He gripped Taylor’s hand again. “Listen,” he said. “I’ll get you settled, but then I have to go find us a couple of things. I promise I’ll be back quickly, though, okay?”
Taylor nodded weakly, unable to argue.
Jake unrolled the sleeping bag he’d brought. He unzipped it and spread it wide like a blanket, then helped Taylor scoot over on top of it.
He told Cody, “You stay with Taylor,” but the terrier had already curled up protectively next to Taylor on the sleeping bag.
Jake emptied Taylor’s day pack and stuffed their father’s journal and the trenching tool inside. Then he set out toward a pine-covered hilltop a quarter of a mile away.
Jake wasn’t sure what he would find, but along the trail he spotted several yarrow plants, with wispy grayish leaves and constellations of tightly spaced white flowers. He flipped through his dad’s journal to make sure he was remembering correctly, and then he tore out several of the plants and stuffed them into Taylor’s day pack.
Reaching the pine-covered hilltop, he again pulled out the journal, looking for other plants that might help. At first he didn’t see much. Then he stopped and examined a low-growing prickly leaved plant with green berries on it. He was pretty sure he remembered it, but he checked the journal again to make sure.
“Oregon grape,” he said. “Bingo.”
Pulling out the trenching tool, he began digging up several of the plants, cutting off and saving their yellow roots. When he had collected about a pound of them, he hurried back to the cave.
When he got there, Taylor looked even worse. The bleeding on his leg wound had stopped, but had begun to crust over, and the flesh around it looked red and inflamed. Taylor moaned softly, but he didn’t seem fully conscious.
Jake built a small fire at the entrance to the cave, filled the small pot with the last of the water he’d brought, and set the pot at the edge of the flames. He pulled out the yarrow plants and began crushing them into a paste that he placed on some gauze from the first aid kit. When the water had almost boiled, he poured some of it over the gauze to form a kind of warm poultice that he placed directly onto Taylor’s wound.
Taylor sat up and yelled with pain.
“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Jake soothed. “I’m just putting some medicine on your wound. Lie back down.”
When he and Cody had gotten Taylor settled again, Jake crushed up the Oregon grape roots and added them to the rest of the hot water in the pot. He let the mixture steep and then strained the tealike mixture into the metal cup Skeet had given him.
When it had cooled, Jake tried a little of the drink himself. The tea tasted bitter, but medicinal somehow, and he took it over to Taylor. Jake put his arm under his brother’s back and helped him into a sitting position.
“Here, Taylor, drink this.”
Taylor didn’t seem to know where he was, but his lips parted when Jake pressed the cup against them. His father’s journal had said to use the mixture sparingly, so Jake gave his brother only three or four sips and saved the rest for later. Then he lay Taylor back down and zipped him up in the sleeping bag.
Jake wasn’t sure what the medicines would do—if they would do anything at all.
I should still probably go back and get Skeet, he thought—but he didn’t dare leave his brother right now. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen when they left Pittsburgh to find their father. Jake was supposed to be making them safer, not putting them in even more danger. Exhausted from being up for more than twenty-four hours straight, Jake used his backpack as a pillow and lay down next to Taylor and Cody.
Please let Taylor be all right. Please! he prayed as he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
22 The next morning Jake woke to Taylor’s moans. While the light was just beginning to creep over the horizon, he decided he’d better refill their empty water bottles and the cooking pot. He rebuilt the small fire outside of the cave and then turned to Cody.
“You keep standing guard,” Jake said. The terrier seemed to understand, and he didn’t budge from Taylor’s side.
Jake had to hike more than a mile back to a stream he’d crossed earlier. Along the way he stayed alert for signs of the bobcat, but he saw only a small group of elk a quarter mile off the sheep trail. After refilling their water bottles and the cooking pot, he returned to Taylor’s side.
His heart pounding, he laid his hand on Taylor’s forehead. To his relief, the skin felt cool from the morning mountain air, and no longer burned with fever. Jake bent over to listen to his brother’s now regular breathing.
