by Hodder, Beth; Ore, Florence; Zoellner, Guy; Vekkos, Maria
The Ghost of Schafer Meadows
By Beth Hodder
ALSO BY BETH HODDER
Stealing the Wild (2010):
2011 WILLA Literary Finalist
2011 Moonbeam Children’s Book Awards Silver Medalist
2011Purple Dragonfly Award First Place Winner, Children’s Chapter Books
Praise for The Ghost of Schafer Meadows
"The fast action and quick thinking skills of a resilient heroine make for excellent entertaining fiction for young (and older) adults.
--Children's Bookwatch: August 2010, Midwest Book Review
*****FIVE STARS! Author Beth Hodder brings her career as a Forest Ranger to vivid and colorful life, teaching about the wilderness through the eyes of a smart girl on the verge of becoming a teenager. Filled with suspense, mystery, a haunting ghost, and a bit of danger, this story is sure to please!*****
--Detra Fitch, Huntress Reviews
"Beth Hodder captures the heart of readers with her strong characterizations and her obvious zest for the great Northwest wilderness. With bold honesty, Hodder accurately portrays the highs and lows of a teen who is suddenly taken from her friends and the convenience of city life and placed in what many would call hardship conditions. The Ghost of Schafer Meadows is a good coming-of-age read for anyone interested in outdoor life, adventure and solid family connections.”
--Mary Trimble, Spur Award winner for Tenderfoot.
The Ghost of Schafer Meadows
Beth Hodder
Copyright 2007
ISBN: 9780979396304
This book is available in print at stores, through online retailers, and through Grizzly Ridge Publishing, P.O. Box 268, West Glacier, MT 59926
Cover Illustration by Maria Vekkos
Map of Schafer Meadows by Guy Zoellner
Interior Design and Typesetting by Donna Collingwood
Manuscript Editing by Florence Ore
For more information: www.grizzlyridgepublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. Names and characters in this novel are the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, are used fictitiously without any intent to describe their actual conduct. Institutions and places in this novel are real. However, the political and administrative settings of this novel are not meant to represent the actual policies of any institution or law enforcement agency.
For Al
In memory of Ruth Hodder, mother and friend, who believed I could do it
In memory of Penny and Jasper
Table of Contents
Chapter One - Spotted Bear Ranger Station
Chapter Two - The Swimming Hole
Chapter Three - Schafer Meadows
Chapter Four - The Ghost of Schafer Meadows
Chapter Five - The Ranger's House
Chapter Six - The Pilot
Chapter Seven - The Light
Chapter Eight - Flying
Chapter Nine - Break-In at the Food Cache
Chapter Ten - A Trail Mess
Chapter Eleven - Law Dogs
Chapter Twelve - Another Mystery
Chapter Thirteen - The Snack
Chapter Fourteen - The Storm
Chapter Fifteen - A Ghostly Intruder
Chapter Sixteen - Oriole's Note
Chapter Seventeen - The Horse Camp
Chapter Eighteen - Just Desserts
Chapter Nineteen - Top to Bottom
Chapter Twenty - Home
O N E
Spotted Bear Ranger Station
“Great! Just great!” I said to Oriole, loud enough for Mom and Dad to hear. “For this we left our home and friends in New Mexico?”
Oriole looked up at me, her black ear and eye cocked to the side as if wondering what was wrong.
Dad’s job with the U.S. Forest Service moved our family all over the country. This time he dragged us to Montana, about as far north from New Mexico as you could get. We might as well have moved to the other side of the world as far as I was concerned.
We’d just arrived at the Spotted Bear Ranger Station, where my dad had to report for his newest job. From there we’d go to our summer home at the Schafer Meadows Ranger Station within the Great Bear Wilderness.
“Look at this place,” I said to my tall, lanky 16-year-old brother. “It’s disgusting. If Schafer Meadows is anything like Spotted Bear, I’m gonna die there.”
Jed bent down to Oriole and scratched her yellow ear. The visor on Jed’s ever-present black cowboy hat hid his blue eyes and black hair. “I don’t know, Jessie. Looks pretty cool to me. You’re just mad because we had to move again. But if our home in Silver City had looked like this, you’d love it here.”
“What do you mean? Spotted Bear’s just a bunch of old log cabins at the end of a dusty gravel road miles from nowhere. Talk about primitive. And look at these mountains. See that white stuff up there? It’s snow—snow! That means cold. I miss the desert.”
“Jessie, won’t you even give it a chance?” Dad’s dark eyes showed the pain I had put there.
“Come on, Dad, think about it—there aren’t many 12-year-old girls who get stuck living in a wilderness. And only adults work at Schafer Meadows. How will I make friends?”
“You always make friends easily, honey. The folks at Schafer may not be your age, but I know they’ll like you right away. And don’t forget you’ve got Oriole. You’ve met a lot of people because of her.”
“Yeah, well, Oriole’s all I’ve got now. You’ve taken me away from my home and my best friends. What could be worse?”
A gust of wind blew Mom’s silky blonde hair. She pushed it away from her face and looked at me through blue eyes. “It won’t be that terrible if you try.”
