He told Coyote how he must perform the task, and what he should do when he reached the valley. “This is a great responsibility,” Sin-a-wavi said. “Do not open the bag! Not for any reason. Not until you come to the sacred ground in the valley.”
“What is this that I must carry?” asked Coyote.
“I will say no more about it,” Sin-a-wavi answered. “Go now, and do as I have told you.”
Coyote was young and foolish, and full of curiosity. “What is this that I am carrying?” he kept asking himself. As soon as he was over the first hill and out of sight, he stopped. He thought he might just peek into the bag. “That couldn’t hurt anything,” Coyote said to himself.
He untied the top of the bag and opened it just a little bit. Suddenly, creatures rushed to the opening. They were people! They jumped out and ran every which way, yelling and hollering in all kinds of languages.
Coyote tried to grab them and stuff them back into the bag, but there were too many of them, and they ran too fast.
From the feel of the bag when he got it closed again, Coyote could tell there were only a few of what he started out with left. He went to the sacred valley and dumped them out there. Then he returned and told Sin-a-wavi that he’d completed the task he was given.
Sin-a-wavi searched Coyote’s face. “I see the truth,” he said. “Foolish little brother! You do not know what a fearful thing you’ve done.”
“I tried to catch them!” Coyote confessed. “I was frightened! They spoke in strange tongues that I couldn’t understand.”
Sin-a-wavi said, “Those you let escape will forever be at war with the chosen ones, the Utes. The Utes, even though they are few, will be the mightiest and most valiant of heart. As for the other tribes, they will forever be thorns in their sides.”
Sin-a-wavi, the Wolf, then put this curse on Coyote: “You irresponsible meddler! From now on you will be doomed to wander the Earth at night. On all fours.”
“But then,” Ashley added in her usual voice, “the coyote and the wolf became really good friends and they stopped arguing.”
“I think maybe you made that last part up,” Troy said. “But it was a good story. I liked it. ’Cause the wolf was the boss of everything.”
“I heard it from a Ute Indian storyteller. I tried to say it just like he did, but he sounded better.”
“You did good,” Troy told her.
It was late, close to ten by the big digital numbers on the watch that circled Troy’s bony wrist. Ashley yawned a wide, gulping yawn.
Stretching his arms over his head, Jack said, “OK, it’s time to shut down for the night. Ashley, you need to go to sleep right now.”
“Not yet,” she said. A little smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I want Troy to tell a story.”
“Come on, he’s not going to know any campfire stories. Right, Troy?”
Troy looked up sharply, but remained silent. The fire licked the darkness with orange tongues that darted this way and that. Ashley, too, shifted from side to side, trying to find a comfortable spot.
“Ashley—” Jack began again.
“Yeah, I’ll tell you a story,” Troy broke in. “A real-life mystery. It’s about the last time I heard from my mom.”
Pine sap snapped in the flames as Ashley leaned forward, fixing her gaze on Troy’s face as he began softly, “The last time I heard her voice, she called me on the phone.” His eyes didn’t move off the blue-edged flames. Ashley nodded, encouraging him to go on.
“She was at work, and she said she’d had a really bad day and she wanted to get out of that bar and all the smoke and get to some clean air. She said she’d be late ’cause she was picking up stuff on her way home from work. ‘Don’t eat anything,’ she said, ‘Tonight we’re havin’ hot dogs.’ So I waited and waited. I got hungry, but I didn’t eat—didn’t even drink a soda pop. The clock in our kitchen ticks real loud, and by nine o’clock I wanted to throw that thing across the room. It was raining, real hard. Every time the lightning hit, I looked out my window, up and down our street, hoping I’d see something. She never came.”
“Maybe…I mean, do you think she went to a friend’s house?” Jack suggested.
“Yeah, right,” Troy snapped. “She’s off at a friend’s and doesn’t even think to call me, not for all these days. Get real! Anyway, we don’t have any friends. You don’t get to know people when you move around like we do.”
“How come you move so much?” Ashley had a way of asking things so innocently that people never felt she was prying.
