Capture the Moment (National Parks Summers #1)

Chapter 1

One

In every walk with Nature one receives far more than he seeks.

—John Muir, conservationist

Kate Cunningham’s eyes widened with awe as Grand Teton National Park unfolded before her, a sight so breathtaking that it forced her to pull over to the side of the road. No amount of research could have truly prepared her for the spectacle that lay ahead: a sweeping valley floor pushing right into the steep granite peaks of the Tetons, still covered with snow.

She sat in silence, mesmerized by those peaks, until the awe overwhelmed her and she had to look away. In the meadow in front of her, Kate spotted an elk grazing. The quiet beauty of the scene stirred something within her. Without a moment’s hesitation, she leaped out of her car and popped the trunk to retrieve her prized possession—a brand-new Sony Alpha1, heralded as the epitome of wildlife photography cameras. Working at a zoo to create a portfolio, padding her meager income with gigs from bar mitzvahs to weddings, and surviving on a diet of Top Ramen had led her to this moment. Kate was on a mission.

Just as she attached her zoom lens to the camera and focused in on the elk, her eyes widened in amazement as a black bear emerged from the tree line. Following behind her came two cubs.

A flare went off in her heart. She’d barely arrived in the park and she’d already seen more wildlife in two minutes than she’d hoped for in two days! With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, she aimed her lens at the sow and her cubs. As the black bear lumbered away, she looked at the images she’d taken. Good, really good, but not unique. Not noteworthy. Not for National Geographic , anyway.

With a vague promise from a Nat Geo editor dangling like a tantalizing carrot, Kate had set her sights on capturing a unique photograph of the world’s most famous bear—Grizzly Bear 399. The editor, a woman she’d met at the zoo a few weeks ago, had said that if Kate could deliver that shot, she would take a serious look at it. But, she said, she would need to see the photograph by the end of May. She handed Kate a piece of paper with her email scribbled down. It was the closest Kate had ever been to a breakthrough opportunity, and she was determined to seize it. Within her grasp was her dream—to be a wildlife photographer.

Stopping at the Moose Entrance, Kate had learned that Grizzly 399 hadn’t emerged from hibernation yet. “Then again, she might be dead,” the ranger said in a matter-of-fact way. “She’s an old lady, you know.”

Oh yeah, Kate knew. She had studied everything there was to know about 399. This bear was iconic, known particularly as a wise and vigilant mother.

The bear’s age was the reason that the Nat Geo editor said she wanted a close-up picture—everyone assumed this could be the bear’s last summer. From what Kate had read, and from the grim remark by the ranger, that was a reasonable assumption. No one expected Grizzly 399 to survive yet another winter. Year after year, she kept surprising them. Kept emerging from her den, often with new cubs. A few years ago, she came out of hibernation with quadruplets—a rare occurrence for a sow. Keeping four cubs well-fed and well-protected was no small feat for a bear of any age.

This summer could be the start of Kate’s wildlife photography career. She could sense it—something was coming her way. Something that could change everything.

And if she missed it, she’d be back to the zoo.

She reminded herself that it wouldn’t be the worst thing to go back there. It was steady work. She shot pictures of the animals for exhibit signs, as well as for publicity and marketing. Locally, she’d been gaining a bit of recognition after adding quirky captions to the zoo photographs she posted on Instagram. One of her hits was a group of majestic giraffes all looking in unison, with a mischievous monkey photobombing in the background, hanging upside down and looking utterly ridiculous. Kate’s caption for the shot: “The relative who never gets mentioned.”

She took a few more photographs of the elk grazing in the meadow. Such a peaceful moment. She was tempted to stay longer, but she wanted to check in at Jackson Lake Lodge, get something to eat, and plan out her locations for the week. It was one thing to read a guidebook about the national park, it was another thing to be here, surrounded by its vastness. Its grandeur.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, God, for bringing me here.

She put the cap on her camera lens, satisfied. This, she thought, was a good note to end her first day on. A very good note.

Grant Cooper, known as Coop in Grand Teton National Park circles, stepped into park headquarters with a pretty strong suspicion as to why he’d been summoned. His boss wanted to chat. Coop couldn’t help but find it ironic—District Ranger Tim Rivers, a man not known for his chatty nature, calling him in for a conversation. Then again, Coop wasn’t much of a talker either, and that’s one reason they got along so well.

