Gloria Skurzynski - Mysteries in Our National Parks - Valley of Death - A Mystery in Death Valley National Park

What a name—Furnace Creek! As Jack studied the park map, he found other names that sounded just as harsh: Badwater, Last Chance Range, Deadman Pass, Funeral Mountains, Coffin Peak, Dry Bone Canyon, Hells Gate, Devils Cornfield—place-names that wouldn’t exactly tempt a person to visit Death Valley. But the Landons hadn’t come on vacation; they were there because Olivia Landon—Doctor Olivia Landon, wildlife veterinarian—had been called to help solve the mysterious deaths of the park’s desert bighorn sheep.

Once they drove past the leafy green trees and date palms and Joshua trees that surrounded the oasis of Scotty’s Castle, the Landons found themselves in the real Death Valley, the hottest, deepest, and driest place in the U.S.A. They passed miles of desert sand decorated with nothing more than rocks and saltbrush and creosote bushes. Then, ahead of them in all that desolation, something raced across the road.

“What was that?” Ashley cried. “Stop, Dad!”

Steven pulled to the shoulder of the highway just as Jack said, “It’s a coyote. Look, he’s standing right there, staring at us.”

Like a welcoming committee, the coyote faced them, his eyes focusing on the Landons in their vehicle, his big ears straight up like radar.

“What a beautiful specimen!” Olivia exclaimed. “That’s just about the healthiest coyote I’ve ever seen.”

“Let me grab my camera,” Steven said, but Jack had already reached into the tailgate to pass his dad’s camera case forward.

The coyote’s ears moved forward and then back, as though trying to pick up a signal. His coat—tawny on the head and back, cream-colored on the face and underside—shone thick and full, and rippled slightly in the desert breeze. When he turned in profile, as though posing for Steven’s camera, they saw his tail, hanging long, thick, and bushy.

“He’s licking his lips like he’s hungry,” Ashley said. “Since he looks so big and strong, he must find plenty of rats and mice and stuff to eat out here in the desert.”

Olivia answered, “I have a suspicion that the exact opposite is true. The way he’s acting—standing right there, not moving, not the least afraid of us humans—makes me think he’s a little beggar looking for people food. He probably hangs around the road all day waiting for tourists’ cars, and I’ll bet half the visitors who see him open their car windows and throw him a cookie or peanuts or whatever they have.” Olivia shook her head. “It’s a bad, bad situation when wild animals become dependent on handouts.”

Jack remembered Glacier National Park, where grizzly bears fed by tourists would invade campgrounds to look for food, causing trouble for themselves and the visitors. And Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, where the néné—geese that had almost become extinct—often got run over when they approached cars for handouts. Neither Jack nor Ashley would ever think of feeding wildlife, no matter how tame the animals appeared to be. They’d had that lesson drummed into them by their parents since they were little.

In a soft voice, Leesa murmured, “My dad says coyotes are varmints and all varmints deserve to be shot.”

For a moment everyone stayed silent, surprised by Leesa’s comment. Then, gently, Olivia asked, “Do you believe that too, Leesa?”

“I—don’t know.” Her deep-set, shadowed eyes lowered to stare at the floor. “I’m just saying what my dad thinks.”

Jack had heard it before, that wolves, coyotes, bobcats, and mountain lions were useless predators that harmed cattle and sheep and sometimes carried off little children—that part of it certainly wasn’t true. “Our mom and dad teach us,” he told Leesa, “that every living creature has its own value, its own reason for being on Earth.”

Jack was in the backseat next to the open window, with Ashley between him and Leesa. Touching Leesa’s hand, Ashley asked, “You wouldn’t want to shoot something as beautiful as that coyote, would you?”

Leesa hesitated, then shook her head.

Starting the engine, Steven said, “We’d better get going. Jack, put my camera back—carefully—where you got it. It’s close to four o’clock now, and I want to have us settled at the ranch in plenty of time to set up for pictures. I’ve heard that the sunsets are spectacular here at Death Valley.” Steven, a professional photographer, usually shot pictures of wildlife, but he was always ready to photograph anything else that attracted him.

Throughout the rest of the drive, Ashley kept talking about the animals they’d seen at the national parks they’d visited and how each one had its place in the ecosystem. Then she started on the scenery they were driving past. “Look at this desert,” she said to Leesa. “Some people might think it’s ugly because there aren’t any green trees or flowing streams, but to me it has its own kind of beauty. Like the colors in the rocks. The ripples in the sand….”

Leesa no longer seemed to listen. She stared out through her own window toward the Grapevine Mountains in the distance, dark, sculpted, limestone rock streaked with white calcite. What a strange girl, Jack thought. Where did she come from, and why was she with them? He wished his parents would fill him in on Leesa’s background, but they were as silent about Leesa as Leesa was silent by choice. She didn’t respond at all to Ashley’s nonstop chattering.

Once more they emerged from sandy desert into an astonishing oasis of grass and palm trees and—a golf course! “This is where we’re staying,” Steven announced. “Furnace Creek Ranch.” Before he finished speaking, a horse-drawn wagon rounded a corner and headed straight toward them.

“Pull over!” Olivia told Steven, and then, laughing, added, “I think horses must have the right of way.”

It was an authentic, old-fashioned buckboard wagon, the kind people used for transportation a long time ago. Two patient horses pulled the wagon that rolled along on tall, metal-spoked wheels. Even though the Cruiser’s windows were closed, Jack could hear the clop, clop, clop of the horses’ hooves. The driver raised his whip in a salute to the Landons—or maybe he was warning them to stay on their own side of the road.

As they swerved to the right, the Cruiser hit a speed bump, knocking Leesa into Ashley. “Sorry,” Leesa said, and giggled a little, the first time Jack had heard anything like laughter coming from her.

When they finally found their rooms and got all their luggage inside, they discovered that their sliding doors opened right onto the golf course. “Hey, I could go out scouting for lost balls and sell them back to the golfers,” Jack joked.

“Check over there in front of the golf course,” Ashley said. “It’s a stable. That’s where all the horses are. Can we go riding, Mom? Please?”

“It’s too late now,” Olivia answered, “and I don’t know what my schedule will be like tomorrow. But it sure is perfect weather for riding.”

Luckily for the Landons, they were visiting Death Valley during the mild month of February rather than in the searing heat of summer, when hiking became dangerous and tourists often got into trouble. As always, when the family traveled during the school year, the kids had to bring along their homework and write papers about the park and its flora and fauna. That was an easy price to pay for the chance to see some of the greatest scenery in the United States.

“Which room is mine?” Leesa asked, picking up the shopping bag that held her clothes.

“Ours, you mean,” Ashley answered. “Whenever our foster kid—uh, I mean, our guest—is a boy, he shares a room with Jack, and I sleep on a cot in Mom and Dad’s room. If the guest is a girl, we share a room, and Jack stays with Mom and Dad. So you and I will bunk together while we’re here, Leesa.”