“Oh, yes it will. Once we go into the wilderness there won’t be any TV, cell phone coverage, Internet, cement for skateboarding—nothing. We won’t even have electricity. How isolated can you get? We’ll lose all touch with civilization.”
The tears came close to spilling over. Nobody cared how I felt—not Dad, Mom, not even Jed. I swallowed a lump in my throat.
I was on a roll and ready to let out more of my anger when we reached a long natural-colored log building that said “office” on the outside. We stood just inside the door. A young woman with curly brown hair sat at a desk behind a counter. Maps filled the wall behind her and a giant grizzly bear hide hung high above them. A Forest Service radio squawked. Through the static we heard a man call Spotted Bear. The woman grabbed the microphone and talked back. She smiled, waved us into the office, and raised a finger, indicating that she’d be with us shortly.
Finally she finished her conversation. “Sorry about that. We have no phone service in the wilderness, so the radio is our main communication line. There’s something going on with law enforcement, and I had to relay some messages. How may I help you?”
“I’m Tom Scott, the new ranger at Schafer Meadows,” Dad said. “This is my wife, Kate, son, Jed, and daughter, Jessie.”
The woman stood up and came around the desk, extending her hand. “Oh, hi, Tom. Glad to meet you. I’ve heard lots about you and your family.”
She shook all of our hands. “And I’m Cindy Miller. You’ll probably hear me on the radio a lot this summer when you’re back at Schafer Meadows. I’m so envious of you going to live there. It’s a great place—one of the best—beautiful and wild. It even has a resident ghost.”
By the look on her face, I could tell she thought she had said the wrong thing, but as if to cover up her mistake, she shrugged and said, “Hey, doesn’t every place have a ghost?”
I was about to ask what she meant when a whine came from outside. I hurri
ed to the door. “Sorry. The whiner is my dog, Oriole.”
“Oh, I love dogs,” Cindy said as she walked to the door to look out. She went outside and stooped to scratch Oriole’s ears. Oriole’s back leg involuntarily scratched in response. “Look at those marks on her. She’s beautiful. What kind of dog is she?”
I smiled down at Oriole, whose shiny light yellow coat contrasted sharply with her black left eye and ear and black chest. “Hard to say. Dad got her for me from the animal shelter this past winter when she was only eight weeks old. They think her mother might have been a Labrador or golden retriever. Maybe she got the black color from a German shepherd or hound of some sort.”
“Interesting. With your brownish blonde hair and brown eyes, you two compliment each other well. How’d she get her name?”
I grinned. “Mom and I love to watch birds, and I thought my puppy looked a lot like a Hooded Oriole—you know—yellow, with black markings on her face, ear, and neck. She was such a tiny thing, kind of like a bird. And her little voice warbled like one. She’d go ‘Rooooo.’ So I named her Oriole.”
“Smart?”
“The smartest. She learns most things fast, many after the first try.” I bent down to pat her head. “She’s the best.”
“Well, she’s sure sweet. You can bring her to visit me anytime.”
“What’s up with the law enforcement problem?” Jed asked.
“It’s not really a problem—not here anyway. Some of the sheriff’s deputies are camping and fishing in the wilderness for the weekend, and the sheriff is trying to reach them. I’m not sure why. Might be some trouble in Kalispell or something. Let me get the district ranger—the boss—for you.”
******
A dark-haired woman wearing a sage green Forest Service uniform and cowboy boots stuck out her hand in Dad’s direction. “Hi, Tom. I’m Rosie Anderson.”
Rosie looked about the same age as Mom and Dad. I’m only 5’0” and 85 pounds, but she didn’t look like she weighed much more than me. I wondered how she could handle the hard physical work she’d have to do in this remote place.
Taking us all in, she smiled. “Welcome to Spotted Bear. How was your trip?”
“Good,” Dad said. “Everything went without a hitch. And the drive was spectacular.”
We must have been on different trips, I thought as I glared at Dad. We drove for five long, horrible days pulling a large horse trailer packed with hay and our belongings. Oriole hogged the back seat, so Jed and I sat pinned against the doors most of the way. We had to unload the mule and four horses from the trailer a couple of times a day, water them, and shovel manure. Talk about stink! Whooee! Oriole needed exercise, too, and I had to watch her carefully in areas of heavy traffic. All this work made my muscles scream, and the four of us looked like we’d not had a shower in a month—probably smelled like it, too.
“Well, I’m glad you made it here safely,” Rosie said. “I’m sure you’re plenty tired after your long trip. Would you like to rest or are you up for a tour of the ranger station?”
After driving so long we were glad to be standing, so we opted for the tour. Oriole raced around, sniffing everything in sight, as if also happy to be out of the car.
Spotted Bear looked like a small old western town surrounded by high mountains. As we slowly walked, Rosie pointed out log buildings, some from the 1920s, all painted dark brown with white-trimmed windows. There were bunkhouses for crews and a big cookhouse for large groups and meetings. We also saw a couple of larger brown frame houses. Rosie pointed to one.
“When you’re at Spotted Bear you’ll live in that house along the river,” Rosie said. “There’ll be plenty of room for the four of you and Oriole. Oh, hey! Here are a couple of people I want you to meet.”
