Night of the Black Bear

by Gloria Skurzynski

For a few silent seconds, everyone stared at Jack in amazement. “You…you designed a Johnny Cash record cover? By yourself?” Merle asked.

  “No! No, I mean…I never designed it for real. I just fool around with Photoshop. Like…I change pictures to make them look funny or scary. Then I post them to a blog.”

  “Oh.” They all looked a little disappointed. “Well, let’s see your Johnny Cash cover then,” Corinn told him, pulling a small laptop from a briefcase near her feet. “I brought my computer today so we could go over Arlene’s Dollywood hospital insurance plan. Here, I’ll turn it on for you.”

  Jack wished he’d never mentioned Photoshopping. He felt really stupid as he moved over to the computer Corinn set up on the bedside stand. Taking a deep breath, he signed into the blog and pulled up the picture he’d posted.

  There it was, a CD cover of country music superstar Johnny Cash with his famous black shirt and pants all covered with one-dollar bills Jack had pasted on him digitally. “I call it ‘Cash on Cash,’” he said weakly.

  Their reaction was a big surprise. Corinn, Bess, and Merle burst out laughing, and Arlene cried, “Oooh, let me see! That is so funny. ‘Cash on Cash!’”

  Bess told Jack, “If you did a cover of Merle Haggard, you could make him look haggard—you know, all old and wore out.”

  The others laughed even louder when Arlene said, “How ’bout Martina McBride in a weddin’ gown?”

  Corinn, the younger one, must have sensed that Jack didn’t recognize those names. In a quieter voice she told him, “You’re not from around here, are you, Jack? This is the home of Dollywood and Nashville, the country music capital of the whole wide world. Every one of us Tennesseans grew up listening to country singers and country music, ’cause it’s all about us and who we are.”

  Before Jack had a chance to answer, the phone rang, and Bess picked it up since Arlene couldn’t reach it. “It’s Blue,” she announced. “He says to come right down to the parking lot.”

  After Jack said good-bye to the women, Merle told him, “I’ll walk you down the hall so I can tell Blue I already got a ride to Gatlinburg.” As they ambled slowly, Merle exclaimed, “You’re a real artist, Jack, to do stuff like that. How did you learn it? I wish I could do that, but I don’t have a computer at home.”

  No computer? Jack didn’t know what he’d do without his own computer—it connected him to the world. He took a closer look at Merle, noticing that he wore a sweatshirt and stained pants that might have come out of a thrift shop. His shoes were pretty worn, with the rubber on the side of the soles discolored and cracked.

  Merle’s mother had mentioned that his father was dead. “Your mother works at Dollywood?” Jack asked. “What does she do there?”

  “She’s a groundskeeper. She goes around trimmin’ bushes and sprayin’ bugs and stuff. She won’t be able to work for a while, though. That punctured lung will take a long time to get better. That’s why I’m lucky I got this job.”

  Lucky? It sounded like the only luck they had was bad luck. Just as Jack was about to ask Merle what kind of job he had, he noticed Yonah coming toward them down the hall, walking fast.

  “Uh-oh,” Merle said, just before Yonah caught up to them. “Here comes Yonah the fire-spitter.”

  “You mean Firekiller,” Jack corrected him.

  “Wait ’til you know him better,” Merle said.

  “What’s taking you so long?” Yonah demanded. “My dad’s been waiting in the parking lot.”

  “Tell your dad he doesn’t have to wait for me. I got another ride to Gatlinburg. So back off, man,” Merle told Yonah. To Jack, he said, “It was good meeting you.

  Real good. Your work is cooler than frost. I’d like to see more of it.”

  With that, he was gone, and Jack had to follow Yonah. “Waste of time…coming after Merle,” Yonah was muttering, hotly.

  Jack remembered that Yonah’s mother and Arlene Chapman were supposed to be good friends. Yet Yonah hadn’t even stopped in the room to ask Arlene how she was feeling. What a jerk! Why did Ashley think Yonah was so great? Jack was glad they didn’t have to ride home with him.

  On the way back to their hotel in Gatlinburg, Jack talked excitedly to his parents about Arlene and Merle and Merle’s great singing until Ashley cried, “All right! We get it! He can sing. But Yonah doesn’t like him.”

  “How’d you know that?” Jack asked her.

