Chapter 2
Two
Grand Teton has it all.
—Matt and Karen Smith, travel writers
Thirteen-year-old Maisie Mitchell was jolted awake by odd scurrying sounds echoing in the small basement. As she blinked away sleep, she saw her mom hastily packing belongings into a worn-out duffel bag.
Maisie sat straight up, alarmed. “What’s going on?”
Her mom darted around the basement, picking clothes up off the floor, with an unusual pep in her step. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up, sleepyhead. We’re going on a road trip.”
“Why?” Maisie said, her voice flat. She knew this drill. “Why can’t we stay with your friend? This basement is way nicer than the last place.” That one was infested with roaches. When Maisie would flip the light switch on, she’d see them scurry along the walls. Bleh. Just thinking of those creepy bugs grossed her out.
Her mom spun around. “We’re going on a trip to see your grandfather.”
“Pops?” Maisie brightened at the mention of her grandfather. To everyone else, he was known as Ranger Tim Rivers. To Maisie, he was Pops. She adored him. Pops looked like a cowboy, all weathered and sturdy. He wasn’t her biological grandfather; he had married her mom’s mom, whom Maisie had never met but heard countless stories about. Grandma had died when her mom was in college. Pops said that Mom’s world broke apart and had never quite mended back together since then.
Maisie adored time with Pops, but visits were usually planned far in advance during summer breaks or holidays. “Why now?”
“Sometimes, honey, the stars align just right. This is one of those times.” Her mom continued packing, but her voice held an excitement Maisie hadn’t heard in ages.
Well, as long as Pops was involved, she wasn’t going to slow this road trip down. She jumped out of bed and grabbed her jeans to change into from her pajamas.
Mom’s art friend, an older woman named Rebecca Woodbine, poked her head over the stair railing, halfway down the basement steps. “I’m packing some sandwiches for you. Peanut butter and raspberry jam okay?”
Maisie nodded. “My favorite.” Rebecca had been really nice to them. She’d met Mom at an art class Mom taught. When she found out Mom was getting kicked out of her apartment and that she had a daughter, she offered to let them stay for free in her basement. As long as they needed, she had said.
“I’ll start loading the car. Can you strip the bed sheets for Rebecca? She wants to add them to a load in the washing machine.” Mom picked up a laundry basket full of shoes and started up the stairs.
Wait a sec! That laundry basket full of shoes was a signal. Maisie turned in a circle. Yep. Mom was packing everything.
Something wasn’t adding up. “Mom! Rebecca said we could stay as long as we needed. Why can’t we come back here after visiting Pops?”
Her mom paused on the steps, her eyes lingering on the shoes in the laundry basket. “Sweetheart, it’s ... complicated. Grown-up stuff, you know?”
Maisie tilted her head, confused. “No, Mom, I don’t know. Why can’t we stay at Rebecca’s? I like it here.”
“Don’t sweat it so much, Maisie. Things are going to get better.” And off she went.
Right. Band-Aid better. Maisie knew Mom’s patterns.
She pulled the sheets off the bed and bundled them up in a pile, as Mom made trips back and forth to the car. Soon, the basement looked like it had when they’d first arrived.
“I’m going to miss this place,” Maisie said, looking around the roach-free basement that had been home for the last few weeks.
Rebecca came down the stairs to get the sheets. “It’s been nice to have you and your mom here. When my husband and I bought this house, we had a plan to create a spare room. We’ve been so blessed that we wanted to share our blessings. We wanted to create a place of respite. Provide a little extra help to someone we thought could use a helping hand or a fresh start. But somehow, we never got around to it. And then my husband passed away.” She looked around. “That was when I realized that good intentions weren’t enough. You have to turn them into reality. So, last year, I had the basement finished off. I added that little bathroom, had carpet installed, brought in some furniture. And then I prayed.”
“You prayed?” Pops did a lot of that.
“That’s right. I prayed for God to bring the right people into my life at just at the right time. So far, so good. You and your mom are my third guests.”
