The Hunted

by Gloria Skurzynski

  The tires made a thudding sound as they rolled across the lowered chain. Slowly the van drove into Jack’s view. When it stopped, both men got out to look around. “I still think it was you,” Terry snarled loudly. “I have an idiot for a partner.”

  “They don’t have a gun,” Jack whispered. “They’re arguing. One of the rangers just moved closer.”

  “I swear,” Max said, “those cubs were inside, sleeping, when I shut the back door. Maybe they fell out when we stopped to open the gate here.” Even across the distance, his voice was loud enough to be heard. “Maybe they wiggled around until they got in the underbrush. Maybe—”

  Terry answered, “You say ‘maybe’ one more time, I swear I’ll knock you flat. Just look around. If they’re not here, we’ll go back to where we loaded them. Whatever happened, they oughta still be in the net, so we’ll find them.” Terry and Max began prodding the underbrush, pulling back branches, peering into the thick stands of trees.

  “Jack Landon, you get down on this floor or you’re going to be in serious trouble,” Olivia hissed. Jack had just lowered the binoculars when, out of nowhere, he heard a faint sound that grew steadily louder. Whistling! Someone was whistling!

  “Wait, Mom.” Jack raised the binoculars again and looked out. He could tell Max and Terry heard the whistling, too. They stood stock still, searching for the source.

  Jack gasped, “Oh no! Not now!”

  Trudging along the path made by the tire tracks was Steven Landon, his lips pursed as he trilled a tune. When he spotted Terry and Max, he slowed down.

  “Mom, it’s Dad,” Jack whispered frantically. “He’s out there. What’ll we do?”

  Olivia scrambled to her feet and snatched the binoculars from Jack’s hand. She didn’t seem to notice that Jack was still at her side. He could see well enough to make out his father’s surprised expression.

  “Hi there,” Steven called out to the two poachers. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Quartz Creek is a closed campground. Is there anything I can help you with?”

  Terry looked Steven up and down, from his floppy-brimmed hat and politely smiling face, past the backpack bristling with tripod and monopod and bulging with camera equipment, to his long, thin, muscular legs and the thick socks and mountain boots. Terry must have been trying to figure out whether Steven was a park employee or just a hiker.

  “Yeah,” Terry answered. “We know how this campground’s shut down.” He stepped forward, his arms closing over his chest so that muscles bulged through his T-shirt. “It’s OK—we’re with the park.”

  When Steven’s brow wrinkled in doubt, Terry jerked his thumb at Max. “Me and my friend Paul, we’re off duty. That’s why we’re out of uniform.”

  “Oh.” Steven nodded a bit uncertainly, eyeing Terry’s Greek fisherman’s hat and mirrored sunglasses. “So you were able to get in here—”

  “With our key,” Max finished, holding it up. “Park people always have keys.” Terry shot him a look, and Max quickly dropped the key ring into his pocket. “Like you just said, this campground is closed. So what are you doing in here?” Terry asked.

  “We—my wife, Olivia, and I—are here because of the bear cubs. You know, the ones that are missing? If you’re with the Park Service, you’re probably familiar with—”

  “Bear cubs?” Terry asked, heat rising in his voice as he moved closer to Steven. “Grizzly bear cubs? You know about that?”

  “Absolutely,” Steven answered. “Is that why you’re here, too?”

  Next to Jack, Olivia groaned softly, “Please, Steven, just get out of there!”

  “We’re here ’cause of the cubs. Yeah,” Max nodded. “You got it, man.”

  “Wait—are we talking about the same thing?” Terry interrupted. “Grizzly cubs. About yay big?” He lowered his hand to his kneecap to show the height of a second-year cub. “You’re telling me you know what happened to them?”

  Pushing back his hat, Steven rubbed his forehead. “Well, not exactly. Olivia—Dr. Landon—knows more about it than I do.”

  “Oh, she does, does she?”

  Inside the trailer, Jack said softly, “Mom, they think Dad’s talking about the cubs they put in the net. They think Dad’s got them!”

  Olivia didn’t answer. She kept her eyes on Steven, while her fingers clenched tightly around the binoculars.

  “…so you’d just better tell Olivia that I want them back,” Terry threatened.

