Wilder Boys (19 page)

“Jake, c'mon!” Taylor pleaded.

Jake's stomach clenched, but he also still felt guilty about his fight with his brother the day before.

Reluctantly, he nodded. “Okay, but we have to be careful.”

Taylor stood up and hugged his brother. “It's going to be all right. You'll see!”

After the boys packed up their things, Skeet drove them and Cody into town. He parked at a diner at the far end of the small street of businesses. “Okay,” he said. “The rangers' office is right down the street, past that motel. I'll grab some coffee in here while you boys check it out.”

“Can Cody stay with you?” Jake asked. “It might attract more attention if he's with us.”

“Sure,” said Skeet. “Cody and me'll come back and wait in the Green Monster. Afterward, we'll run Taylor by that clinic, make sure his leg is okay.”

“Thanks,” Jake said.

The boys left their large packs with Skeet, but Jake took the day pack that held their dad's journal, Bull's cash, and a couple of other items. Jake felt his heart beat faster as they made their way down the sidewalk. He didn't like that someone was looking for them—the authorities, at that—but they had to find out about their mom; Taylor had been right.

“How we gonna do this?” Taylor asked as they continued down the sidewalk toward the rangers' office.

“I should probably go in by myself,” Jake said. “You stay outside, and if anything happens, run back to Skeet.”

“Or maybe I should just go in with you?”

“Well . . .,” Jake began as they approached the motel Skeet had pointed out. “That's probably a good idea, except . . .”

“Except what?”

But before Jake had time to answer, he spotted a black truck parked on the corner, set back from the main road. Jake froze, and a wave of nausea washed through him. He recognized the truck; he would have recognized it anywhere. But he couldn't believe it. It didn't matter now that they were hundreds of miles away from home; he'd found them.

It was a trap!
Jake screamed inside his head, watching as the stocky surly figure of the man they thought they'd left behind forever stormed out of the truck and slammed the door behind him.

“Bull!” Taylor said, and gasped, grabbing Jake's arm.

“Quick, Taylor, run!” Jake shouted, springing into action, already turning away.

“Jake, I can't!” Taylor cried, and in the next instant, Bull fell upon them. Rushing around the truck's bumper, Bull grabbed the boys by their arms, practically growling with anger.

“Well, look who we have here!” he sneered.

“No! Get off of us!” Taylor cried, trying to wriggle his arm out of Bull's clutches. But it was no use. Before Jake or Taylor could react, Bull hustled them to one of the nearby motel rooms, pushed open the door, and threw the boys onto the bed, slamming the door behind him.

“How considerate of you boys to show up,” Bull said, leering over them. “And to think, I just happened to book me a room right here. Gotta say, fortune favors the well-prepared.”

“What are you doing here?” Taylor said, gasping, unable to believe who was standing in front of him.

The grin on Bull's face turned mean. “What do you think I'm doing here, you little snots? Once I realized you'd taken my cash and run away, it wasn't all that hard to follow you. You left clues across half the country—your picture is up everywhere. And lucky ol' me is the one to find you . . . and now I want my reward.”

“What are you talking about?” Jake cried.

“You got a big chunk of money of mine, and I want it back—
now
!”

“You can't do anything to us—we know you shot that guy!” Taylor told him. “The rangers' office already knows we're here and the rangers are looking for us—we'll tell them everything!”

Bull laughed. “Oh, please. Just who do you think talked to them in the first place? I knew you'd come crawling out of the woodwork once I mentioned your
mommy
.”

Jake groaned inside, his worst fears realized.

“Where is she?” Jake asked.

“You beat her up, didn't you?” Taylor demanded.

Bull scoffed. “What do
you
think? And if you don't give me my dough, I'm gonna do a lot worse to you.”

Bull reached for Jake's day pack, but Jake ripped it away. As he did so, the zipper on the pack tore open, and a few pages from their father's journal fell to the floor, including the letters to their mom. Jake sprang to the far side of the bed.

“What's this?” Bull laughed. “Moose Island? Wildflower Waterfall? Your dad really was a crackpot!”

“Stay away from us, Bull!” Jake shouted.

“Enough of this crap,” Bull growled as he pulled out the pistol the boys remembered all too well, and pointed it directly at Jake. Taylor scooted back, shielding his brother.

“Leave him alone, Bull!” Taylor shouted.

“I'll shoot both of you right now if you don't hand over that pack. I need that money!” Bull demanded.

Giving Bull's money back was the last thing Jake wanted to do, but he also knew he and Taylor were trapped. He unzipped the pack the rest of the way and removed the large Ziploc bag containing the money. Leaving the pack on the bed, he stepped around the end of it and handed the bag to Bull.

Bull's eyes gleamed as he took the money.

“You got what you want,” said Jake. “Now leave us and Mom alone!”

Bull sneered. “Oh, I've got the money. But you brats and me still got some unfinished business.”

Bull raised the revolver, preparing to strike Jake in the face with the gun. As Bull's arm began to swing, however, Jake heard a slapping sound and something sing through the air.

Bull cried out, dropping the gun and clutching the side of his face. Jake's head whipped around to see Taylor holding Jake's slingshot in his hand.

Bull bellowed and doubled over in pain, blood dripping through his fingers. Without thinking, Jake ripped a table lamp out of the wall socket and raised it high in the air before bringing it down hard over Bull's head. The big man collapsed onto the floor with a sickening thud.

Jake stared in horror at the scene. The man he'd feared for so long was laid out in front of him, crimson drops beginning to stain the shabby motel carpet.

“Oh my God,” he muttered.

“Quick, Jake, we have to go,” Taylor cried, tugging at Jake. But Jake, letting the lamp slip from his fingers, was rooted to the spot.

