The Hunted (9 page)

On the long drive to Glacier, Olivia had talked a lot about the Wind River Bear Institute. Carrie Hunt—small, blond, wiry and energetic—had devised a whole new way to handle problem bears. With pepper spray, rubber bullets, and the constant, continuous barking of her specially trained Karelian bear dogs, she aimed to teach bears to stay away from humans and from occupied places, like cabins. Sometimes a few encounters between a bear and the dogs was all it took. If the bear got the message—
Do not approach people or their things
—its life could be saved.

“After the mamma bear left with her babies,” Ali said now, “I phoned park headquarters. They told me they'd radio every law-enforcement ranger in a 20-mile radius of Quartz Creek and send them here. The rangers ought to begin arriving soon. Oh, they said to tell you kids that you gave a good description of that van. Good work, guys.”

Jack growled, “I hope the rangers get here before the poachers do. I'd just love to watch those guys get busted.”

“If
the poachers come back at all,” Olivia added. “What I'd like to find out is what they intended to do with the cubs. And if they've taken other cubs before this. If they have, that might solve the mystery of all those missing second-year cubs.”

Sounding startlingly out of place in that wooded setting, Ali's cell phone rang. She flipped it open and switched it on, then listened for a long while before she said, “Wow! OK. I'll tell them.” Closing the phone, she announced, “The state police think they've spotted the van. They didn't stop it because it looks like it's on its way back to Quartz Creek. Approximate time of arrival is 20 minutes!”

“That's a ‘wow' all right,” Jack agreed.

“There's more. Several law-enforcement rangers are near us now, but they're going to park their vehicles a distance away so the poachers won't see them. Carrie, you're supposed to move your truck a ways down the road, and you and Angela stay inside it with the dogs to keep them quiet.”

Just then two of the law-enforcement rangers arrived, their guns strapped to their belts. After a few quick words, they instructed, “As soon as we get word the van's getting close, I want all of you people to disappear. It's possible these men are armed. We don't know what we're in for. The rangers will take cover in the trees. Ma'am,” he said to Olivia, “is that your camping trailer back there at that site way down the loop?”

When Olivia nodded, he said, “I guess it's far enough away, and it's hidden behind the trees, so it ought to be safe. I want you to go there right now, and I want you and those kids to stay inside.”

“We don't want those poachers grabbing one of you to create a hostage situation,” the second ranger added.

Frowning, the first ranger complained, “Hey, Roger, you didn't need to tell them that part.”

“Thought they ought to know. It'll make them more careful,” Roger answered, checking his gun to see that it was ready.

A chill went through Jack. Hadn't they had enough scary stuff for one day? Now it looked like they'd be witness to an ambush! Miguel must be clueless about what was going to happen; Jack ought to try to explain.

 

But Miguel was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Ashley.

He found both of them huddled on the dirt under the camper trailer. “He thinks they're immigration officers, and they've come to get him,” Ashley whispered to Jack when she saw his bent head appear at ground level. “I'm trying to tell him that they're just rangers, and they won't arrest him.”

“It's OK,” Jack assured Miguel. “Remember the promise? Seattle. Promise.” Jack made an
X
on his chest with his finger. Did kids in Mexico use the same sign for “cross my heart”?

Staring first at Ashley, then at Jack with those big, dark eyes, Miguel nodded and crawled out from underneath the trailer.

T
ension mounted as more rangers arrived on foot, listening to dispatches on two-way radios, conferring among themselves. Standing just outside the Landons' camping trailer, Jack watched the rangers, impressed that they acted so professionally—not scared or nervous, like he was. Finally one of them said, “Just got the word that the delivery van is less than two miles away. On this road that means about 15 more minutes. Everyone take cover, and don't come out until I tell you it's safe.”

“Get inside the trailer,” Olivia said to the kids. “On the floor. Now!”

“But I want to see what's going on! Can I use the binoculars and watch from behind the door?” Jack asked. “The door's metal, too. I'll watch just until they drive up, OK, Mom?”

“Except we don't know where the binoculars are,” Ashley quickly added. “Do you know where Dad left them, Mom?”

“In the drawer under our bed. But I don't know if this is a good idea. It's not safe.”

“From way back here? We can hardly even see the Quartz Creek entrance through all those trees. Come on, Mom,” Ashley begged, “I want to see what the rangers are doing, too!
Please?”

Their mother hesitated. “Maybe we can lower the top part of the door, but only by an inch or two. If you see that van, then I want you down on that floor flat. Understood?”

Jack nodded. Grabbing Miguel's arm, he steered him inside the trailer, where the air was hot, the walls were made of easily penetrated canvas, and the slightly opened top section of the door provided only the narrowest view of the campground. After scrounging around in a drawer, Olivia pressed a pair of binoculars into Jack's hand. “Be careful,” she said. “And this is only till the van comes.”

“Hey, what about me?” Ashley complained.

“We'll share,” Jack told her quickly. “Just give me a second, Ashley. Then we'll trade.”

The binoculars pressed into his eye sockets as he peered through the two-inch space above the sliding art of the metal door. At first he couldn't detect a single Smokey Bear uniform, because they blended perfectly with the underbrush, but when he moved his head a little he spotted a ranger in the distance with his back against a tree. “OK,” Jack muttered to himself, “I found you guys. Now, where's the entrance?”

The loop their camper was parked on meandered south before joining the straight part of the lane, which jutted west. If he looked diagonally through the trees, Jack could barely make out a post and a bit of chain at the entrance.

“My turn, Jack,” Ashley declared, crowding next to him.

Sighing, Jack passed the binoculars. Moments later, Ashley passed them back. As the minutes crawled by, they switched places and possession, as if the binoculars were a pendulum. Miguel sat quietly next to Olivia, who was perched on her bed, nervously tapping her foot, waiting. It seemed to take forever before they heard the engine and then the sound of tires spitting stones on the rough road. Jack was lucky enough to have the binoculars in his hands when the van approached. “They're here,” he said quietly.

“Down. Now. Everyone,” Olivia ordered. As Ashley, Miguel, and Olivia dropped to the trailer floor, Jack strained for one last look. The rangers were so motionless he could barely see them. Terry and Max would never suspect an ambush.

“Heads up, rangers,” Jack whispered.

“Jack, get down,” his mother ordered.

“Just one more second!”

The engine idled as one door slammed. Max must be getting out to unlock the chain. “Don't lock it up again,” Terry yelled. “I don't want to mess with it on the way out.”

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?”

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.”