Yellowstone Standoff (16 page)

29

L
et's go,” Chuck said to his family, fighting to keep his voice calm. “Clarence, you first.”

Clarence entered the forest, moving quickly. Janelle and the girls hastened after him. Chuck swung his pack to his shoulders and looked back before entering the trees. The wolves held their steady lope, already past the grassy indentation where the carcass of their pack mate had lain.

Chuck hustled to catch up with Janelle, who turned to him, searching his eyes.

“This isn't normal,” Chuck admitted in answer to her unvoiced question.

“Will pepper spray work against them?” she asked.

“No one's ever had wolves come close enough to find out, as far as I know.”

“Good.” She gave a firm nod, her pony tail bouncing.

Chuck glanced back. Everyone else trailed close behind—except Toby. The lead wolf researcher stood at the edge of the trees facing the meadow, a palm-sized video camera held out before him.

Lex, following Chuck's gaze, came to a stop. “Toby,” he barked. “Put that thing away and come on.”

“This is incredible,” Toby said. “Wolves don't do this.
They don't do this
.” He didn't move.

Lex strode to the edge of the meadow and ripped the camera from Toby's hands. “Come,” Lex commanded. “
Now
.”

Toby nodded, his eyes on the wolves, the carcass of the dead wolf at his feet.

The wolves continued across the mile-wide clearing, still in hunting formation, equidistant from one another. They were close enough now for Chuck to see that two of the six wore white tracking collars around their necks.

“I don't believe it,” Toby said. “Stander Pack. All the way from Little Firehole. They crossed two passes to get here, including the Continental Divide.”

With obvious reluctance, he shouldered his pack. He hefted the carcass and settled it around the back of his neck. Holding the dead wolf in place by its legs, he made his way past Lex into the trees. Lex shoved Toby's camera in his jacket pocket and followed.

A second round of thunder rumbled from the approaching clouds as everyone hastened down the slope toward the riverbank. A lone wolf howl sounded from the meadow followed by answering yips. The chorus sent a shiver down Chuck's spine. Clarence increased his pace at the front of the line. Janelle and the girls hurried in silence behind him.

At the river, Janelle, Carmelita, and Rosie climbed into the downstream raft. Janelle fastened PFDs around the girls' chests.

Chuck cast a wary glance up the slope. The trees blocked much of his view. The forest filled with shadow as the clouds rolled across the sky, covering the sun. An arc of lightning pulsed through the clouds, the flash obliterating the shadows for an instant. Thunder rumbled from the clouds two seconds later—the heart of the advancing storm was two miles away. A gust of wind swept through the forest, whipping the treetops. The gale-force wind carried with it the singed odor of spent lightning and the scent of moisture from the lowering clouds.

Chuck motioned for Clarence to join Janelle and the girls in the raft. “I need you to run the traverse from the other bank.”

Clarence hesitated.

“Go,” Chuck said.

“Hurry, Uncle Clarence,” Rosie cried.

Clarence climbed into the raft.

“Wait on the far side,” Chuck told Janelle. “We'll head back together.”

Keith and Chance reached the riverbank, Kaifong, Randall, and Sarah close behind them. Lex and Toby trailed, still descending through the trees.

“Keith,” Chuck said. “You and Chance hop in. The rest of us will come with the second run.”

Keith tugged the dog into the lead raft and settled next to Clarence as Lex arrived, out of breath, at the river's edge.

“Help me pull,” Chuck told him.

They reared back on the looped nine-millimeter line, putting their combined weight into initiating the traverse. The rafts surged into the river, their bows aimed upstream, the current parting around them.

A second flash of lightning ripped through the clouds. The roll of thunder followed less than a second later. Thin tendrils of water rode the gusting wind, signaling the approach of heavy rain.

Upon reaching the far side, Clarence helped the girls and Janelle to shore and jumped to the bank with Keith and Chance. Clarence, Keith, and Janelle pulled on the looped rope, teaming with Chuck and Lex to speed the rafts back across the river.

Behind Chuck, Sarah cried, “There! Behind that tree.
Wolf
.”

