Wilder Boys (3 page)

“Because you just can't, so don't ask again.”

Taylor sulked while Jake set the gun aside, and he peered down into the hole. This time he pulled out a large Ziploc plastic bag.

“Money!” Taylor gasped.

Even through the plastic, Jake could see the blurred portraits of Benjamin Franklin and Ulysses S. Grant on bundles of fifty- and one-hundred-dollar bills. First a gun and now cash—it didn't take a detective to figure out what was going on.

“How much is in there?” Taylor asked.

Jake opened the bag and quickly flicked through the bundles of bills.

“Looks like thousands,” he told his brother.

“
Wow!
Where'd it come from?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Bull? You mean he's had money all along?”

“Looks like.”

“Well, let's take some of it.”

Again, Jake's voice grew harsh. “No! And forget you saw it. The gun and this money could get us both killed.”

“But, Jake . . .”

“I mean it, Taylor. Just forget you ever saw them.” Jake sealed the bag of cash back up and placed it and the gun carefully back into the hole. “If Bull knew we'd found this, he'd . . .”

But Jake didn't have to finish the sentence. Both Taylor and Jake had seen Bull's violent streak more than enough times to imagine the possibilities—and none of them were good.

3
Jake glanced at his mother and then outside, where the afternoon sky had begun to dissolve into dusk.

“Quick,” he whispered to his brother. “Put the tile back and follow me.”

“Why?”

Jake didn't answer, just picked up the orange shoe box and hurried back to their room, Cody and Taylor on his heels. Taylor closed the door behind them, and they sat down on Jake's bed with the box between them. Cody hopped up and sniffed the box before curling up on Jake's pillow.

Carefully, Jake leaned forward and lifted the battered lid. Taylor gasped. The box was packed with letters and cards with ragged and torn edges, some unopened but faded with age.

“I can't believe Mom was getting letters from Dad for so long,” Taylor said, thrusting his hand into the box and pulling out a handful of envelopes. As he did so, half a dozen photographs spilled out onto the bed. Jake picked one up. He recognized younger versions of his mom and dad; they were sitting on a park bench somewhere. Both of them were smiling, and a baby boy bounced on his dad's lap.

Me!
Jake realized with a shock.

“And this?” Taylor asked, and handed Jake another photo of a baby, this one dressed up in embarrassing infant overalls.

“That's you.”

Taylor's mouth dropped open. “Huh?

Jake smiled. “Yep. Look how fat you were.”

Taylor socked his brother in the shoulder. “Not as fat as you were,” he said, peering at the photo in Jake's hand.

But the photos didn't interest Jake half as much as the letters. He picked out one addressed to the boys. It was dated almost seven years ago and, like all the letters, had been postmarked from Wyoming. He removed the single sheet of paper from the envelope and began reading.

“What's it say?” asked Taylor

At first Jake was too engrossed in the letter to respond.

Taylor nudged him. “Tell me.”

“It . . .”

“It what?”

Jake glanced over at Taylor. “Dad says here that he loves the wilderness and thinks he's heard about some sort of hidden valley.”

“You're kidding! What else?”

“He's telling us and Mom that life on the East Coast was killing him—and ruining all of our lives. He says he misses us and wants Mom to bring us out to Wyoming. . . . He even says he's enclosing money for bus tickets.”

Jake lowered the letter, and he and Taylor stared at each other.

Finally Taylor whispered, “Jake, Dad really
wanted
us to be with him.”

The thought hung like silent fog between them. Jake reached back into the box. “Let's see what the rest of them say.”

The boys scoured their newfound treasure. Each letter overflowed with descriptions of Wyoming, and stories of the people there. Much like their father's journal, some letters had practical tips for living off the land, while others shared stories of encounters with wildlife and their dad's own struggles to learn how to survive. However, two themes ran through all the letters: a suspicion about the modern world, and a desperate desire to have Jennifer, Jake, and Taylor join him.

“Why didn't Mom ever tell us?” Taylor asked when they'd almost reached the bottom of the box. Jake looked up to see his brother's eyes brimming with tears.