Coop lived all year for summer months in the mountains. The rest of the year, he traded his seasonal ranger hat for the role of a high school biology teacher at a private high school in Salt Lake City, attempting to cram knowledge into the minds of bored teenagers until he ran out of words and patience by May, when the school year ended. Summers, however, were his escape, a time to protect grizzly and black bears and recharge his soul. Bears, especially, held a special place in his heart.

But this summer season, which kicked off recently, had started out on a bad foot. It was a record year for snowfall, with the park entirely socked in. In a regular year, most of the snow was gone by July and August, the heaviest tourist season. But this wasn’t a regular year. It was mid-May, and there was still an enormous amount of snow and ice to melt from the mountains, creating dangerous conditions for inexperienced hikers—which, in Coop’s eyes, were most of them.

A series of encounters with clueless tourists had left Coop frustrated much earlier in the season than usual. German backpackers disrupted a herd of elk for selfies, a day packer attempted to feed a granola bar to a bear cub, claiming he was “connecting with nature,” and the grand finale—a camper had no clue how to put his borrowed-from-his-neighbor tent together. That was the clincher for Coop. It was a classic tip-off to rangers. When campers had no idea how to erect tents, they had no business hiking in the backcountry.

At that point, Coop’s short fuse had heated to the point that these misguided campers complained to park management, which led to this moment in Tim Rivers’s small office in the park’s headquarters.

Tim sat across from Coop in his perfectly pressed uniform, with a badge gleaming on his chest. On a corner of the desk sat his wide-brimmed hat. He was a quintessential parkie and had been assigned to numerous parks, all over the country. Coop met Tim a few years ago, when he’d given a talk at Coop’s high school about a career in the National Park Service. Afterward, Coop introduced himself, explaining that he had spent every summer of his life backpacking in the national parks. It was the main reason he had chosen teaching as a profession. Like everything in life, Coop took teaching seriously, he gave it everything he had, but he wanted his summers free for the wilderness.

Tim convinced Coop to work as a seasonal Jenny Lake Ranger at Grand Teton National Park, sealing the deal when he described the work of a backcountry ranger. Remote. Isolated. “You’re already doing it,” Tim had said. “You’re a seasonal vagabond. Why not earn money and do a little good for the world while you’re at it?”

So, for the last two summers, that’s exactly what Coop ended up doing. Being a seasonal Jenny Lake Ranger was just the right fit for him, kind of like teaching but with even more passion poured into it. He was all in—maybe even more than that. The gig just clicked for him; his hair got all wild, shaving felt optional, and he took on a rugged, work-hardened look. It was like he turned into the opposite of Mr. Cooper, the biology teacher at the high school who rocked a tie every day. For him, being a seasonal ranger was like hitting the jackpot—a chance to hang out with nature all summer, far from the hustle and bustle of regular life. Far away from entitled teenagers, far away from most human beings. A certain female named Emma, in particular. The Emma Dilemma, he called it.

It had been a perfect job until now.

Sitting in Tim’s office, Coop wondered if this was the way his students might feel when summoned to the principal’s office. Defensive. Indignant. Misunderstood. “Tim, I was only doing my job. Those tourists were deliberately ignoring rules of the park. Rules that are posted everywhere .”

“I don’t disagree with you, but the park service is under fire to reexamine its training regarding insensitivity.”

Coop slapped his palm against his chest. “Tim, how is it insensitive when I’m trying to stop some tourist from getting way too cozy with a wild animal she thinks is just ‘the cutest thing’?”

Trying unsuccessfully to swallow a smile, Tim paused and dropped his chin. When he lifted his head, he was back to business. “Coop, you know as well as I do that the official policy of the NPS is to not make fun of tourists.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Coop knew.

“Let me ask you a serious question.” Tim leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “What concerns you more? The people or the animals?”

Coop’s eyes narrowed. “Is this a trick question?”

“The tourists reported that you called them idiots.”

Did he? He might have. They were idiots.

“Clueless,” Tim continued, leaning forward to read off the report. “Oblivious. Ignorant. Illiterate.”