Chuck didn't turn to look. The wolves meant no harm, he assured himself, trying to focus on the rafts.

“Should they be doing this?” Sarah asked Toby.

“It's been two years since the packs have seen anyone away from roads,” he said. “They're just checking us out, wondering what's going on, that's all.”

Chuck gave Toby's theory a mental thumbs-up. But from the corner of his eye, he saw Sarah point at the dead wolf draped over Toby's shoulders.

“That's what they want,” she said. “You shouldn't have taken it.”

“We have to do a necropsy,” Toby said. “The grizzly must have—”

“Another one!” Sarah broke in, peering up the slope.

Chuck spotted a blur of gray darting through the trees. “Everybody,” he said as the boats bumped against the shore. “Get in.”

A dog-like growl came from beyond a stand of brush several yards up the hillside. The growl ended in a sharp yip.

“I don't like this,” Kaifong said as she clambered aboard. “Not one bit.”

Chuck clung to the rope, pinning the rafts to the riverbank, and scanned the forest and shoreline. A second flash of movement caught his eye, this one at the river's edge a hundred feet downstream. The black wolf extended its head around the trunk of a stream-side tree. The wolf stared at Chuck, its yellow eyes unblinking in its dark face, its ears standing straight up.

“Another,” Chuck said. The wolf withdrew its head, disappearing from view. “They're surrounding us, pressing us against the river.”

“The carcass,” Sarah said to Toby. “Leave it for them.”

“Sorry. Not gonna happen,” Toby said.

Another growl came from up the slope.

Randall leaned the drone against the downstream raft's side and hopped in after it. Toby slung the dead wolf onto the rubber floor of the upstream raft.

The wind whistled through the trees as another crack of lightning lit the sky, this one directly overhead. An instantaneous
boom of thunder accompanied the lightning, shaking the ground beneath Chuck's feet. The first drops of rain fell from the clouds, striking the brim of his cap and wetting his face.

A wolf howled from behind a low stand of willows at the edge of the river upstream. More howls answered from the surrounding forest, riding the wind.

“Hey, wolves,” Sarah called out to the creatures from where she stood on the riverbank. “I've got a message for you. We don't mean you any harm. We just want to learn what happened to your pack mate.”

A large wolf, its fur slate gray, emerged from a thick stand of trees fifty feet up the slope. Its mouth hung open, revealing pointed teeth. The wolf barked, a single, sharp yip.

The five other wolves of Stander Pack stepped from the trees, spaced to form a semi-circle fifty feet in diameter around the researchers. The first wolf bunched its shoulders and growled, the sound emanating from deep in its chest. A curtain of heavy rain swept through the forest to the river, large drops drumming the river bank. The wolf snarled a second time.

“Into the boats,” Chuck said. Rain pelted his shoulders and head.

Rather than climb aboard one of the rafts, Sarah raised a hand to the wolves, palm out, her back to the river. “Stay where you are,” she said.

The lead wolf edged toward her. The other five wolves moved forward as well, tightening the semi-circle.

“I said
stop
,” Sarah said.

Beside her, Toby swung his pack to the ground, unzipped it, and groped inside. The wolves approached, moving in unison, closing the half-circle to forty feet. Their eyes, aglow in the shadowed forest, pierced the rain. Toby pulled a length of polished black plastic a foot long and a few inches wide from his pack as
Lex climbed into the upstream raft.

“Sarah,” Chuck urged, gripping the haul rope to steady the boats.

She climbed into the downstream raft next to Kaifong and Randall.

Toby rooted inside his pack a second time and brought out another length of black plastic, this one with a black metal tube attached.

“Toby, come on,” Chuck demanded. “Don't—”

The six wolves charged.

30

T
he wolves dashed toward the rafts in a powerful burst, their teeth bared. Chuck stumbled backward, fear thrumming his insides. His foot slipped off the bank and his boot plunged into the icy water between the rafts and shore. Screams from the girls reverberated from the far bank.

“Chuck!” Janelle cried out.