“I don’t know.” Troy shrugged. “My mom’s always saying we’re part gypsy. Anyway, I like living the way we do, just the two of us and nobody else. I’ve stood inside half the bars and bowling alleys between here and New York while I waited for my mom to get off work. Most of ’em were dumps, but some were sort of OK.”
Ashley asked, “Weren’t you ever scared?”
“Of what? I’ve seen guns and knives and drunken fights—up to now, nothing’s hurt us. My mom’s tough. We do what we want and we live how we want. No one tells us what to do.”
Suddenly Jack hit on a possibility. Without thinking, he blurted, “Your dad! What about your dad? Did you tell him your mom’s gone? I mean, maybe she went there, to be where he is.”
“My dad?”
“Do you…I mean—”
Snorting, Troy said, “Yeah, I’ve got one, but I haven’t seen him in so long I can’t hardly remember. It’s weird. The only real memory I have of him is his black leather jacket.”
“His jacket?” Ashley repeated.
“Yeah. He used to wear this really cool bomber one, you know, the kind bikers wear? My mom said that in our neighborhood, somebody’d probably kill him just for what he put on his back.” Troy slid his fingers through his hair, dividing it into dark strings. “The day he left they were fighting about that jacket. My mom told him he had no right blowing $400 on a jacket like that, and he told her he needed something to protect his back ’cause she was always all over him, weighing him down so bad he could hardly move. So my mom said, ‘If that’s how you feel about Troy and me, why don’t you just back yourself right out the door?’ And he said, ‘I’m out of here. But I’m taking the kid.’”
It seemed to Jack as if even the wind got quiet. “So what happened?” he asked.
Troy stared into the fire. “My mom pulled out a kitchen knife. She told him that if he wanted me, he’d have to get by her first. She said nothing in the whole world was as important to her as I was. So he left. I’ve never seen him since.”
“How old were you?” It was Ashley, her voice only a murmur.
“Me? I don’t know.” He counted back, a faraway look in his eyes.
“I guess I was sev—no, almost eight.”
Jack’s thoughts recoiled at the image of a seven-year-old boy watching his mom threaten his dad with a knife. He’d never experienced anything remotely like what Troy had just described. Ashley shouldn’t be hearing stories like these—she didn’t need to have her mind rubbed into that kind of ugliness. It was time to close her off from Troy.
“Hey, guys, it’s getting late.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, hardly feeling the sensation because he’d grown so cold. “Ashley, you need to go to sleep. If searchers don’t find us tonight, we’ll have to get up at dawn and start down the hill.”
He sounded bossy even to himself, but for some reason Jack couldn’t shut it off. “Try to get your feet next to the flames so they won’t freeze, but not so close that you might roll in. And pull the string of your hood as tight as it will go.”
Troy hunkered himself up. The light caught on the zippers of the bomber jacket and made them shine with a diamond hardness. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Wait a minute. I was talkin’ here. You know, your sister’s right, man—you’re a real dictator. What gives you the right?”
The question took Jack by surprise; he felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he stumbled for an answer. “Because—I’m…older.�
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Ashley was staring at him, he could feel it, but he didn’t pull his eyes off Troy’s.
“Not older than me. I’ve got a whole year on you that says Ashley can stay up as long as she wants.”
Jack swallowed. “No, she can’t. I’m in charge. Not you.”
“You’re—in—charge?” Troy drew out the words. “Why? Just ’cause you don’t like me and you don’t like hearing about my life? I saw the way your face got all twisted when I was talking about my dad. You think I’m stupid?”
“You really want me to answer that?” It was a risky thing to say, but Jack was sick of Troy’s tough attitude.
Rising to his feet, Troy took a step. “Oh, so you think you’re better than me, right? You think since you got two parents and a house—you can get over on me ’cause you think me and my mom are just trailer trash. Is that it?”
“Give me a break,” Jack said hotly. “If I don’t like you it’s because you’re a jerk. You blow off me and Ashley—in fact, my whole family! You do whatever you want even if it’s wrong—”
“Wrong? I’ve been wrong?” Troy’s voice shot up.