  “Want them back? Well, sure, all of us want to get them back,” Steven said, slowly moving away.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Terry snarled. “I said I want those cubs. Right now!”

  Jack’s pulse began to pound as Terry slipped his right hand beneath his shirt and pulled out a—

  “He’s got a gun!” Olivia’s voice caught in her throat. “Oh no, don’t let him—”

  Terry took another step toward Steven, who moved backward, his hands spreading into the air as he asked, “Whoa—what do you need a gun for?”

  “To blow your head off if you don’t bring back those cubs.”

  “What—what cubs?”

  “Don’t mess with me, man! Get that Olivia chick to give them to me, or I swear—”

  Suddenly an amplified electronic voice blasted out of the trees. “PUT THE GUN DOWN.” Terry whirled, no doubt recognizing a police bullhorn when he heard one.

  Hostage situation! The words hit Jack’s brain like a cymbal crash. If Terry or Max grabbed Steven to use as a shield, all those law-enforcement rangers standing in the trees with their guns drawn would be just so much useless firepower.

  As loud as he could, Jack yelled, “Run, Dad!” Olivia grabbed Jack, screaming, “No!” but Steven took off running just a second before Max lunged for him—Max’s hands missed him by inches. At the same instant, half a dozen rangers leaped out from the woods to form a circle around Terry and Max.

  Dumbfounded, the poachers saw six military-style handguns held straight out and steady, with the muzzles of the gun barrels staring at them like unblinking eyes. It was as though all motion died. Halfway to the trailer, Steven froze. Even the birds stopped chirping in the trees.

  “Don’t shoot!” Terry yelled, throwing his own gun to the ground.

  As the rangers moved forward to handcuff both men, Olivia dashed out of the trailer, running so fast she pushed through underbrush as if it were cotton candy. When she reached Steven, she threw her arms around him so tightly it seemed as though they were one person instead of two.

  Jack and Ashley followed close behind. “Yay, Dad!” Ashley cried, catapulting herself into the hug. Jack hung back, unsure, until his mother reached out and pulled him in. The four of them crushed together. Now that they were safe, Jack suddenly felt his throat tighten with so much emotion he almost couldn’t breathe. They’d made it. All of them.

  It was over.

  “Twenty-four hours,” Steven said, shaking his head. “How could so much have happened in just twenty-four hours? Last night at this time we were sitting around the campfire listening to Jack tell a story about a buffalo runner and his little sister.”

  “And before that,” Ashley said, “we were at Ulm Pishkun, where we heard the true story of the buffalo runners. But I have to say something,” she told them, rising from the picnic bench where the whole family was seated. “No buffalo runner could ever have been braver than Miguel was today. To save Jack and me, he got the grizzly to chase after him, because he knew in one more minute we were going to get mauled.”

  Jack stood, too, and raised his can of cola in a salute. “Here’s to Miguel,” he said, and everyone cheered, while Miguel beamed.

  “To Miguel…Montoya!” Olivia repeated.

  Miguel’s dark eyes opened wide. He whispered in Ashley’s ear. “He wants to know how you found out his last name,” she reported.

  “He was in the newspaper, remember?” Olivia said, smiling. “Miguel Montoya, the runaway from Nogales, Mexico. That is you, isn’t it?”
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  Miguel must have understood “newspaper.” He looked half proud and half scared. “Is true?” he asked. “In newspaper?”

  Jack was getting an idea. It took root and grew while he examined it in all directions, liking the feel of it. “Mom and Dad,” he said, “if Miguel’s story was interesting enough to make it into the newspaper a couple of days ago—I mean, just the story about him crossing the border on his own—what would happen if we told reporters what he did today? About how he saved our lives?”

  Steven cocked an eyebrow, considering. “Sure, we could do that, but what purpose would it serve?”

  Ashley cried, “I get it! If we told everyone Miguel’s a hero, they wouldn’t send him back to Mexico. Mom, we promised we’d get him to Seattle.”

  Olivia frowned when she heard that. Mildly admonishing Ashley—Olivia couldn’t bring herself to scold her children, not tonight, not after the near miss with the grizzly—she said, “You had no business promising. His case is a problem for the Immigration Service. He’s an illegal alien, Ashley.”

  Miguel recognized those words, all right. He cowered, shrinking beneath the edge of the picnic table as though he wanted to disappear.

