—she squeezed her thumb and pointer finger together—“to being perfect.”

“Wow, look at that—I almost made it,” Steven laughed. “OK, kids, we’ll meet you back here at a quarter to. Don’t wander off. We’re going to have to really push to set up camp before dark, and I don’t want to have to go looking for either one of you.”

“Gotcha, Dad.”

After they left, Ashley muttered to herself, “The book says bear bells work.” While she perched on a tree stump close to shore, looking gloomy, Jack chose a smooth, plum-colored stone and skimmed it against the lake’s surface. The rock skipped five times, not bad for a first try.

A flatter, topaz-yellow stone grazed the lake, and he let out a holler. “Hey, Ashley, did you see that? Nine skips—that’s a record for me. Come on and try. I’m telling you, the rocks here are perfect.”

“No thanks,” Ashley answered. With her hand shading her eyes, she peered intently at the west side of the lake. Jack stopped skimming stones long enough to ask, “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

The way she said it, Jack could tell it was not nothing. She was chewing on something in her mind. During the last hour of their drive to Glacier, every mile they’d traveled seemed to subdue her more, as if the mountains themselves were pressing down on her. That was unlike Ashley, who usually jabbered away like a magpie.

“If it’s nothing, then why don’t you come skip a couple of rocks?” he asked her.

“Because I’m thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

Hesitating, she said, “If I tell you, do you promise not to say anything to Mom?” She looked at him, half scared, half defiant. When Jack nodded, she said, “I’m…I’m watching out for grizzly bears. You know how Mom wouldn’t let me read that book Night of the Grizzlies because she said it was too intense? Well, I read it anyway.”

“Ashley—”

“I’m old enough. And I’m glad I did, ’cause even though Mom knows a lot, she doesn’t know everything. You should put on bear bells because a grizzly can charge out of the woods and kill you fast as lightning. Those bears’ll eat you!”

Jack crossed his arms as he studied his sister. He remembered the argument. Ashley had brought the book home from the library, and Olivia had immediately told her not to read it, explaining that she didn’t want it to spook Ashley right before their trip. It was rare for their mother to say no to any book. This one was banned, Olivia said, only until they got back home to Jackson Hole. “Here, Ashley, try reading this instead,” she’d suggested. “It’s a book of Native American legends from around the Glacier area. This won’t give you nightmares.”

Reluctantly, Ashley had taken the folklore book and scanned the first page. She didn’t answer when their mother asked, “Isn’t that better than reading about those gruesome bear attacks?”

“So you’re all freaked, just like Mom said you would be, right?” Jack asked Ashley now.

She nodded miserably. “I can’t stop thinking about it. There’s a few of them in the mountains around Jackson Hole, where we live, but there’s lots more of them up here. Hundreds of grizzlies.” Her eyes squinted as she looked into the distance. “They could be right in those trees, watching us this very minute.”

Jack snorted. “Look, McDonald Inn is right next to us, and behind that is a bunch of cabins, and up the road are two stores and a restaurant plus the visitor center. Quit worrying. There are way too many people around here for a bear to show up.”

“You don’t know anything about it,” Ashley snapped back.

“Well, I know that the attacks in that book happened a long time ago, before we were even born. There’s nothing to worry about. Forget it.”

His sister’s eyes flashed. “Just ’cause I’m younger than you doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about.” Ashley’s lips tightened. Her chin rested on her bent knees, while her toes extended beyond her sandals and curled over the edge of the tree stump she was sitting on. Dark hair skimmed forward to almost hide her face, but even so, Jack could see how pale she looked.

He dropped the fistful of damp skipping stones he’d been holding; they clicked against other rocks on the ground like rain on a tin roof. Walking to where she sat, he said, “What’s going on, Ashley?”

“Nobody ever listens to what I think. It’s like I’m too little, or what I say’s not important. Did you know a girl was in her sleeping bag close to Lake McDonald, and this grizzly went right into her camp and dragged her off and ate her? She was only 18 years old. And on the exact same night, a different girl got chewed up in her sleeping bag, except that was up in a place called Granite Park Chalet only ten miles away. She died, too.”

“That’s sad, but so?”

“So maybe we should buy bear bells. Maybe Mom should stay out of the woods where the grizzlies are. Dad, too. Maybe it’s too dangerous.”

“Mom knows what she’s doing,” Jack countered. “She’s a wildlife veterinarian.”

“People all taste the same to a grizzly.”

Jack wanted to laugh at that, but he pushed down his smile. “Look, this is the first trip we’ve had in a long time without some foster kid tagging along, and I want it to be good. We’re going to camp and fish and hang out with the animals. Can you drop the bear stuff?”

“It’s not just the bears,” Ashley told him, standing up. “It’s that nobody listens to me.”