Mount Rushmore, Badlands, Wind Cave

by Mike Graf

  “Frost!” James said when he saw the tiny features.

  “It sure looks like it,” Wendell agreed. “But it’s not cold enough for frost down here. What it is, though, is a very rare, extremely delicate cave formation called frostwork.”

  “Is that why we can only go down here three at a time?” Morgan asked when she was there with Dad.

  “Pretty much so,” Wendell replied. “In some cases, although not here, the crystal strands from this kind of formation can grow several feet long, or even longer, hanging in the air like hair for thousands of years. Even breathing in a cave room with those in them can destroy the formation. But here it’s a small room and we want all of you to be able to get a good look at the formation without feeling crowded, or possibly bumping into anything so fragile. You can see why we treat it with extreme care.”

  Mom gawked. “It sure is beautiful.”

  Once everyone had seen the frostwork, Wendell led the group farther through the underground maze. A moment later, Morgan called out excitedly, “We’re back in the Tabernacle!”

  “Precisely,” Wendell replied. “How did you know?”

  “I recognized that big flat rock over there.”

  “Sounds like we have ourselves a spelunker in the group.”

  Morgan smiled.

  Soon Wendell brought everyone back to some stairs. The group scaled them, then Wendell locked the gate behind before giving out a bit more information. “We know a great deal about Alvin McDonald’s caving because he kept a diary of his journeys.”

  Dad whispered to the twins. “See how important it is to keep a journal?”

  “All right everyone,” Wendell called out once the group was back on the cemented, lighted path. “You can blow out your candles.”

  Each person did, and then they clambered on through the more developed part of the cave, enjoying the smooth path and its lit features. Soon they returned to the elevator and piled in. A few seconds later they exited to a bright, sunlit world. Once outside, everyone returned their gloves to the boxes.

  The Parkers thanked Wendell and took the path to the visitor center. They spent some time there, and at the gift shop, eventually returning to their car and their campsite for the evening.

  After another day at the park, the next evening, Morgan wrote in her journal.

  Dear Diary:

  My family is now afflicted with “cave-itis.” After our candlelight tour of Wind Cave yesterday, we’ve now also done the Natural Entrance and the Fairgrounds Tours. On our way out of here tomorrow, we’re going to stop at nearby Jewel Cave, too. It seems like, lately, we’re spending more time going underground than above. At least then we don’t have to wear sunscreen!

  Too bad we can’t go spelunking though. You have to be at least sixteen, here, to go. Funny, that was Alvin McDonald’s age when he started cave exploring here. James says it’s not fair because since we’re younger, and smaller, we’re perfectly suited to wild caving experiences.

  I also think we might be more flexible and would explore some of the cave’s tight passages (of which there are plenty!) easier. But either way, we’ll just have to come back.

  Anyway, we’re spending a few days enjoying the many sights in and around the Black Hills, while staying camped at Wind Cave, where there’s more to see than caves, including bison, prairie dogs, and a nice hike we’ve been on, too. The day after tomorrow we head out to our vacation’s grand finale destination—Mount Rushmore. Teddy Roosevelt, we’ll see you soon!

  Sincerely,

  Morgan Parker

  11 On the Presidential Trail

  Traffic patrol waved the Parkers toward the parking garage. Dad pulled into the underground structure packed with cars. As he looked for a spot, Morgan, James, and Mom noticed license plates from all over the country.

  “There’s one from New York!” Morgan announced.

  “And Florida,” James added, picking out a state even farther away.

  Then Dad said, “Here’s one from our home state, California.”

  Finally, Dad found a spot to park. The family slid out and then headed up toward the patriotic mountain.

  The Parkers, along with tons of other people, climbed a set of stairs toward the monument. Many of Mount Rushmore’s visitors wore patriotic attire for the Fourth of July holiday. There were Uncle Sam hats; small flags on strollers; red, white, and blue T-shirts; and other holiday gear adorning the visitors.

  Mom looked around. “We picked quite a day to be at Mount Rushmore,” she commented.

  The family stopped to check out the visitor center, then headed toward the Presidential Trail.

  The wide path along the way was adorned with the flags of the fifty-six states, districts, commonwealths, and territories. As they proceeded, the Parkers found the brown bear and star on the California state flag. Morgan got her family to stand beneath their flag while she snapped a photo.

  Eventually the Parkers came to a large amphitheatre facing the massive, monumental mountain. Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad, along with hordes of others, stood there gazing at the stone replicas of the former presidents. “Wow!” Dad exclaimed in awe. “Those carvings are huge!”

  “And so realistic,” Mom added.

  Morgan took a bunch of pictures of the mountain from different angles.

  Then the family gazed down at the large outdoor amphitheatre. “This is where we’re going to watch the lighting of the presidents’ faces tonight!” Mom announced.

  “I can’t wait,” Morgan added.

  The family stood and people-watched, both the hustle and bustle of the tourists from all over the country, and the absolute still of the stone presidential monument above.