Thank you! Thank you! he prayed, though not sure exactly to whom. He also thanked the world for his dad’s journal—without it, the situation could have been deadly.
Jake set about building a new fire and was feeding a dead pine bough onto it when he heard Taylor weakly call, “Jake?”
He turned to his brother. “Taylor, how are you feeling?”
“Hungry.”
Jake laughed.
“Is it morning?” Taylor asked. “Did the bobcat come back?”
“Yes—and no. You had a fever most of the night, but you look better now. Let me help you sit up.”
Jake helped Taylor into a sitting position.
“I feel woozy. What’s this on my leg?” he asked, reaching down to the poultice.
“Some medicine—from yarrow plants.”
“You did this?”
“Yeah. Now just relax while I make us some food.”
Jake made Taylor drink more of the cold Oregon grape concoction, then boiled more water and stirred in a seven-grain cereal mixture Skeet had given him. Jake watched with relief as Taylor bolted down the meal, and afterward Jake helped his brother stand up.
“Do you think you can walk?”
Taylor took a couple of shaky steps.
“Just about,” Taylor said, grabbing on to Jake’s arm.
“Awesome,” Jake said. “In that case, we should get back to Skeet before he sends out a search party!”
Jake cleaned up their camp, and the boys slowly set out back along the sheep trail. They reached the cabin just before noon, and they were surprised to find Skeet missing. Fifteen minutes later, though, they heard the Green Monster rumble up the mountain track. Jake and Cody went out to greet him.
“Did you find Taylor?” Skeet asked, leaping out of the truck.
“Yeah. He’s inside resting on your bunk,” Jake said, explaining what had happened.
Skeet clapped him on the back. “I think you’ve got the makings of a first-class mountain man, Jake—or medicine man, at least. Let’s go take a look at him.”
Skeet and Taylor went inside, where Skeet carefully removed the poultice from Taylor’s leg to take a look. “You did a nice job with this, Jake. Still, I think we ought to run Taylor down to the clinic in town, maybe get him some antibiotics and have them clean out the wound properly.”
Jake and Taylor nodded.
“Also, I may have some good news for you,” Skeet added.
“What’s that?” Taylor asked, sitting up on Skeet’s bed.
“Well, I ran into town this morning for a few supplies, and also wanted to see if anyone might be looking for you boys. Stopped by a friend of mine at the park ranger office.”
“You didn’t tell him about us, did you?” Jake asked, alarmed.
“Now, calm down. No, I didn’t. I just told him I was there to say hello and asked if he’d been busy lately. However, it wasn’t two minutes before he told me they were looking for two boys and a dog, and that apparently, someone had dropped by saying there was some news about their mother.”
“Mom!” Taylor shouted, his eyes darting to Jake.
Despite his brother’s enthusiasm, Jake saw red flags. “How did he know that?”
“I don’t really know,” Skeet answered. “I imagine he got some kinda alert through a social services agency, or maybe it came through the police.”
“What does it matter, Jake?” Taylor said, lowering his feet to
the floor. “Maybe Mom’s okay. Maybe we can get her to come out and join us once we find Dad!”
“I don’t know. . . .”
Cody jumped up next to Taylor and did a little dance, sensing excitement in the room.
“What’s not to know?” Taylor pressed. “Maybe Mom’s looking for us.”
“Taylor,” Jake said. “It could be a trap. What if they just want to catch us and send us back to Pennsylvania?”
Taylor turned to Skeet. “Do you think it’s a trap?”
Skeet stroked his beard. “This isn’t my area of expertise,” he answered. “But I think it might be worth checking out. I could drive you into town for a look around. If things seem sketchy, we can skedaddle on outta there.”
“Jake, c’mon!” Taylor pleaded.
Jake’s stomach clenched, but he also still felt guilty about his fight with his brother the day before.
Reluctantly, he nodded. “Okay, but we have to be careful.”