A boy and girl about my age walked toward us. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. The boy, close to my height, had sandy brown hair. The girl was tall and dark-haired. She wore thin round glasses.
Rosie called them over. “Jessie, this is Will Lightner. His dad works here. And this is Allie Carter, a friend of Will’s. They’ll both go to school with you this fall.”
All of a sudden I felt shy. Will was even cuter than Johnny Ricardo from my seventh grade class in Silver City, New Mexico, and Allie looked really friendly. I couldn’t seem to say anything. Finally, Will spoke.
“Hey, Jessie. Rosie told Allie and me you were coming.”
Somehow I found my voice. “Yeah, well, glad to meet you.”
“Maybe I’ll get to see you this summer at Schafer Meadows. Dad sometimes goes there and takes me along.”
“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”
“Mind if we tag along?”
“That’d be great.”
My luck seemed to be changing. It might not be so lonely here after all.
“Cool dog,” Allie said. “Can I pet her?”
“Sure. She loves people.”
Will threw a stick for Oriole. “I’ve got a dog that would probably get along great with your dog.”
“I hope they can meet soon. Oriole needs a playmate, too.”
Both Allie and Will played with Oriole as we walked along.
Rosie stopped at a tall two-story log building. “Crew leaders live here when they’re not in the wilderness.”
She took us down a small hill to a door in the basement. Unlocking the door, she said, “This is the food cache.”
“You need cash for food?” I asked. “Why?”
Rosie shook her head. “Guess I need to explain. ‘Cash’ means money, but a ‘cache’—pronounced the same way—is a place to store things. We needed somewhere to keep all our produce and dry goods, so we turned the basement into a food cache.”
“Wait’ll you see this place,” Will said. “It’s huge.”
“Why’s it so big?” I asked.
“You can’t just go around the corner to get a gallon of milk or a candy bar or something. The closest grocery store’s about two hours away.”
“Right,” Rosie said. “So we have to keep lots of food on hand. We supply all the groceries for the wilderness crews and keep the backcountry cabins and ranger stations stocked with basic supplies. This cache acts like a cellar where we keep food until it’s ready to be taken into the wilderness.”
Rosie opened the door. “Come on in.”
“Wow,” Jed said as we walked in. “It’s like a small store. I can’t believe all the food—canned, boxed, even fresh and frozen. There’s everything in here.” Jed has a big appetite, so this made him very happy.
“Told you it was big,” Will said.
“And look at all the nuts, grains, beans, pasta, and other dry goods,” Mom said. “This is impressive.”
“You’ll get your groceries for Schafer from here,” Rosie said.
Allie picked up a jar of grape jelly. “Once I got to watch the packers bundle the food. They had to wrap everything like this jelly jar really well so nothing got damaged or broken when the mule strings took it into Schafer.”
“Our food comes in on mules?” I asked. “Why?”
Will laughed. “You can’t drive to Schafer. There aren’t any roads in the wilderness—only trails. Without the pack strings you’d have to carry everything yourself.”
“No way. It’d take us all summer just to haul our food and gear.”
“It would,” Rosie said. “So the mules do the work for you. Some of our mules carry as much as 200 pounds on their backs. We tie nine of the big critters to each other in a single file string with one person or ‘packer’ leading them up a trail. Believe me, you’ll be grateful to see eggs arrive unbroken after riding for 20 miles in a pack on the back of a mule. Those long-ears have even carried in refrigerators.”
“I can’t imagine a refrigerator riding down a trail on a mule. That must be something to see.”
“Want to see the barn?”
“Thanks,” Dad said to Rosie, “but we can probably take it from here. I think we’ve gotten a pretty good feel for the ranger st
ation. Maybe we should let you go and we can unload our animals and move into our house.”
“That sounds great, Tom. I need to get back and contact the sheriff’s office and get a few other things done before the end of the day. You can keep your horses and mule in the corral until you go to Schafer.”
To Jed and me she said, “Make sure you go down to the South Fork of the Flathead River. I think you’ll find it pretty interesting. The South Fork runs behind your house.”
We were walking away when Will said, “Hey, Jessie. Want to come with me and Allie to my house? You can bring Oriole.”
I looked between Dad and Mom. “Can I go?”
“Sure,” Dad said. “We’ll meet you at the house later. Have fun.”
******
Will’s cabin was small with a steeply peaked roof and a lot of fancy decorations or “gingerbread” on the outside. As we entered, Will said, “My mom died when I was eight, so I live here with just my dad and Casey.”
The downstairs had a small living room, kitchen, and bathroom. A narrow spiral staircase led up to a loft. We all climbed the stairs. Two beds and two dressers filled the wall space. A dog bed lay on the floor next to one bed. Oriole sniffed the bed all over, wagging her tail.
“Is Casey your brother?” I asked.
“No, he’s our dog. Dad uses him for law enforcement work. He’s great. I’m sure he and Oriole will have lots of fun together.”
“Where are your dad and Casey now?”
“Dad got called out this morning and won’t be back until later today.”
“Maybe we can meet them when they get back.”
“Not this time. As soon as Dad gets back we have to leave for some meeting he has in Kalispell.”