“Yeah.” Now Jack jumped to his feet and stood, poker straight. “you take off after a wolf and get us all in trouble.”
“Jack—” Ashley tried to break in, but he waved her off. The battle was between him and Troy. “My parents are probably freaking out right now—”
Troy sliced the air with his hand. “No one said you had to come with me.”
“Right. I let you go, and you find a highway and hitch a ride back—”
“So?”
“So what about my folks? They’re responsible for you—”
“Oh, man, more of that responsibility crap! So someone in Social Services gets a little ticked and your parents get their hands slapped—I don’t care. I was trying to save the wolf’s life! Besides, I got bigger problems,” Troy raged.
“Why is it your problem? You didn’t shoot that wolf!”
“It’s not the wolf! Doesn’t anybody get it? My—mom—is—gone!” His hand made a fist.
Jack noticed but it didn’t matter. He lifted his chin; Troy did the same. The hair prickled on Jack’s head as he waited for the next words, the next move.
“Troy…what happened with your mom…it’s not Jack’s fault.” Ashley’s voice, steady and calm, worked its way between them. “It’s not my fault, and it’s not my mom’s or dad’s—it’s not anybody’s fault. It just happened. And Troy, it’s not your fault.”
The last words seemed to hit Troy right in the gut. A gust of air escaped his lips. The wind blew colder, but he stood rigid, not wanting to make the first move. Slowly, his fist drifted to his side. “I—I didn’t…” He couldn’t finish. Just then, an eerie howl split the night air, lonesome and empty as a train song. Less than 15 feet away a dark shape darted through the trees, melting into one shadow, then another. A rustling, and then a streak of black. The campfire cast enough light for Jack to see two gold-green eyes reflecting in the darkness.
“Troy—Jack,” Ashley breathed. “Look! Look at Silver!”
The wolf’s head had raised almost six inches from the earth, hovering for a moment, straining toward the shape beyond, before sinking back into the ground.
“Over there,” Jack whispered, pointing to a cluster of fir trees. “I bet it’s Silver’s mate. That must have been what you saw before, Ashley. She was out there all along, just watching him.”
“You think so?” Ashley asked softly.
“Yeah—remember how there were two of them this morning? Wolves stay together for life. I bet she’s going to watch over him all night.”
“Hang tough, Silver,” Troy murmured. “She’s with you now. You’re gonna make it. Just hang in there, boy.”
He couldn’t explain how it happened, but suddenly Jack realized that the wolf and Troy and Troy’s mother had all meshed together somehow, and each piece told something about the other, just like Ashley’s story. No wonder Troy had gone after the wolf. Troy had lived through violent times, same as Silver. Both had been wounded. Maybe it was just by a thread, but the two of them were hanging on.
Another thought worked its way through Jack’s mind while they stood, straining to see in the darkness. There was no way Jack could have made it if he’d lived the life Troy had. And if he’d survived, he knew he would have come out of it as prickly as Troy. Maybe, Jack thought with a start, he might have turned out worse. Pulling his jacket tighter, he wondered if this was the reason his dad had decided to bring new people into their cozy world.
The wolf howled again.
“Will she hurt us?” Ashley asked.
“Nah. We just need to stay together.” He hesitated, started to speak, stopped, then started again. “Come on, Troy.”
Troy’s eyes slid onto Jack’s, wary.
“It’s OK. We’ll be safe by the fire.”
Troy looked at Jack for what felt like a long time. “I need to watch Silver,” he said. “I gotta make sure he doesn’t get too cold.”
“I’ll keep moving the fire closer to him,” Jack offered. “Every time I add wood, I’ll string it out so it’s nearer to him. OK?”
“No, I’ll do it,” Troy said. “You can sleep. I’ll stay up all night.”
“We’ll take turns,” Jack told him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
By three in the morning the protective cloud cover had moved away, leaving no barrier against the frigid temperatures that pressed down on the mountain. But it was not the cold that woke Jack.