Yep. Coop might have added a few more adjectives. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll be more careful.” He started to rise from his seat, but Tim shook his head.

“Sally wants to reassign you.”

Coop plopped back down in the seat. Great, just great.

If Tim Rivers was a true parkie, Sally Janus was a park lifer. She was acting chief ranger of Grand Teton National Park, but she sure wasn’t acting.

Most likely, if you asked someone to describe a female chief ranger, they’d come up with a rather robust woman. Strong, big, fearless. Sally was petite, barely over five feet tall, bright bleached-blond hair, with a squeaky little-girl voice. She reminded Coop of Dolly Parton. Coop found her to be an interesting person. And Tim thought so too, far more so.

Coop knew from Tim that the National Park Service path to career advancement was full of bureaucratic red tape. Qualified rangers competed for the same top positions via a point system. So most of the high-ranking rangers Coop worked with, like Tim and Sally, had earned their points at less popular parks or historical parks, waiting to get appointed to a promotion at a popular park. Or they would take an acting role at a more popular park, like Grand Teton, and wait.

And that’s what Sally was currently doing. As acting chief ranger, she was responsible for overseeing all aspects of the park, from law enforcement to resource management. Her word was law in the park.

Great, just great. So ... he’d been yanked from the backcountry. His mind raced through the dreaded possibilities—visitor center duty, trail maintenance. Nope, he couldn’t face it. “Tim, if I can’t be in the backcountry, I’d rather not be a ranger. I’d rather just spend my summer with a backpack. I quit.”

“Too bad. You signed a contract,” Tim said, unfazed. “We’re not about to lose that sixth sense you have. You’re one of the best bear managers I’ve ever seen. Somehow you know the whereabouts of bears before anyone else. Including the full-time Jenny Lake Rangers. And even if you’re not in the backcountry, you’ll still be managing bears.”

“What?” Coop squinted. “Please tell me you don’t mean that I’ll be directing traffic for bear jams.”

“At times, yes. But Sally mostly wants you to manage the photographers who are angling for the best wildlife shot.”

Worse than bear jams. Coop squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. “I don’t get it,” he said, opening his eyes. “How could it possibly help the park’s insensitivity problem to assign me to babysit bear paparazzi?”

Tim pointed at him. “For that very reason. We’re going to show the world that Grand Teton National Park encourages people and wildlife to coexist. We are going to help wildlife photographers do their work, but safely, from a distance.” Growing serious, he leaned forward on his elbows. “Look, I agree with Sally on this. I’d feel better if you were down in the valley too. There’s chatter about a poacher who thinks it’s time to take 399 as a trophy.”

“Is it a credible threat? Seems like every year we hear similar rumblings.”

“Not sure.” Tim seesawed his hand in the air. “And I’m not sure how many years the old girl has left.”

“Then doesn’t it make more sense to keep me in the backcountry? Keeping an eye on her?”

Tim shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, Sally’s replaced you with Gallagher, Baker, and Spencer. Three rangers.”

Coop sighed. Three rangers who were more like the Three Stooges. But if Sally had made up her mind to reassign him, there was no way around it. And Tim wasn’t going to intervene. Added to her authority was that Tim was sweet on her. His gruff voice got soft and gooey when he talked about Sally. Coop had warned him not to get involved with someone he worked with, especially not a boss, but did he listen? Nope.

Tim pushed an envelope across the desk. “Here’s a plus. In that envelope is your key. I was able to get you in park housing near Jackson Lake Lodge. I tried to get you a trailer, but they were all spoken for.”

“Those dorms?” Coop groaned. “Tim, I’m not a kid.” That meant he would have a roommate. That meant sharing a communal bathroom. That meant the only time he’d be sleeping in the great outdoors was when he had time off. “Are you trying to punish me?”

“All ages live in those dorms. You know that. All genders too. Might end up being good for you. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet the woman of your dreams.” He grinned. “My mother used to say there’s a match for every flame.”

Now Tim was pushing Coop’s buttons. This was a touchy subject.

“There’s a shoe for every foot.” Tim’s eyes danced with amusement. “A key for every lock.”

With a huff, Coop scooped up the envelope with the key to his dorm room and stormed out to Tim’s loud guffaws.