The wolves came to a unified stop fifteen feet from the boats, paws planted, muscles bunched beneath their smooth coats. The rank odor of the animals' wet fur drifted through the air.

Chuck hauled himself back up on shore with the traverse line, blinking through the downpour. The wolves crouched, eyeing Chuck and Toby on the riverbank.

“Toby,” Lex commanded.

Toby backed to the upstream raft. He clutched the black plastic pieces he'd dug from his pack to his chest; now that he had them in his hands, he didn't seem to know what to do with them.

The wolves inched closer, growling. Lex helped Toby into the raft. Chuck stepped in after him. Instantly, the rafts moved away from shore, propelled by those on the far bank.

Chuck held out a hand to Toby, who handed over the plastic pieces from his pack as the rafts surged into the current. Still crouched, the wolves advanced to the water's edge. Chuck slid the two plastic pieces against one another as the rafts tracked along the static line. The pieces snapped together with a well-oiled click. He hefted the result of the combined parts—a short-barreled break-down rifle, popular among the hundreds of out-of-state elk hunters who flew into Durango each fall.

“Shells?” Chuck asked Toby.

Toby dove into his pack. He came up with a box of 7-mm cartridges. Chuck thumbed the bullets into the rifle's magazine. Though small in caliber compared to the 9-mm version favored by big-game hunters, the lightweight gun's size was perfect for varmint control—or defensive purposes.

The wolves paced the shoreline, their eyes on the rafts.

Chuck slotted a shell into the firing chamber, slid the bolt home, and clicked on the safety. “No scope?” he asked Toby.

“My dad thought open sights would be best.”

The rafts passed the mid-point of the river. The current swept by, gurgling at the bow of the lead boat, the traverse line tight. The first wolf pawed at the water's edge and snarled at the departing rafts. At well over a hundred pounds, the wolf was the largest of the six pack members by a distinct margin. A white plastic radio collar circled its neck.

“That's right,” Lex told the wolf. “Stay right where you are.”

“Number 184,” Toby said. “Stander Pack's alpha for the last few years. She's a beauty. And a very capable leader. I can't imagine what made her decide to bring the pack here.” He rested his hand on the carcass of the wolf between his feet. “This is 217, a two-year-old male. He was really easy-going—played with the pups, got along well with the adults. We probably would've collared him this winter.”

Raindrops exploded on the surface of the river. Chuck wiped water from the sides of his face. He rested the rifle across his thighs, its barrel aimed at the pacing wolves.

“You're not allowed to have that thing with you,” Lex said to Toby.

“After what happened with the Territory Team, my dad insisted—not that I know what to do with it. He's a big-time hunter, goes after Kodiaks in Alaska every fall.” Toby looked
across the water at the wolves. “It was supposed to be for grizzlies.”

“Instead, it's your wolves that have decided to go on the prowl for some reason.”

“They must be reacting to our arrival out here in the backcountry.”

“Reacting? From forty miles away?”

“If you have any better ideas, I'm all ears.”

“What about how 217 was hanging with the grizzly?” Chuck asked.

“That I don't get at all,” Toby said. He nudged the dead wolf with his boot and shook his head.

“Neither do I,” Sarah admitted.

She and Toby exchanged glances. “I'm sorry about 217,” she said.

He dipped his head. “Thanks.”

On the riverbank, the wolves sat on their haunches, tilted their heads, and yipped and howled. Chuck thumbed the rifle's safety off and back on. Was this odd behavior the result of human interactions in the park? Or were the wolves, as Sarah believed, pursuing the carcass of their pack mate?

Stander Pack's alpha rose to all fours. Her forepaws sank into the mud at the edge of the water. She crouched, then leapt from the bank. The wolf hung in the air before landing in the river fifteen feet from shore and disappearing beneath the surface. Her head poked above the water and she swam toward the rafts, nose cutting the current like an alligator's snout, furred spine curling back and forth at the surface.

Chuck knelt in the bottom of the raft, propped his elbows on the side tube, and snugged the rifle's black plastic stock to his shoulder. Raindrops wormed their way down the back of his neck, cold and prickling on his skin. He clicked the safety off
and rested the crook of his finger against the trigger as the wolf churned closer.