Taylor stood up and hugged his brother. “It’s going to be all right. You’ll see!”
After the boys packed up their things, Skeet drove them and Cody into town. He parked at a diner at the far end of the small street of businesses. “Okay,” he said. “The rangers’ office is right down the street, past that motel. I’ll grab some coffee in here while you boys check it out.”
“Can Cody stay with you?” Jake asked. “It might attract more attention if he’s with us.”
“Sure,” said Skeet. “Cody and me’ll come back and wait in the Green Monster. Afterward, we’ll run Taylor by that clinic, make sure his leg is okay.”
“Thanks,” Jake said.
The boys left their large packs with Skeet, but Jake took the day pack that held their dad’s journal, Bull’s cash, and a couple of other items. Jake felt his heart beat faster as they made their way down the sidewalk. He didn’t like that someone was looking for them—the authorities, at that—but they had to find out about their mom; Taylor had been right.
“How we gonna do this?” Taylor asked as they continued down the sidewalk toward the rangers’ office.
“I should probably go in by myself,” Jake said. “You stay outside, and if anything happens, run back to Skeet.”
“Or maybe I should just go in with you?”
“Well . . .,” Jake began as they approached the motel Skeet had pointed out. “That’s probably a good idea, except . . .”
“Except what?”
But before Jake had time to answer, he spotted a black truck parked on the corner, set back from the main road. Jake froze, and a wave of nausea washed through him. He recognized the truck; he would have recognized it anywhere. But he couldn’t believe it. It didn’t matter now that they were hundreds of miles away from home; he’d found them.
It was a trap! Jake screamed inside his head, watching as the stocky surly figure of the man they thought they’d left behind forever stormed out of the truck and slammed the door behind him.
“Bull!” Taylor said, and gasped, grabbing Jake’s arm.
“Quick, Taylor, run!” Jake shouted, springing into action, already turning away.
“Jake, I can’t!” Taylor cried, and in the next instant, Bull fell upon them. Rushing around the truck’s bumper, Bull grabbed the boys by their arms, practically growling with anger.
“Well, look who we have here!” he sneered.
“No! Get off of us!” Taylor cried, trying to wriggle his arm out of Bull’s clutches. But it was no use. Before Jake or Taylor could react, Bull hustled them to one of the nearby motel rooms, pushed open the door, and threw the boys onto the bed, slamming the door behind him.
“How considerate of you boys to show up,” Bull said, leering over them. “And to think, I just happened to book me a room right here. Gotta say, fortune favors the well-prepared.”
“What are you doing here?” Taylor said, gasping, unable to believe who was standing in front of him.
The grin on Bull’s face turned mean. “What do you think I’m doing here, you little snots? Once I realized you’d taken my cash and run away, it wasn’t all that hard to follow you. You left clues across half the country—your picture is up everywhere. And lucky ol’ me is the one to find you . . . and now I want my reward.”
“What are you talking about?” Jake cried.
“You got a big chunk of money of mine, and I want it back—now!”
“You can’t do anything to us—we know you shot that guy!” Taylor told him. “The rangers’ office already knows we’re here and the rangers are looking for us—we’ll tell them everything!”
Bull laughed. “Oh, please. Just who do you think talked to them in the first place? I knew you’d come crawling out of the woodwork once I mentioned your mommy.”
Jake groaned inside, his worst fears realized.
“Where is she?” Jake asked.
“You beat her up, didn’t you?” Taylor demanded.
Bull scoffed. “What do you think? And if you don’t give me my dough, I’m gonna do a lot worse to you.”
Bull reached for Jake’s day pack, but Jake ripped it away. As he did so, the zipper on the pack tore open, and a few pages from their father’s journal fell to the floor, including the letters to their mom. Jake sprang to the far side of the bed.
“What’s this?” Bull laughed. “Moose Island? Wildflower Waterfall? Your dad really was a crackpot!”
“Stay away from us, Bull!” Jake shouted.
