Gloria Skurzynski - Mysteries in Our National Parks - Wolf Stalker - A Mystery in Yellowstone National Park

“We need to be packed and in the car no later than seven tomorrow morning—” Steven began, but Troy broke in.

“I’m outta here right now,” he said, jumping up from the bed. “No way am I gonna leave this town until I find my mom.” He would have rushed out of the room if Steven hadn’t shut the door hard and leaned against it from the inside.

“Outta my way, man!” Troy ordered.

Steven Landon knew how to approach frightened animals without threatening them. As if Troy were a cornered deer, he locked eyes with the boy, then slowly raised his hand, palm up. In a quiet voice Steven told him, “I think I know how you must feel, Troy. But if you leave here right now, the police will pick you up and you’ll spend the weekend in juvenile hall. And what good would that do anyone?”

Steven took a step closer. “Come with us, Troy. We’ll stay in phone contact with your social worker. As soon as there’s any news about your mother, you’ll be the first to find out. I promise.”

Troy no longer looked like a frightened animal, he looked like a caged animal. Coiled in a half-crouch, color staining his cheeks, he shouted, “This is supposed to be my room, right? Why are all of you in here? If I gotta be stuck with you in a car tomorrow, you need to give me some space now.” His voice broke. “OK?”

“Right!” Gesturing for her family to leave, Olivia said, “Let’s get started packing, kids. Tomorrow will begin early.”

Too early. By six that Saturday morning, at the day’s first pale light, Jack was fighting to hang onto his pillow while his father dragged him out of bed.

By seven, as the rosy glow from the sunrise lingered over the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Grand Teton Mountain Range, all the Landons plus Troy were crowded into their jeep, heading for Yellowstone.

“Did you get hold of Mike?” Jack asked his mother. Olivia shook her head. Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “I am definitely getting worried. Something must have gone wrong. I think we better drive up to the wolf office.”

It was the weekend after Labor Day. Although Yellowstone still had plenty of visitors, the crowds were skimpy compared with the holiday jam-up a week earlier. Jack had been on this same walkway between Old Faithful and the parking lot when actual human gridlock occurred, and no one could move at all. Those times, he’d kept his eyes focused on his father’s blond head. At six foot three, Steven was pretty easy to follow in a crowd. Olivia got swallowed.

Jack looked like his father: tall, thin, and blond. Ashley was a young version of her mother: short and slightly built, with big dark eyes and dark hair that framed her face in gentle wisps. And right now, Ashley was babbling to strangers, the way she always did. In the stream of visitors heading for their cars, Ashley had picked out a silver-haired couple. Tagging along beside them, she said, “Wasn’t it great?”

“Fantastic,” the woman agreed.

“Have you ever seen it before?”

“No. We live in Minnesota,” the man answered.

Smiling, the woman asked, “So did you come to Yellowstone just to watch Old Faithful?”

“No, we’re here to help the wolves. My mom’s a wildlife veterinarian.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. She works at the National Elk Refuge in Jackson Hole, but sometimes she gets a call and she has to help the national parks in emergencies…”

That Ashley! Jack thought. As a baby, she’d always smiled at everyone she saw. Now here she was, almost 11, and still acting as though each person who crossed her path was a new friend just waiting to be discovered.

Jack wasn’t as trusting. Whenever they were out together, he made it his job to keep an eye on his sister, trying to prevent her from spilling the entire life stories of all the Landons into the ears of total strangers. This couple looked harmless enough—the man wore the usual tourist camera slung around his neck, and a floppy-brimmed hat on his head; his wife had on a pink sweatshirt that said Save the Whales. It matched the sun-tinted pink of her cheeks.

“Well, my husband and I love wolves. They have every right to be here in Yellowstone,” the woman told her.

“That’s what my mom thinks. It’s not their fault if a dog tries to mess with them.”

“Ashley—” Olivia began.

“It’s true! Isn’t that why we came here, Mom? Because that dog got killed yesterday by the wolves?” Turning back to the couple, Ashley said, “My mom’s investigating to find out what really happened when the dog got eaten, but it might be hard to tell if there’s not much left of him.”

“Goodness!” the woman said. “So you’re the one who’s investigating?” she asked Olivia.

Giving Ashley a look, Olivia hesitated before she answered, “I’m mostly here to gather some information. I hope to handle it quietly, so people won’t hear about the killing and become upset at the wolves.”

The man said, “Well, if you wanted to keep it a secret, you’re too late. I already heard about that wolf attack on the national news.”

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, no.”

“And I ought to warn you—you’re going to be right in the middle of a big mess. When we came into the park this morning, demonstrators were picketing. Right outside the west gate. The news people were all over the place with TV cameras and everything.”

The man and woman took turns interrupting each other as they told the story: “People were carrying signs and yelling—”

“‘Get rid of the wolves, or we’ll do it for you—’”

“—and, ‘The only good wolf is a dead wolf.’”

“Who were these people?” Steven asked.

“Looked like a bunch of ranchers to me. From what their signs said, wolves have been eating their sheep and they don’t like it.”

“No, no, no,” the woman interrupted. “Ranchers were there, too, but most of the people were some kind of militia group. There are a lot of baldhead militia groups in this part of the country—”

The man laughed. “They’re called skinheads, Louise. Not baldheads.”

“Whatever. They kept yelling that bringing wolves to the park was government interference, and citizens’ rights were being trampled on—”

By then they’d all reached the Landons’ jeep in the parking lot. Troy lounged against the tailgate, looking bored, while Olivia and Steven extracted every bit of information they could from the Minnesota couple. As they parted, the woman called back, “We believe the wolves should be in Yellowstone, particularly since they were here first. But I think you’re going to have a real battle keeping them in the park.”

“They’re worth fighting for,” Olivia answered. She unlocked the door and said, “Get in the jeep, kids. We need to find out what’s been going on around here.”

On the way to Yellowstone, Jack had been stuck for four long hours sitting in the back seat beside sullen, surly Troy Haverson. Ashley had it even worse: To leave enough room for the two boys, she’d been crammed into the jeep’s tailgate, with backpacks and totes and extra parkas and Steven’s cases of camera equipment. Now they were back in the jeep again, but this time they wouldn’t have far to go.

Stands of lodgepole pine lined both sides of the road. Some clumps were tall and green. Others had been burned black from forest fires; their skinny trunks stood straight up like charred toothpicks. For anyone who hadn’t seen it before, the evidence of fire’s devastation must have been startling. But Troy stayed slumped in his corner, hardly noticing, saying nothing.

Steven was driving, which left Olivia free to turn around in her seat to tempt Troy into conversation—or at least into some kind of response. “This is probably all new to you, but the fight over the wolves goes way back. Did you know, Troy,” she began, “that wolves roamed Yellowstone for thousands of years? Then when people first moved into this area more than a century ago, they killed the wolves for their pelts—you know, their fur?”