In his sleep he’d moved nearer to the warmth of the fire, until his face got too close to the ashes and he coughed. Sitting up, he coughed again, and shook his head to clear away the buzzing.
The buzzing continued in his head, like a huge insect, until he suddenly realized that the loud humming was coming from overhead. Jack looked up and scrambled to his feet.
Red and white wing lights of a small airplane flashed alternately, a beacon in the night sky. The plane was circling slowly overhead.
It was all he could do not to cry out or wave his arms. That would be a useless waste of energy; he knew he needed to work fast and work smart. The fire was the only thing that an airplane could see, and right now it had burned low. With shaking hands, Jack quickly threw every piece of brush and tinder he could reach onto the embers. He even dumped on the empty Ritz cracker box, and watched it flare up and then blacken as the letters crumpled inward.
“What…” Troy mumbled, opening his eyes.
“Nothing. Just fixing the fire,” Jack said. “Go back to sleep.”
The flames rose satisfyingly high while the plane still circled. They’ll see it, Jack thought. They can’t miss it. As he watched the light aircraft fly, he moved closer to the fire to warm his cold hands. Troy, who’d been shivering and hugging himself tightly, relaxed a little as more heat reached him. Let them sleep, Jack thought. Why wake Troy and Ashley and get them all excited? If that pilot is searching for us, he’s seen the fire. Otherwise…Plan B. We hike out in the morning.
In a few minutes the plane flew away—in a straight line. That was a good sign. It meant the pilot had decided he didn’t need to search any longer. He was probably already radioing the location to park headquarters, where the rescue team would be packing up to start their trek. More than likely, though, they’d wait for the first bit of daylight.
Jack needed to replenish the supply of firewood since he’d used all of it to make the signal. Trying to step as quietly as he could, he moved farther away than before to where the broken branches and fallen trees hadn’t yet been gathered, using his wimpy little flashlight to pick his way. He was no longer afraid of shadows in the trees. If he heard movement, he’d know what it was—the female wolf. Silver’s mate. Standing guard.
He was no longer afraid of being shot, either, because if anyone out there wanted to shoot him, they’d have done it a lot sooner than this, rather than waiting around in the cold. And he was no longer worried a
bout being lost. The search plane proved that help would soon be coming.
In fact, Jack was feeling pretty good. Firewood lay plentifully on the ground, most of it dry enough to burn. This area had escaped the terrible lightning fires of 1988, when half the park, it seemed, went up in flames. Jack carried armload after armload of wood back to the improvised fireplace. Each time he added fuel, he moved the fire a little closer to the wolf, even though he wasn’t sure whether the animal was still breathing. Then, in the golden haze of the fire, Jack saw Silver shudder.
“Hey, boy,” he whispered softly. Squatting low, he reached out his hand toward Silver’s muzzle. “You OK?”
For the briefest second, Silver’s eyes opened. A small sigh of relief escaped Jack’s lips.
Even though he knew he shouldn’t touch anything that was wild, Jack let his fingers skim the fringe of Silver’s thick coat. What a beautiful animal, Jack thought. In his mind he pictured Silver standing, wind ruffling his coat, on a jut of granite. He felt a surge of, what was it? Awe, yes, awe was what he felt. Up to that second, the wolf had been Troy’s. Now, Jack thought, this wolf belongs to all of us. And to none of us.
“Come on, Silver, you’re gonna make it,” he murmured. “Okay, boy? You’ve got to live.”
Silver’s eyes drifted shut; he breathed shallowly, like a dog panting in the hot sun.
Letting his hand rest on Silver’s head, Jack raised his eyes toward the sky. At their tops, the tall pines seemed to lean together, like people sharing secrets. In the clear circle at the center of the treetops hung a full, white moon. His breath caught at the beauty of it, at the pleasure of being the only one awake to see it all, and at the privilege of being alone with Silver. Let Troy go on thinking it was just the two of them, Silver and Troy. That would be OK, Jack decided.
After returning to where the others lay sleeping, Jack stacked the fire into a nice, safe, steady burn, then curled himself near it. Almost immediately, he slept again.
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