Jake shook his head. “Maybe she really thought he was crazy. Maybe she thought she'd be putting us in danger, taking us out there.”

“But she loved him, didn't she? I mean, why didn't she believe in him? Give him a chance, at least?”

“Maybe she wanted to. But she got sick, Taylor. Remember, she had to go into the hospital?”

“Right after she met Bull?”

“Yeah.”

The boys sat there, trying to make sense of it all. Then Jake spotted one more letter in the bottom of the box. He picked it up and saw that it was addressed to their mom, but this one wasn't tattered or faded—this one was clean and recent.

Jake tore open the letter and read it aloud:

Dear Jennifer,

I've found it—the perfect place for us and the boys! Tucked away in a valley high in the Rockies, an area completely unspoiled by humans. It's the kind of place we talked about moving to when we were younger. It's a place where we can live off of the land and be away from the hassle of city life.

I know you got sick of me talking about it, but I always felt sure about this, and now I know that it is REAL! I'm writing in the hopes that if you ever need me, you'll know where to find me.

I'm not going to send you exact directions in case this falls into the wrong hands, but I will leave you pointers for how to find me at a spot nearby—where I once saw the aurora borealis when I was younger. Look out for the landmarks I have described, and I'll be there every summer, waiting for you. I know you can make it.

I love you and always will.

Abe

“Is there anything else?” Taylor asked.

Jake removed a second sheet of paper, and the boys studied it. On it their father had hastily sketched a map of a lake with a waterfall coming down into it. Across the bottom were the words
Teton NP
, along with some notes about leaving inspiration behind them and seeing the
aurora borealis. At the bottom of the page was one final sentence: Look across the moose's neck to where the wildflower falls.

“What's ‘NP'?” Taylor asked.

“National park, I think.”

“Well, what's this about inspiration—and looking across the moose's neck?”

Jake shook his head. “I guess these are all some kind of clues.”

“Not very good ones,” said Taylor, hopping off the bed. “But that doesn't mean we can't go find him!”

“What?”
Jake stared at his brother.

“Don't you see, Jake? This changes everything. Dad wanted us all to go join him! We can get out of here and away from Bull!”

Cody seemed to agree. He stood up on the bed, his tail wagging excitedly.

For Jake, though, the letters had generated a mix of emotions. Anger. Excitement. Worry. Resentment.

Even if he were looking for a lost valley,
Jake thought,
what kind of man would leave us here—and not come back to get us himself?

“So what do you say, Jake? What are we waiting for?”

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Jake said.

“What?”

“Mom.”

Taylor's face suddenly sagged. “Oh . . .”

“We can't just leave her here. Not with Bull. She needs us, Taylor.”

Taylor sat back on his own bed. “Yeah . . . you're right. I forgot.” Then his face brightened again. “What about after she gets better?”

Jake had never shared their mother's true outlook with his brother. But maybe Taylor was old enough to hear the truth.

“Taylor . . .”

His brother stared at him. “What?”

Jake tried to say the words, but he couldn't get them out.

She's probably not going to get better.

“Never mind,” Jake said. “Never mind.”

4
Bull didn't return that evening. For supper, Jake and Taylor heated up a can of tomato soup for their mother and helped themselves to more of Bull's hot dogs—cooked, this time. Later, after getting their mom settled, the boys climbed into their own beds. Jake propped up his pillows and plunged into an adventure story by one of his favorite authors, Will Hobbs. Cody hopped onto Taylor's bed and curled up next to his head. Soon Jake could hear the steady breathing of both of them from across the room. He couldn't stop thinking about the map his dad had sent. What did it mean? Finally Jake picked up a pad of paper and began doodling a picture of a moose with flowers around its neck. Then he added the word
Teton
in an arch above it. . . . It still didn't mean anything to him. But it must have meant something to his dad.