“Enough of this crap,” Bull growled as he pulled out the pistol the boys remembered all too well, and pointed it directly at Jake. Taylor scooted back, shielding his brother.
“Leave him alone, Bull!” Taylor shouted.
“I’ll shoot both of you right now if you don’t hand over that pack. I need that money!” Bull demanded.
Giving Bull’s money back was the last thing Jake wanted to do, but he also knew he and Taylor were trapped. He unzipped the pack the rest of the way and removed the large Ziploc bag containing the money. Leaving the pack on the bed, he stepped around the end of it and handed the bag to Bull.
Bull’s eyes gleamed as he took the money.
“You got what you want,” said Jake. “Now leave us and Mom alone!”
Bull sneered. “Oh, I’ve got the money. But you brats and me still got some unfinished business.”
Bull raised the revolver, preparing to strike Jake in the face with the gun. As Bull’s arm began to swing, however, Jake heard a slapping sound and something sing through the air.
Bull cried out, dropping the gun and clutching the side of his face. Jake’s head whipped around to see Taylor holding Jake’s slingshot in his hand.
Bull bellowed and doubled over in pain, blood dripping through his fingers. Without thinking, Jake ripped a table lamp out of the wall socket and raised it high in the air before bringing it down hard over Bull’s head. The big man collapsed onto the floor with a sickening thud.
Jake stared in horror at the scene. The man he’d feared for so long was laid out in front of him, crimson drops beginning to stain the shabby motel carpet.
“Oh my God,” he muttered.
“Quick, Jake, we have to go,” Taylor cried, tugging at Jake. But Jake, letting the lamp slip from his fingers, was rooted to the spot.
“I’m serious, Jake,” Taylor cried. “We have to move now!”
Jake just stared, wide-eyed. What have I done?
23 Taylor grabbed the Ziploc bag full of money back from Bull and stuffed it into his pack. More pages and letters flew from his father’s journal, landing on the floor—he scooped them up and shoved them in too.
“C’mon!” he said again to Jake.
“Is he dead?” Jake asked, staring down at Bull.
“I don’t know—and I don’t want to find out! We gotta go!”
All the color had drained from Jake’s face, but the sight of Taylor bustling into action snapped him back to reality. They couldn’t hang around here. Not now.
Grabbing their things, Jake and
Taylor raced through the motel room door, leaving Bull and his black truck behind.
As they ran back up the street, checking behind them as they went, they saw Skeet up ahead emerging from the Green Monster. Even from a distance, they could tell he had a worried frown on his face.
“You boys okay? What happened?”
“We need to get out of here.” Jake gulped, desperately trying to look less flustered than he felt.
“Why, what—” Skeet began, but Jake just cut him off.
“Now!”
They all piled into the truck, and Skeet headed directly out of town. As they drove, Skeet asked what happened.
Jake stalled. “They didn’t know anything about our mom.”
“What did they say? Why are you so worked up?” Skeet continued. Jake felt like his mind was going into overdrive—the image of Bull on the floor of the motel room just kept on coming back to him, and he was beginning to break out in a cold sweat.
Taylor kept quiet and looked anxiously up at Jake, but Jake remained in a kind of trance, staring out the window.
Skeet nodded. “Fine—if that’s how you want it. Maybe I should just drop you off at the police station—let them take care of you.”
“No!” Taylor said. “We’ve got to find our dad. If we go to the police, we’ll never find him.”
“Boys, I don’t know. . . .” Skeet said.
“Taylor’s right,” said Jake, suddenly frantic. “Skeet, please, we’ve come this far! Please. You have to help us!”
Skeet continued driving. “Do you even know where to look?”
“Not exactly.” Jake fumbled his words. “But at the cabin, I studied my dad’s notes and your maps, and I think I narrowed it down.”
Jake told him what he’d figured out, while Skeet mulled it over. “Well, that’s a pretty well-known spot, but it’s not easy getting there. There’s no way to drive to it.”
“Can you get us close?”
Wilder Boys Page 14