  “I saw Yonah’s face when he told his dad that Merle wouldn’t be coming home with them. His dad told him to cool it, that it didn’t matter.”

  “Yeah, well if I had to hold an election between Merle and Yonah, I know who’d win.”

  “Enough!” Olivia called back. “Please be quiet for a while. I have a lot of thinking to do.” After a few minutes she said, “We need to watch the evening news to find out what that Greta will say about the bear attacks and the park. I don’t want to miss any of it, so I think we should have dinner in our rooms instead of going out to a restaurant.”

  The Landons were staying in two connecting rooms at the Gatlinburg Lodge, which meant Jack had to share with his sister. Ashley didn’t like that at all, and Jack liked it even less because Ashley was always locking herself in the bathroom so she could mess with her hair. If Jack pounded on the door to make her come out, his mother or father would yell at him to stop.

  That evening, while Olivia was pushing buttons on the remote to make sure she could find Greta’s TV channel, Steven brought all of them Philly cheese steaks and milk shakes he’d ordered from a fast-food place across the street.

  “Here it comes,” Olivia announced just as Jack was licking his fingers after his meal. “The local news is on.”

  And there they were. All four Landons on the television screen, right there in room 112 of the Gatlinburg Lodge.

  “Look at me!” Ashley cried happily. “I’ve never been on TV before.” But it lasted only a few seconds before Greta’s face and voice dominated the program.

  “Good evening, Channel 12 viewers. This afternoon our news team got right on top of a breaking story in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Sixteen-year-old Heather McDonald from Morganton, North Carolina, was mauled by a bear on the grounds of the old Methodist church in Cades Cove.”

  On the screen was a photo of Heather, not all bandaged the way they’d seen her in the hospital, but smiling and pretty, probably from her high school yearbook.

  “Heather McDonald suffered a severe trauma to her thigh,” Greta continued, “where a large portion of her flesh was ripped away from the bone by a black bear. The bear has not yet been identified or caught. This marks the third bear attack in three weeks, two inside the park, and one at the Gatlinburg garbage dump.”

  “Oh, boy,” Steven breathed.

  “Oh, yuck!” Ashley cried, as the screen filled with images of other attack victims whose stories Greta told in full detail. The camera zoomed in on a woman’s bloodied arm, and then shifted to a man holding up his ripped shirt as he pointed to four deep scratch marks that sliced his chest from the collar bone to his belt.

  Jack yelled, “Look! There’s Mom!”

  “Olivia Landon,” Greta’s voice-over told the viewers, “is a wildlife veterinarian from Jackson Hole, Wyoming, who came to the park to confer with other wildlife experts. But Dr. Landon refused to make any statements about a possible reason for this sudden rash of bear attacks in our area.”

  Next came the scene just as Jack remembered it—Greta following Olivia and asking, “Dr. Landon, do you think it’s in the public’s best interest to shut down Great Smoky Mountains National Park?” And Olivia, trying to escape that dangling microphone as she edged toward the car, answering, “Ranger Firekiller has already told you that you’ll need to discuss that with the park superintendent.” The picture zoomed to the Landons’ car driving out of the parking lot, with Jack’s and Ashley’s heads barely visible in the back seat.

  Then came the bombshell. “Channel 12 has learned,” Greta said now, “that Dr. Olivia
Landon is an expert on elks. Not bears, but elks. This reporter wonders why, when visitors may be in real danger from bears at Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Dr. Landon is the person who’s investigating the bear attacks. After all, so far we haven’t been attacked by any elks.”

  “What! What did she just say?” Olivia jumped up from her chair, her dark eyes blazing with anger.

  “Take it easy,” Steven tried to calm her. “Don’t worry about it, honey. She’s just some news person who hasn’t heard about all the animal mysteries you’ve solved at other parks.”

  Olivia wasn’t about to calm down. It wasn’t often that she lost her temper, but when she did, color rose to her cheeks and her five-foot-four height seemed to suddenly stretch by inches.

  “I got called to this park to confer with Kip about elk rehabilitation,” she stormed. “We didn’t know there was going to be a bear attack….” Pointing to Greta on the TV, Olivia vowed, “You just wait! I’ll solve this mystery so fast and so completely that Channel 12 will have to apologize—on the air!”

  Jack couldn’t help grinning. “Way to go, Mom,” he told her.