All code , Maisie thought, for your time is up. You’re not coming back .
Rebecca took the bundle of sheets out of Maisie’s arms and went back up the stairs. Halfway up, she stopped to poke her head over the stair rail. “Why, it just occurred to me. You’re the first kid who’s stayed here.” Then she disappeared up the stairs.
Maisie’s smile faded. “I am not a kid.”
Through the window, she heard Mom give a warning toot on the car’s horn, so she dashed up the stairs. If she couldn’t stay in Rebecca’s cozy basement, then staying with Pops in the Grand Tetons was the next best place to be. Maybe the best place of all.
The day’s forecast was full sun, no clouds. Kate was up early to head over to Oxbow Bend. Here, the Snake River widened, winding and curving in such a way that it formed the unique oxbow shape that gave the bend its name.
From what Kate had read, this was an ideal place to spot wildlife. Dawn and dusk were the hours of the day when most wildlife was active, out and about. The slow-flowing, reflective waters and the lush vegetation attracted birds and mammals. Moose might be wading through the shallows, and beavers might be busy constructing their lodges along the riverbanks. According to Kate’s guidebook, anyway.
Being here, in person, beat the guidebook’s enrapturing description. She could definitely see why Oxbow Bend, with its scenic beauty and reflective properties, was a prime location, the most photographed spot in the entire Grand Teton National Park. She knew it was the beginner’s version to Grand Teton, but in many ways she was a beginner. To wildlife photography, anyway.
Down on the bank of the Snake River, Kate set up her tripod. She wasn’t sure if she was going to use it to stabilize her camera but wanted it nearby just in case. Lifting the binoculars around her neck, she scoped the small island in the center of the river. She thought she saw something and squinted, but she couldn’t see anything other than trees and bushes.
“You’ll have to move.”
Kate whirled around. A ranger stood behind her, hands on his hips. She couldn’t make out his face under his hat brim in the dim light, but his tone struck her as someone who hadn’t had his morning cup of coffee. “Why do I have to move?”
“Jackson Lake Dam is releasing water to manage snowmelt and runoff. Oxbow Bend is downstream of the lake. That means exceptionally high water levels in the Snake River today. Won’t be long until the bank you’re standing on will be submerged. You’ll be ankle high in water. Maybe knee high.”
She sighed. Okay. Sounded like this ranger knew what he was talking about.
“And a sow and her cub might be upriver. I’m not letting any shutterbugs get too close until I’m sure they’ve moved along.”
Kate’s eyes widened. “Could she be Grizzly Bear 399?”
The ranger shook his head. “She hasn’t been seen yet. Besides, you’re in the wrong area.”
“I know. I’ve read. I should be staked out at Pilgrim Creek.” She started to pack up her equipment.
“So why aren’t you?”
“I couldn’t find a spot to put my tripod.” Countless other photographers had claimed their turf. They were shockingly territorial. Kate had not been welcomed.
He softened a little. “What time did you try?”
“Last night, before sunset.” Kate had checked in at Jackson Lake Lodge and dropped her bags in her room. She was still practically buzzing with excitement over the animals she’d seen as she had arrived in the park, so she decided to head out again—three miles north to Pilgrim Creek. She had this picture in her head—she’d scout out the perfect little spot, set up her tripod, and just wait for the magic of the wilderness to unfold in front of her camera.
Turned out, she wasn’t the only one with that brilliant idea. Dozens of other wildlife photographers had beaten her to Pilgrim Creek. There she was, thinking she’d waltz right in, only to find it was more like elbowing her way through a rock concert to get to the front row. Talk about a reality check.
In that moment, Kate discovered wildlife photography in Grand Teton National Park was a competition. It felt like a silent contest where everyone was vying for the best spot and nobody was willing to share. She had eyed a small opening between two photographers, their lenses nearly as tall as she was, and made her move. Nope, that space slammed shut before she could even introduce herself. She tried again elsewhere, but each time she found a potential spot, the gap suddenly closed. It was as if everyone was on a mission to block her out.