“No!” Sarah cried from the downstream raft.

Chuck aimed down the barrel of the gun and fired.

31

S
arah lunged at Chuck. Randall and Kaifong dove atop her, trapping her in the bottom of their raft.

Chuck raised his head from the gun's sights. As intended, the shot had passed well above the head of the alpha and ricocheted off the surface of the river and into the trees. The result was what he'd hoped. The wolf turned and swam back to the far shore, where she emerged, dripping, on the muddy riverbank. She yipped at her pack mates lining the bank, and the six wolves trotted up the slope, away from the river's edge. The rain, sheeting from the sky, blurred the wolves' departure until they disappeared into the forest.

Onshore, Chuck emptied the gun of its bullets and gave them to Toby, then broke the gun in two and handed the pieces to him as well.

“Thank your dad for me,” Chuck told him.

Sarah confronted Chuck. “You could have killed her. She was just curious.”

“I shot above her, to keep her from crossing to our side of the river.”

Sarah pounced. “Our side? Both sides of the river are the wolves' side. The whole park is theirs.” She aimed a finger at Chuck's chest. “Clarence is right. You're so old-school. First thing you do when you get a little scared is go for a gun.” Her eyes burned into him. “You just had to bring your little girls along with you, didn't you? And now you're just like every other creature out here in the wild, willing to do anything to protect your young.”

Chuck rocked back on his heels. Sarah's words stung—because she was right. He turned away and squinted across the river. Pinpricks of yellow glowed through the rain from the shadowed forest on the opposite slope. The wolves hadn't retreated far. He climbed the slick riverbank to Janelle. “Hanging in there?” he asked.

Her wet cheeks were crimson in the cool air, her hazel eyes bright with determination. “I know we signed up for this,” she said. “But still.”

The girls huddled beside her in their raincoats, water dripping from their hoods. Chuck took their hands and turned them toward camp. The rain slowed, then stopped, as they made their way through the woods.

Back at the cabin, Lex called for an all-teams meeting as soon as everyone changed into dry clothes.

Disquiet rippled through camp with the return of the group. The members of the Grizzly Initiative huddled around Sarah on one of their platforms as she filled them in. At the other end of tent row, Toby addressed the gathered wolfies. Between the two large teams, Randall and Kaifong visited on their platform with members of the geology and meteorology teams, while Keith squatted in front of his tent, checking Chance's paw pads for injury.

Chuck took in the view to the north from tent row. The clouds remained low and dark. The wind continued to slice across the valley. Thunder rumbled over the lake, a sea of shadowed gray.

Behind him, Carmelita and Rosie chattered in the tent, comparing the Stander wolves to their grandparents' Labrador
retriever, as Janelle helped them out of their wet clothes. Rather than head for his own small tent, Clarence lingered beside Chuck.

He hung his head as he spoke, his voice low. “You're not paying me enough for this.”

“The bear did what it was supposed to do. It stopped.”

“It scared the crap out of me is what it did.”

“Me, too.”

“You were half a mile away.” Clarence raised his head and looked into the distance. “It was so big. The smell of its breath,
Dios mio
, like something rotten. They look so sleek and clean in the pictures. But up close? Its legs were caked with mud. It had a big scar on its nose. A couple of claws were broken off its front paws. And its teeth? Like a T-Rex. When it roared, it was all I could do to keep from running.”

“You sprayed your pepper spray along with everyone else. You did everything right—even if the wind screwed it up.”

“Did you see the wound on the side of the dead wolf? Its ribs were snapped right in two.”

“It definitely looks like the bear killed it. But the question is, why? They were hanging around together. It was like they were friends.”

Clarence closed his eyes. “I'm not sure any grizzly has friends.”

Lex came into sight around the corner of the mess tent. He spotted Chuck and hurried up the slope toward him, waving for him to descend.

“The satellite phone,” Lex said when they met on the hillside. “Our link to the outside world.”

“What about it?”

“It's gone.”