  Morgan noticed two men, far below on the seats of the amphitheatre. One, a man with a red hat on, stood up on a long wooden plank and balanced on one foot while laughing. He put each arm out and announced something that Morgan couldn’t quite hear. But she did catch the last word, “rich.” Then the man walked over to his friend and gave him a high five.

  His friend laughed and they both dashed up the steps and headed toward the Presidential Trail.

  Morgan sensed familiarity in the two men. She looked at her family to see if they, too, had recognized them and noticed their antics. But Mom and Dad were either gazing at the presidents, or watching other people nearby. And James seemed to be fixated on someone carrying a soft vanilla ice cream cone. He delivered a message to Mom and Dad by looking but not saying a word.

  Dad eventually got the drift. “Soon,” he said to James with a grin, “after our walk.”

  From there the Parkers headed out on the main walkway onto the Presidential Trail.

  As the family strolled along the famed path, they got closer and closer to the former presidents. Some of the visitors were listening to headsets, an audio tour of the trail at designated stops.

  At one point, Mom gazed in the opposite direction, back toward the east and the Black Hills as they sank toward the plains. “Now I can see where these mountains got their name,” she said. “All the trees when viewed at a distance make this mountain island look dark or black.”

  Soon the Parkers came to a small side area with Lakota Indian displays depicting their way of life. The Parkers walked into the mock miniature village. “It was actually their home here,” Dad said, “before we decided to carve up the mountain and make it one of our national parks.”

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad wandered around, looking over the displays in the village. Lakota and Cherokee interpreters were on hand to explain various techniques regarding their culture and heritage. There was a demonstration on how to build a tipi. A Lakota interpreter was also next to a hanging strip of buffalo hide. The Parkers learned from him the many uses of buffalo outside of food, including hooves for rattles, bones for toys, hide for rope, and hair for bedding. Another interpreter was nearby showing how to scrape a hide. Morgan and James were about to partake in this when Morgan noticed the two men from the amphitheatre in the area. She watche
d them acting jovial, nonchalantly traipsing about the displays while apparently making jokes. Every moment or so, one of them would burst into laughter. Morgan followed them out of the corner of her eye.

  Then the man with the red cap pretended to pull an imaginary bow and arrow back, and shoot a buffalo hide. “I got it!” he called out while parading around the hide.

  Dad looked at the man and shook his head in disgust. “How about a little respect?” he mumbled.

  Several of the native interpreters also stared at the man’s antics with disbelief and disappointment.

  Then the man’s friend added to their charade by saying. “After we shoot it, we can just leave it to rot on the plains with the rest of the bison.”

  And the other replied. “And who knows, maybe those bones will eventually become fossils too.”

  The man with the red cap belted out a laugh and, immediately, Morgan, James, and Mom froze in unison with shivers going up their spines.

  12 Is it Really Them?

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad huddled together.

  They each took sideways, discreet glances at the two men.

  Morgan was first to speak. “Is that really who I think it is?” she murmured.

  “I believe so,” Mom whispered back.

  “Are you certain?” Dad asked. He looked over at them and whispered, “Shhh! We better keep our voices down.”

  The Parkers then walked around the displays, attempting to be interested in the information, but keeping a watchful, cautious eye on the potential culprits.

  Finally, after a few more minutes, the suspects left the area on Native Americans and returned to the main Presidential Trail. A moment later Morgan said, “Well, what do we do now?”

  Dad watched for a minute until the two men were definitely out of sight. “Are you all absolutely certain that those are the thieves?”

  “Certain’s a tough word,” Mom mused. “I wouldn’t bet my life on it, but I’ll also never forget that laugh.”

  “I know it’s the guys from Badlands who stole the bones,” James blurted out. “At least I think it is.”

  So the Parkers decided for the time being to just continue on, hoping along the way to get a better look at them.

  A short while later, Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad arrived at the Lincoln memorial. From there they gazed up at President Lincoln’s carved face on the mountain, and quickly read over information about the sixteenth president on a plaque.

  “He was president during the Civil War,” Morgan realized.

  “I believe you learn all about that next year in fifth grade,” Mom said.

  “He also delivered the Emancipation Proclamation,” Dad added, “which abolished slavery in the United States.”

  Morgan was first to finish reading. She glanced over at the two men who were also there and whispered to her family. “It’s hard to pay attention now to what we’re really here for.”

  Then the two guys walked off. “They left,” Morgan reported.

  “Should we follow them?” James asked.

  “What if they recognize us?” Morgan worried.

  Dad thought the situation over some more. “What if all this is none of our business? After all we aren’t even one hundred percent sure it’s them.”

  After another moment at the Lincoln viewing station the family pressed on, following the prescribed route of the trail. Soon they were at the Washington memorial.

  The Parkers looked directly up at President Washington. Morgan tried to take her mind off what else was going on by doing what many of the other tourists were doing, snapping photos of Washington’s large stone head.

  The two men were at the other end of the area, quietly talking to each other. James saw them and said, “Just seeing them makes me kind of nervous.”