“I'm serious, Jake,” Taylor cried. “We have to move
now
!”

Jake just stared, wide-eyed.
What have I done?

23
Taylor grabbed the Ziploc bag full of money back from Bull and stuffed it into his pack. More pages and letters flew from his father's journal, landing on the floor—he scooped them up and shoved them in too.

“C'mon!” he said again to Jake.

“Is he dead?” Jake asked, staring down at Bull.

“I don't know—and I don't want to find out! We gotta go!”

All the color had drained from Jake's face, but the sight of Taylor bustling into action snapped him back to reality. They couldn't hang around here. Not now.

Grabbing their things, Jake and Taylor raced through the motel room door, leaving Bull and his black truck behind.

As they ran back up the street, checking behind them as they went, they saw Skeet up ahead emerging from the
Green Monster. Even from a distance, they could tell he had a worried frown on his face.

“You boys okay? What happened?”

“We need to get out of here.” Jake gulped, desperately trying to look less flustered than he felt.

“Why, what—” Skeet began, but Jake just cut him off.

“Now!”

They all piled into the truck, and Skeet headed directly out of town. As they drove, Skeet asked what happened.

Jake stalled. “They didn't know anything about our mom.”

“What
did
they say? Why are you so worked up?” Skeet continued. Jake felt like his mind was going into overdrive—the image of Bull on the floor of the motel room just kept on coming back to him, and he was beginning to break out in a cold sweat.

Taylor kept quiet and looked anxiously up at Jake, but Jake remained in a kind of trance, staring out the window.

Skeet nodded. “Fine—if that's how you want it. Maybe I should just drop you off at the police station—let them take care of you.”

“No!” Taylor said. “We've got to find our dad. If we go to the police, we'll never find him.”

“Boys, I don't know. . . .” Skeet said.

“Taylor's right,” said Jake, suddenly frantic. “Skeet, please, we've come this far!
Please.
You have to help us!”

Skeet continued driving. “Do you even know where to look?”

“Not exactly.” Jake fumbled his words. “But at the cabin, I studied my dad's notes and your maps, and I think I narrowed it down.”

Jake told him what he'd figured out, while Skeet mulled it over. “Well, that's a pretty well-known spot, but it's not easy getting there. There's no way to drive to it.”

“Can you get us close?”

Skeet stroked his beard. “Yeah, boys. I think I can.”

Skeet drove the boys back into Grand Teton National Park. As they drove through the tiny town of Moose, Taylor suddenly exclaimed, “Jake, wait a minute. This town is called Moose. Could this be what Dad was talking about in his journal?”

“Possibly,” Jake said, “but I think maybe Dad had another moose in mind.”

Skeet continued driving to Moran Junction and then turned left. Instead of driving on to Yellowstone National Park, however, Skeet turned onto a smaller road that led them to a tiny boat dock. In a small bay, a couple of dozen boats had been anchored in the calm waters of Jackson Lake. Skeet parked and turned off the truck.

“What are we doing
here
?” Taylor asked.

“Well,” Skeet answered, “look all the way across the lake. You see that steep valley?”

“Yeah.”

“That's called Waterfalls Canyon. If you look carefully, you'll see two steep waterfalls. They don't look like much
from here, but each one of them is more than two hundred feet high.”

Taylor looked at Jake. “Is one of them the waterfall Dad mentioned in his letter, Jake? How do you know?”

Jake pointed to a small low island less than half a mile offshore. “Because that's Moose Island.”

Taylor grinned. “How'd you find it?”

“I didn't until I starting looking at Skeet's maps. Then I saw that the island and the waterfalls lined up with the clues in the letter. To find directions to his hidden valley, he said to look west across the moose's neck to where the wildflower falls.”

“Those waterfalls are called Wildflower Falls?” Taylor asked, confused.

“Columbine Cascade,” Skeet clarified. “Columbine is a kind of wildflower.”

“Ah . . .” Taylor understood. “But, Jake, those falls are on the other side of the lake. How are we going to get over there?”

“Leave that to me,” Skeet said, climbing out of the truck. “Grab your stuff.”

The boys and Cody followed Skeet to a small marina building. Next to it lay a long shape under a tarp. Skeet removed the tarp to reveal a beautiful forest-green fiberglass canoe with two paddles.

“This is yours?” Jake asked.

“Yep. The guys who run the marina let me keep it here
during the summer. It saves me a lot of walking to get around the lake. Figured it might do the same for you.”

“You're going to let us take it?” Taylor asked.

Skeet grinned. “Well, you gotta bring it back if you can. Otherwise, pull it up onshore on the other side, and I'll fetch it later. It's about three miles to the other side. I figure if you paddle hard, you can make it across the lake in about an hour—unless the wind comes up. Then all bets are off.”

“There's no wind,” Taylor observed. “We won't have any trouble.”

“Don't be too sure,” Skeet warned. “I've seen boats capsize on this lake. Now, hurry up!”

The boys carried the canoe down to the water's edge, placed their packs in the bottom, and strapped on the life jackets left in the boat.

“Hop in!” Taylor told Cody, and the dog leaped into the canoe.

Before they climbed in, they each shook Skeet's hand. “Thanks for all your help,” Jake said. Despite the turmoil he was in, he knew that they couldn't have gotten this far without Skeet's help—they'd learned so much from him. It would be hard work going into the unknown without him.

“Yeah,” said Taylor. “You saved us.”

Skeet grinned. “Just returning the favor, boys. Now go on and get out of here!” With his good arm, Skeet helped push them away from the shore, and without looking back, the boys began paddling.