Shouldn’t there be a sense of community? Camaraderie? Professionalism? Disappointed and a bit irked, Kate realized the peaceful, serene photography experience she had enjoyed at the zoo was nowhere to be found here. Reluctantly, she packed up her gear and left, feeling ousted by a clique of tripod-toting rivals. So much for capturing the tranquil beauty of nature.
“You need to get there by dawn,” the ranger said. “Actually, long before dawn.”
“Before dawn?”
“Yep. At least in the last few years, 399 has made an appearance around Pilgrim Creek in mid-May, during the early hours of the morning.”
“After living in a dark, cold den for months and months, I would think a bear would want to wait until the sun was high in the sky.” She rubbed her arms. “You know, warm up those bones.”
“You’d think so, but it’s just the opposite. Bears are generally more active during the cooler hours of the day. Especially in the height of summer. They seek out food and explore their surroundings when temperatures are lower.” He picked up the tripod as she set her camera in its case. “So I take it that you’re new here?”
“New to the park. And ... new to wildlife photography.”
He stopped and turned. “And you’ve chosen 399 as your subject?”
Sure did. “That’s the plan. I’m hoping to get a shot of her that hasn’t been taken. An angle that tells an untold story.”
He cleared his throat. “But you’re new to shooting wildlife?”
“I, uh, well, yes and no.” More no than yes. “I’ve been a photographer for a zoo.”
He stopped and turned to her, his eyes wide. “A zoo ?” A rustle in the bushes hinted at a presence nearby and Kate froze. The ranger squinted. Nothing emerged. “Probably a bird.” His attention turned back to her. “So, let me get this straight. Your entire experience around wildlife is based on a zoo ?”
“It’s a pretty impressive zoo.”
“Oh, like the San Diego Zoo? I’ve heard that’s the top zoo in the country.”
“It is. But that’s not the zoo I’ve worked in.” Not by a long shot. “Different coast.”
Out of the bush came a small man, a large camera around his neck, to shush them. “Do. You. Mind .”
The ranger straightened his back. “Where’d you come from?”
“Take your party elsewhere,” the man said in a loud whisper. “There’s a bald eagle that should be feeding her young in that tree nest soon. I’ve been waiting an hour to snap a picture.”
“Oooh, I’d love to see that,” Kate said.
“You’re going to have to see it from the road level.” The ranger turned to the man. “Come on. Both of you. Away from the riverbank.”
The man muttered an unmentionable word under his breath but gathered his equipment. Still carrying Kate’s tripod, the ranger went up the steep embankment and waited until the small man staked out his new location. Then he started walking down the road to the turnout for cars. Kate followed behind, wondering if he was confiscating her equipment. He went a distance and then stopped to set up her tripod.
“Here,” he said. “This spot will give you the best vantage point to see all the way up and down the river.”
By now, the early morning sun had climbed high enough to paint the sky with its gentle glow, revealing the ranger in clear detail to Kate’s eyes. He was young. Early thirties? Late twenties? Definitely much younger than she first thought him to be. He was handsome too—not in a GQ way like her boyfriend Oliver, but in a rugged, outdoorsy way. Square chin covered with stubble. Rich auburn hair that curled slightly over his collar. Roman nose. Nice lips. In his khaki uniform, weathered boots, and stern hat, he looked every inch like a park ranger. After testing the stability of the tripod, he lifted one hand to make the thumbs-up gesture. “You’re good to go, miss, or um, missus. Or, uh, ma’am.”
It was cute, how he stumbled over his words. “Kate,” she said. “Call me Kate. I’m Kate Cunningham.”
He glanced up for a moment, and their eyes met. Met and held. His gray eyes—the color of seawater—had smile crinkles at the edges. In those eyes she saw kindness and a hint of vulnerability. It surprised her, because his deep voice resonated a kind of grouchy authority.