  “You know,” Dad thought out loud. “I never really saw them. All of you did. So that means, possibly, that they didn’t see me,” he reasoned. “And if I walk up there by myself, near them, it just might look like I’m another tourist. That way I can eavesdrop on what they’re talking about. Maybe that’ll help us figure out what to do.”

  “They’re right by the Washington information sign,” James whispered.

  “And I want to read about Washington anyway,” Dad responded. “Perhaps getting closer will give me a better idea if these really are wanted men.”

  Dad took a deep breath. “Well, I’m going in.”

  Dad took Morgan’s camera. Then, nonchalantly, he meandered closer to the two men in question, and the Washington information plaque. When he got there he gazed up at the president and casually remarked. “Quite a carving up there.”

  The man with the red cap snickered at Dad’s statement. But Dad didn’t look at him. Then the man responded. “I’ve seen better. What nature does is more realistic, even if it takes millions of years.” Dad took a breath, digesting that comment, but acting as if he wasn’t fazed by it. Then Dad began taking photos of the mountain from various angles. Next he wandered closer to the sign, trying to focus on the information about our first president. Dad knew Washington was president between 1789 and 1797. And he was committed to democracy and the concept of “we the people,” so much so that he turned down the opportunity for a third term. He didn’t want to be an emperor. Dad learned that Washington played a central part in creating our constitution and that was one of the reasons he was coined “The Father of our Country.”

  Dad also tried to pay attention to a muted conversation going on between the two men. He inched closer, while still trying to appear most interested in the information display as well as the mountain above.

  Still, Dad tuned in to the men as best he could while trying to remain discreet. With all the tourists’ commotion going on around, he could only manage to hear broken bits of conversation, with things like:

  “I … can’t believe … much … found.”

  “Jaws … femur … skull …”

  “Worth.”

  “eBay.”

  “Wait … suspicious.”

  At that last comment Dad couldn’t help but to take a quick glance at the culprits. And they were looking right at him!

  Dad swallowed nervously and looked away, while his heart began to pound. He knew he had heard enough information now. However, he waited a moment, again trying to appear to be focused elsewhere. Soon Dad walked back to his family but also noticed the two men leaving.

  Once Dad was back, his family studied his transfixed, nervous gaze. “Well?” Morgan, James, and Mom’s faces seemed to say.

  Dad inched closer and whispered, “We have to report them to a ranger. Or the police. Or both. Now!”

  13 The Chase Is On

  The two suspects hurried down the trail, then disappeared.

  Dad whispered, “What should we do?”

  “We’re not the police,” Mom said. “It’s not safe for us to be pursuing criminals.”

  The family looked around quickly. Although there were tons of people, there were no rangers or patrolmen in sight. So, they spent a few more minutes at the Washington memorial.

  Soon they came upon the talus slope area. There, tons of granite boulders from the original carving and blasting of the mountain lay in piles of debris below the monument.

  “Dynamite did most of this, I imagine,” Dad mentioned, while gazing up at the slough of boulders.

  But the men weren’t in sight there, so the Parkers pressed on, hoping not to get overly involved, but also hoping not to let the men get away. They spent a brief time at the Jefferson terrace stop. There they learned that because of the cracks in the rock, Jefferson’s face had to be pointed upwards, as opposed to the other three presidents. But that was a unique coincidence, because that fixed his gaze out toward the plains, to the land he acquired while president, the Louisiana Purchase.

  “That more than doubled the size of our country at the time,” Mom recalled.

  Soon the Parkers came to the spot they had been thinking about the most, Teddy Roosevelt. “Here’
s the man we’ve been looking for!” Dad exclaimed.

  At the other end of the area were the two men.

  Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, as well as relying on the relative safety of the crowds, Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad looked up at the spectacled carving of Theodore Roosevelt, our twenty-sixth president, who held office from 1901 to 1909. They heard a person mention Roosevelt was the most controversial of the four men to be included on the memorial. But they knew one of the reasons for his inclusion was his reputation as a conservationist.

  “Roosevelt helped establish the national park system. More than any other president, he was the man saving national parks and monuments,” Dad said, trying to muster up his usual enthusiasm.

  Then Dad continued, “The Antiquities Act of 1906 was one of his big accomplishments. This allows presidents to preserve areas of land without an act of congress. Many of our famous parks were first set aside this way. And by Roosevelt! He even had his hand in saving Pinnacles—our small, but wonderful, national monument near us in California in 1908.”

  “I love Pinnacles,” James whispered, while elbowing Dad in the ribs. “But they’re leaving again,” he gestured toward the two men.

  The Parkers watched the probable bone thieves waltz down some stairs and disappear.

  “Well, I don’t think they think we’re following them,” Mom said. “At least it doesn’t seem that way to me.”

  Morgan added. “I keep seeing a lot of the same people all along the trail. So they could easily think anyone is following them, and not us.”

  The Parkers started wandering over to leave when two rangers walked up. The family saw them and stopped.

  “Well,” Mom said. “This is our moment.”

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad walked briskly up to the rangers. “Excuse us,” Dad said.

  The man and woman dressed in their national park uniforms turned and looked at the Parkers. “Yes?” the woman answered.