  “He’s a hero!” Ashley declared vehemently. “He saved us.”

  “Take it easy,” Steven told her. “I think it’s possible we could arrange to have Miguel stay in this country. We could be his sponsors.”

  Slapping the table, Jack said, “He doesn’t want us. He wants to go to his teacher in Seattle. If she found out what he’s gone through, I know she’d sponsor him herself.”

  Everyone was silent. The fire crackled in the fire pit while Steven and Olivia pondered Miguel’s situation. “Ms. Lopez,” Olivia suddenly announced.

  “Huh?”

  “Ms. Lopez, the head of Social Services in Jackson Hole, the one who arranges all the emergency-care foster placements for the kids that come to our family. She might have connetions with Immigration and Naturalization. And she speaks Spanish.”

  “Call her,” Ashley demanded. “You have our cell phone, don’t you? Will it work out here?”

  “I think so. I’ll give it a try.”

  “Hey, guys,” Steven protested. “Shouldn’t we be roasting marshmallows or something? We’re supposed to be having a wilderness experience out here under the stars, and you want to bring in all this modern technology.” When he saw the expressions on all their faces, he shrugged and said, “OK, I give up. Make the call, Olivia.”

  In her job, Ms. Lopez was used to phone calls at unusual hours, both day and night. After Olivia briefly explained the situation, she handed the phone to Miguel. “Here. Talk to her,” she told him.

  Miguel clapped a hand over his mouth as his eyes grew wide with apprehension. Olivia said gently, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. This nice lady wants to talk to you, Miguel.”

  But Miguel refused to take the phone. “Hold on,” Olivia said to Ms. Lopez. Then, “Miguel, do you know what this is?” She held up the cell phone.

  He nodded. “Teléfono.”

  “That’s right. Have you ever talked on one?”

  Miguel shook his head. My gosh, Jack thought, he’s never made a phone call. How many kids like Miguel don’t even know how to use a phone? Where he lives there’s no electricity and no running water, so why would there be a telephone? He’s clueless, and scared.

  “See this? You listen with this part,” Jack instructed, holding the earpiece to his own ear. “Then you talk in this part, like my mother was doing.”

  “Go ahead, Ms. Lopez,” Olivia called out. “Miguel is ready.”

  Lifting the cell phone in a shaking hand, as if it might be a grenade ready to explode against his ear, Miguel sat rigid, staring dead ahead. Then he straightened, and a grin crept over his lips. “Sí,” he kept saying, until finally he let loose a barrage of Spanish that went on and on until, reluctantly, he handed the phone back to Olivia.

  After the call was over, Olivia told everyone, “She’s going to do everything she can. Since we’re certified foster parents, she’ll fix it so that we can keep Miguel for the next couple of days while she goes through all the red tape with Immigration.”

  “Yay!” Jack and Ashley both yelled, and Ashley hugged Miguel, who didn’t seem to mind the hug.

  “Marshmallows, anyone?” Steven asked, but just then the cell phone rang. “Oh, good grief! Can’t get away from it,” he moaned, grabbing the phone to flick it open.

  He listened. And listened, speaking only a few words like, “What? Yes. Definitely. At headquarters tomorrow? We’ll be there. Oh yeah, I have to get my Jeep fixed. Window smashed out. You’ll let us use a park vehicle? Great!”

  “Well,” he said, leaning back as he shoved down the antenna and closed the phone. “Have I got news for all of you!”

  “What, Dad?” they asked. “Tell us.”

  “Mmmmmm,” Steven teased, “maybe I’ll save it till after the marshmallows.”

  “Dad!” Ashley and Jack ran around the table to wrestle with their father, Ashley messing his hair while Jack knuckled him in the ribs, shouting, “Come on—tell us!”

  “OK,” Steven said. “I shouldn’t be goofing around. This is not a happy story.”

  That got them silent in a hurry. “Why?” Jack asked, but Steven had already turned to Olivia, saying, “I think we’ve solved the mystery of the vanishing cubs.”