Twenty minutes later, Coop parked his truck in the massive parking lot at Jackson Lake Lodge, swung his backpack over one shoulder, and walked toward the dormitories, frustrated and annoyed. He slid the key into his room’s lock, pushing the door wide open. The small room held two twin beds, a couple of desks, three built-in bureau drawers, and a window offering a view of the majestic Tetons.

That was a plus.

Then came the minus.

On the bed closest to the window was a scrawny kid with a mop of unruly long hair, a red bandana tied around his forehead. He had earbuds in, listening to something on his phone. He looked at Coop as curiously as Coop looked at him.

“Aww, man,” the kid said, sounding disappointed. “Don’t tell me I got stuck with a roommate after all. And they sent in Smokey the Bear? I bet my old man’s behind this.”

“Hello to you too.” Coop unloaded his backpack on the empty bed.

“Sorry. I’m just bummed to have to share my space.”

As was Coop. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Nope. Done for the day. I’m just sitting here contemplating the existential path of mankind.”

In the middle of zipping his backpack, Coop stopped and turned. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.” The kid sat up and slapped his hands on his knees. “Call me Frankie.”

“I go by Coop.” But if this kid were in Coop’s biology class, it would be Mr. Cooper, the only teacher who wore a tie.

“Coop ... like a chicken coop?”

“Like my last name is Cooper.”

“Ah, like Alice Cooper,” Frankie said, his tone an odd mix of enthusiasm and cynicism.

“Yeah, something like that,” Coop said, suppressing a smile. “A little less makeup.” He gave him a sideways glance. “Where are you working this summer?”

“I should be in the Wildlife Brigade.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“Apparently, you have to be eighteen years old or have parental permission .” Frankie said it with a sneer. “But my old man decided I needed some”—he wiggled two fingers for air quotes—“character-building experience.” His face contorted into an exaggerated frown. “So, here I am, serving time in the glorious Youth Conservation Program.”

“So what exactly are you doing?”

“So far, I’ve been assigned to cleaning toilets and unclogging bear-proof trash bins.” Frankie hopped off the bed with a lackadaisical stretch. “You seem pretty old for the Youth Conservation Program.”

“That’s because I am.” This kid could use a filter on his mouth. “I’m a seasonal ranger. For the last few summers, I’ve been assigned to the backcountry.”

“Now that sounds like a worthy and noble occupation.” Frankie’s eyebrows lifted, his expression serious. “So what happened to turn your luck for this summer?”

“Assigned to manage the valley’s wildlife photography. Bears, mostly.”

Frankie’s eyes widened, then he burst out with a scoff. “Dude, what a comedown. You’re the official bear photographers’ manager.” He couldn’t stop chuckling. “Man, you must’ve done something really stupid.”

Coop opened and shut the drawers, finding them full of Frankie’s jumbled clothes. “Hey, I’m going to need some space.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just empty one out.”

“I’ll empty two out.” Coop scooped up Frankie’s clothes and dumped them on the floor. He gave his obnoxious roommate a look . “Privileges of age.”

Wade Schmidt tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk, glancing at the clock every few seconds. He expected punctuality, especially from those who worked under him. Finally, the phone rang, and he picked it up with a swift motion. “Feldmann, you’re late.”

“Apologies,” came the response. “This case requires meticulous planning.”

“Any sign of it?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Good,” Wade said, nodding. He glanced out the window, noting the overgrown grass, and made a mental note to speak to the gardener later. He prided himself on attention to detail, something he expected from everyone who worked for him. “I want a good hunt, Feldmann. Better than good.”

“I assure you, sir, I’m doing everything in my power to ensure that.”

“Timing is crucial. This needs to happen before it’s seen. Within the next two weeks.”

“Understood.”

“And you’re confident you’ve chosen the right person for the job?”

“Absolutely. As you said, a disgruntled insider makes the perfect turncoat.”

Wade leaned back, running a hand over his face. Feldmann’s reassurances were comforting, but he needed results. “Keep me updated on every development.”

“You can rely on me, Mr. Schmidt.”

“Can I?” Wade’s skepticism rose a notch. “So far, your efforts seem more focused on negotiations than actual scouting.”

“Well, it’s this bear, sir. It’s the prize everyone wants.”