  “I’m starting right now!” Olivia resolved. “Steven, bring plenty of film tomorrow. Be sure to pack your digital camera, too. We’re going to scour each of the attack locations, and you can photograph them inch by inch. I’ll call Kip and Blue. Kids, why don’t you get ready for bed now. We’ll need to get an early start.”

  “Are you going to bed, too?” Ashley asked.

  “No. I’ll be reading every line of every report about black bears in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Saturday, early, the four Landons headed out in their car. Olivia didn’t look as if she’d been up late reading reports. She looked full of energy and ready to take charge.

  “The plan is to begin with the elk,” she announced, “since, as Greta so pointedly mentioned, that’s my area of expertise.”

  “I don’t want to sound like I’m on Greta’s team, Mom,” Jack told her, “but what exactly are you looking for with the elk?”

  “The possibility that some of the elk might have been infected with the brucellosis bacteria—we know that disease causes problems with elk and cattle in Wyoming. And if a bear were to eat a sick elk calf, could the elk’s disease organisms cause a strange reaction in the bear? There are so many unknowns! Your dad will photograph the whole area for bear tracks and scat or any other evidence.”

  Jack wished he could go along and take pictures with his own digital camera, but other plans had been made for the two Landon kids.

  “It’s real nice of Blue’s wife to let you stay at their house this morning,” Steven commented.

  Ashley nodded as though she totally agreed, but Jack wasn’t too sure. “Will Merle be there?” he asked.

  “I imagine so.” Steven was following the signs to Buckhorn Road, where the Firekillers lived at the top of a hill on the edge of Gatlinburg. He added, “Blue said Merle’s staying with them at least until his mother gets out of the hospital. Maybe longer, if Arlene isn’t strong enough to take care of herself.”

  “Poor Merle. Living in the same house with Yonah,” Jack muttered.

  “Poor Yonah!” Ashley exclaimed. “Living in the same house with Merle.”

  “What do you know! You’ve never even met Merle.”

  Their mother turned to tell them, “You kids be polite to Mrs. Firekiller, and friendly to both Merle and Yonah. And quit arguing!”

  Neither Jack nor Ashley answered, but when their mother turned around, they made faces at each other.

  “Looks like it’s going to be a good day to take pictures,” Steven was saying. “Just a little bit of mist, but that will burn off in an hour or so. Do you have your camera, Jack?”

  “Uh-huh.” He patted the pocket of his zip-up fleece vest. That was the best thing about a small digital camera—it was easy to carry. His father didn’t like digital as much. Steven claimed that real film still turned out the best, clearest, most detailed pictures. But Jack loved his palm-size digital camera because he could upload his shots onto a computer, and then create funny pictures like Cash on Cash. Or grotesque ones like Ashley with a long nose and fangs dripping blood.

  The Firekiller house turned out to be small, but it had a wide fenced-in backyard inhabited by a wildly enthusiastic golden retriever that nearly knocked Jack over when she jumped up to greet him.

  “Down, Lola. Down!” Yonah commanded.

  Jack and Ashley had already said their hellos to Mrs. Firekiller and were outside looking for Merle—that is, Jack looked for Merle. Yonah was showing Ashley four Cherokee masks he’d carved. A wolf, a bird, a deer, and one face mask painted all blue.

  “For the Blue Clan,” Yonah explained, “where my dad gets his name.”

  “You made all those yourself, Yonah? They’re beautiful,” gushed Ashley.

  “This other one is gonna be my favorite when I finish it.” Yonah lifted a half-carved gourd, saying, “I still have to glue on some buffalo hair, plus rawhide and a wild turkey feather. It’s a booger mask.”

  “Booger? Did you say booger?” Ashley giggled and wrinkled her nose.

  “Yeah. Cherokee men do the booger dance to make fun of their enemies.” Yonah held the unfinished gourd close to his face with one hand, slapped his chest with the other and yelled, “Woo hoo! I’ll grind you to dust, Paleface.”

  Just then Merle came out of a shed at the back of the yard, pushing a red bicycle that rattled a bit as it rolled across the grass.

  “I think I got it fixed,” he said. “The chain was loose. Hi, Jack. Is Yonah showing you his boogers? Check his nose—he’s got a lot of boogers.”