  He went on to tell them that the delivery van had been traced to a game ranch on an island off the coast of Seattle, where hunters paid tens of thousands of dollars to shoot exotic animals. “Not just grizzlies,” Steven said, “but mountain lions, wolves, bison, wild boars—animals that are protected or endangered.” It had been happening for several years, he said: Young animals were stolen or bought illegally, then taken to the island ranch, where they got fed regularly so that they never learned to fend for themselves in the wild. Almost tame, they’d be turned out when they became adults to become the quarry of rich, inexperienced hunters who could track them down without much effort, then shoot them for big-game trophies to hang on a wall.

  “That’s awful!” Jack exclaimed.

  “For sure! But thanks to you,” Steven said, “the owners will be arrested. I hope they get jail time. First thing tomorrow, we have to go to park headquarters, because Kate Kendall, the woman in charge of the bear DNA project, wants you kids to tell her everything you saw happening to the bears today. She’s leaving tomorrow for Seattle to go to the game ranch. With her DNA samples, she might be able to tell how many of the bears there came from Glacier.”

  “They’ll be returned here, won’t they?” Jack asked.

  Olivia paused before she answered slowly, “It’s going to be a problem. If the bears were fed regularly by the people at that ranch, they won’t be able to adjust to the wild.”

  Ashley drew in her breath. “A fed bear is a dead bear. Oh Mom—Couldn’t they go to zoos?”

  “Maybe. Some of them.” Steven nodded, but Jack saw the look in his father’s eyes. He was just trying to comfort Ashley.

  “It’s heartbreaking,” Olivia agreed. “But you three kids ought to feel really good. Today you saved two little grizzly cubs from going to that awful hunting ranch. You saved their lives.”

  “And Miguel saved ours,” Ashley said.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Color seemed to radiate from Going-to-the-Sun Road, and as the five of them wound toward the summit, Jack felt as though he couldn’t take in the beauty fast enough. Wildflowers splashed the slopes in a shower of jewels, pink clusters called shooting stars, then fireweed that blazed like candles next to blossoms the color of topaz, all scattered against a carpet of velvety green. There were 1,200 species of flowering plants in Glacier, Jack had been told, and he believed it. It was as if a giant box of crayons had been spilled out, one against another in endless patterns of browns and emeralds, purples and scarlets—every color under the sun.

  “Dad, stop for a picture, OK?” Jack pleaded.

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nbsp; “We pulled over five minutes ago and five minutes before that. Sorry, I’ve got to keep driving. Otherwise, we won’t reach the lake until autumn.”

  “But Dad, it’s the perfect shot. Look, it couldn’t be any better. Come on, I’ve got to get this one.”

  “There’ll be another perfect shot around the next bend. I’m afraid you’ll have to let this one go by. Just try to keep it in your mind’s eye.”

  Above, soaring rock faces towered over their car like enormous giants; below, shimmering windswept waters winked in the morning light. There was so much to see that Jack was almost frustrated as he attempted to absorb it all, to remember it.

  Miguel, too, watched wide-eyed, his face pressed flat into the glass while Jack gazed out of the driver’s side. Ashley, jammed between them, could still see enough to say, “Wow.”

  “Es bonita,” Miguel said softly.

  “Sí,” Ashley agreed. “Muy bonita.”

  Miguel seemed to be enjoying the three days he’d spent with the Landons as they toured as much of Glacier as they could squeeze in. Their Jeep was being repaired in the nearby town of Hungry Horse, so the park had loaned them an Explorer to travel around in. The delay was fine with Jack; it gave them a chance to be explorers. They’d traveled down the Trail of the Cedars boardwalk, amazed at the tropical feel of it: Pillars of shaggy-barked cedars stood next to black cottonwood surrounded by green ferns and mosses. They’d seen waterfalls slicing glaciated peaks, and water so clear it seemed the fish swimming in it were flying in air. They’d seen mountain slopes thick with huckleberries. They’d watched in wonder as a moose forded a stream, its long legs strangely delicate, like a dancer prancing across a stage.

  Still, all the Landons felt tension as they waited to see what would become of Miguel; the worry never quite left any of them. The only one who didn’t seem concerned about his fate was Miguel himself. Content to enjoy each day, he drank in the images of Glacier, breaking into a wide smile whenever he spotted a wild animal.

  If Jack hadn’t questioned his mother earlier, he’d have thought everything was fine. But when Olivia reported her conversation with Ms. Lopez, Jack’s heart sank.