After a while Jake turned off the light and lay in his bed thinking about the box of letters, the gun, and the big bag of cash—more than enough discoveries for one day. Eventually his eyes grew heavy, and he drifted off to sleep—only to be awoken with a start a couple of hours later.

“Huh?” he grunted, rolling over to look at their clock. At first he thought it might be time to get up, but the red glowing display read only 4:28 a.m.

Then he heard Cody scratching at the front door.

“Co-deee,” Jake moaned under his breath. “It's the middle of the night. Can't you hold it till morning?”

Still half asleep, Jack staggered to the front door, where he found the terrier prancing impatiently.

“What? Didn't those hot dogs agree with you?” Jake asked as he opened the door.

Cody leaped to the ground and sprinted away.

Strange,
Jake thought to himself as he sat down in the hallway to wait for Cody to finish his business. The minutes passed, and his eyes were beginning to get heavy once again, but the dog still hadn't returned.

“Shoot,” he said, getting up. He went back to his bedroom and, still in his pajamas, pulled on his sneakers and started out of the room.

“Where you goin'?”

Jake looked back to see Taylor rubbing his eyes.

“It's nothing,” Jake told him. “I gotta go find Cody. Go back to sleep.”

Just then they heard a distant yelp.

“That's Cody,” Taylor said, bolting up. “I'm comin' with you!”

“Well, hurry.”

Taylor hopped out of bed and shoved his feet into his shoes. The brothers crept outside.

“Where'd the sound come from?” Taylor asked.

“I think down by the jungle. C'mon, let's run.”

By the light of a waning moon, the two cut to the alley behind their house and followed it to the next cross street. On the other side of the street, the neighborhood ended, but a single-lane dirt path led through some trees to a small clearing where a lot of people dumped their trash. Neighborhood kids called the area “the jungle.” Creeping silently along the track, the boys spotted Bull's truck sitting in the clearing, and next to it, a shiny black four-door sedan they didn't recognize. Suddenly they heard Bull's voice up ahead.

Jake held his finger to his lips. “Quiet.”

They kept moving forward until they could make out the dim shapes of two men in the predawn light.

Jake and Taylor crouched down behind a bush. “That's Bull,” Jake whispered. He didn't recognize the other man.

“Look, there's Cody!” Taylor hissed.

Jake squinted and saw the shape of their terrier a few feet behind Bull, staring up at both men.

From this position, Jake and Taylor could clearly hear their conversation.

“Bottom line, Bull, you messed up,” said the stranger.

“I told you. It wasn't my fault,” Bull said.

“What is this? Kindergarten?” said the other man. “It don't matter whose fault it is, you moron. We hired you for the job, and you made a mess of it.”

“How was I supposed to know the guy had company? What'd you want me to do: whack all five of 'em?”

“Ain't my problem,” said the stranger. “We paid you cash up front to do the job, and you didn't do it. Now my boss wants his money back.”

“I—I don't have it.” For the first time ever, Jake thought he could hear a note of worry in Bull's voice. “I'll do the job!” Bull said. “Tomorrow. I promise.”

“You'd better.
Or else.
”

Something in the stranger's tone made Bull's voice switch again, back to the menacing sneer that Jake knew—any trace of worry was gone. He puffed out his chest and drew himself up to his full height. “Is that a threat?” he snarled.

The assailant stuttered, suddenly on the back foot.

Bull looked crazed, like something had snapped inside him. In a single fluid movement, he whipped out a gun and pointed it at the man. Jake was pretty sure it was the gun they'd found just a few hours earlier. The stranger froze. The brothers looked on in fear.

“You should know better than to threaten me,” Bull growled menacingly. “I know how to take care of business.”

But before Bull could pull the trigger, a brown-and-white
flash darted from the undergrowth, and Cody leaped out between the two men, barking furiously.

“What the—” Bull cried, startled.

He kicked out at the terrier and spun around in confusion. Even though bushes stood between them, Jake could feel Bull's eyes burning into their hiding place.

“Quick, Taylor, get down!” Jake dragged his brother farther behind the bush. “We gotta get out of here. . . .”