  “He’s showing us his fantastic artwork,” Ashley answered, without smiling. “You must be Merle.”

  “Hey, wait here, I want you to see what else I made,” Yonah told them. With Lola tearing around in circles and nearly tripping him, Yonah ran across the yard to the shed Merle had just left. In half a minute he came out carrying four poles that looked like lacrosse sticks, but they were shorter, the heads were narrower, and they were strung with sinews instead of mesh. Tossing a ball into the air and catching it, he asked, “You guys want to play? I can take on both Jack and Merle.”

  “You have four sticks there,” Ashley told him. “Let me play, too.”

  “Hey, I don’t think…,” Merle began.

  Yonah broke in with, “She can if she wants. Cherokee girls have their own stickball teams, and they’re good at the game. I bet Ashley will play great.”

  So this was stickball, not lacrosse. Yonah’s backyard was plenty big enough for any kind of sport, but first Jack needed to find out the rules of the game.

  “You know lacrosse?” Merle asked him. “Stickball’s just another name for lacrosse.”

  “No way!” Yonah scoffed. “Us Redmen played stickball centuries before you rednecks had lacrosse.” The ball he held was not made of rubber, but covered with deerskin. “In a real game, we’re supposed to take off our shirts—” Yonah began.

  “You definitely do not mean me,” Ashley announced.

  Laughing, Yonah answered, “Definitely not you, Ashley. I meant the guys. Indian stickball is played by guys with bare chests and bare feet. But we’ll keep our shirts on because it’s chilly this morning, and we’ll keep our shoes on because Lola uses this yard for her bathroom, and…uh…you get the picture.”

  Jack pulled off his fleece vest, anyway—he felt warm enough in his long-sleeve polo shirt. Merle had on a faded T-shirt with a Detroit Tigers logo. Jack figured he and Merle were supposed to team up against Yonah and Ashley. The blonds against the dark-hairs.

  After Yonah tied Lola to a porch post, he slapped his chest and yelled, “WOOOO HOOOOO. Let’s play!” Scooping up the ball, he flung it against a tree at the end of the yard before Jack even knew that was the goal. Jack found out fast that in this game there was no net, and if the ball hit certain tree branches, that was a score. No
out-of-bounds, no offsides, no boundary lines of any kind, no time-outs, no halftime, no fouls, no free throws. And, “No tackling!” Merle yelled. “There’s a girl playing!”

  And did she ever play! Ashley’s long, dark hair swirled around her shoulders as she picked up the deerskin ball with her webbed stick and ran toward the goal, dodging both Merle and Jack. “How many goals do we need to win?” she shouted to Yonah.

  “Eight!”

  They’d better get serious then, Jack thought. “Hey! I saw her carrying that ball in her hand,” he yelled.

  “That’s allowed,” Yonah shot back. “In Cherokee stickball, after you pick up the ball with your stick, you can grab it in your hand and run.”

  “I know the rules,” Merle muttered, “and I’m not gonna get beaten by a girl. Even if she is cute.”

  Jack turned to stare at Merle. He didn’t see the ball coming until it hit him in the knee.

  “War wound, Paleface!” Yonah yelled.

  “I’m OK!” Jack yelled back, and to Merle, “You’re right. We gotta win this.”

  The game grew intense. Yonah’s sweaty hair kept falling in his eyes, making Jack glad his own hair was cut short. Ashley’s shirt got damp under the arms, and the guys’ faces shone with sweat, especially Merle’s. Since Merle was stockier, he had more weight to move around, and that made him sweat more, Jack guessed. It was a simple game with hardly any rules—back and forth in the yard, picking up the deerskin ball with the sticks, flinging it or running with it. The score stayed pretty even: four goals for Jack, three for Merle, three for Ashley, four for Yonah.

  And then Yonah scored the eighth goal. “We won!” he hollered, throwing his stick into the air and smacking hands with Ashley, who flung back her hair and did a little victory dance.

  After Yonah untied Lola, Ashley laughed and started her dance again, this time with the exuberant dog. The three of them jumped around in a circle, with Ashley and Yonah patting their mouths and shouting “woo woo woo woo” in a war chant, while Lola barked.

  Mrs. Firekiller came out onto the back porch then, carrying a tray. A pretty woman with skin paler than Blue’s or Yonah’s, she had the same thick black hair.