He looked away, as if he could read her mind and was slightly embarrassed. “Since today’s supposed to be sunny, come back at dusk and you’ll see Mount Moran reflected in the river like a mirror.” He tipped his hat. “Have a good day, Kate Cunningham.”
He started to walk away but stopped and turned when she called out, “Hey! Hey, Ranger! What’s your name?”
“Grant Cooper.”
“Thank you, Ranger Cooper.”
He cleared his throat. “I go by Coop.”
“Thank you, Coop.”
The small man popped out from behind a parked car to shush them. “Do. You. Mind .”
Kate’s eyes went wide. Where did he come from? He must have followed them! Ranger Cooper—Coop—exchanged an amused glance with Kate.
“I’ll leave you both,” he whispered, “to your photographs.” And off he went up the road.
Kate watched him for a while. She couldn’t say why, but he intrigued her. The morning sun created a silhouette shadow of him, his ranger hat clearly delineated. Intuitively, she lifted her camera to take a few shots of him. In her mind popped the perfect caption for this photograph: “Morning rays and ranger ways.”
Kate never planned to become known as “the zoo photographer with a twist” but that’s exactly what happened after she started sharing her quirky captions on Instagram. She stumbled onto her own niche without even realizing it. One of her favorites was a close-up of a mule deer, in which she captured its head in a curious tilt. Her caption: “I’m all ears.” Then there was the rare Soay sheep, staring directly at the camera with a knowing gaze, captioned “I like ewe.” Her snowy owl, featuring the bird’s perpetually annoyed facial expression (as all owls seemed to have, in Kate’s opinion), was captioned with a cheeky “When you don’t give a hoot.” These little captions brought her photographs to life, giving each animal a unique voice and personality. The zoo loved it.
Her boyfriend, Oliver, kept insisting that she should launch a line of greeting cards, that she could make a fortune. Nice thought, but Kate’s ambition had nothing to do with money. She was driven by the desire to capture extraordinary moments. And this week, she had her sights set on capturing the iconic 399 in a photograph that would truly stand out. Touch people’s hearts. Make them realize why wildlife was such a treasure, so worth protecting.
Somehow, someway, she was determined to get that shot.
She glanced up the road at Ranger Cooper, wondering if he might return to Oxbow Bend at dusk later today. She thought she might come back to see that mirrorlike reflection of Mount Moran in the river. Shifting her focus to the river, she waited for the morning’s wildlife to appear.
The sun continued its ascent, casting a warm glow over Oxbow Bend. After leaving that amber-haired zoo photographer— man , she was cute, really cute—Coop strolled along the riverbank, keeping a watchful eye on the photographers scattered around. The bald eagle had arrived at its nest with a fish in its talons, no doubt making the day for that photographer hiding in the bush. Two otters floated along the river on their backs. He thought he saw some movement upriver and lifted his binoculars. A coyote was traversing the sandy beach, slipping in and out of the willows, looking for breakfast. It wasn’t common to see coyotes here, and it crossed his mind to tip Kate Cunningham off to its appearance. He shook off that thought. Don’t be a sucker for a pretty girl, he told himself. It wasn’t his responsibility to help a photographer nail a shot. His job was to protect them from getting eaten by unpredictable wildlife. Better still, to protect the wildlife from overly enthusiastic shutterbugs.
As he rounded a bend, he spotted a face he recognized—a lanky kid with an unruly mop of hair tied by a red bandana and a perpetual look of cynicism etched on his face. Frankie, his roommate. Sent by his government-employed father to enjoy a free summer in the park.
“Frankie,” Coop called, waving him over. “What are you doing here?”
Frankie ambled toward Coop. “The drill sergeant told me to shadow you.”
Drill sergeant? “Oh, you mean Tim Rivers? He’s supervising the YCP? I thought there was a designated ranger to oversee it.”
“Apparently, there’s been budget cuts this year, so Ranger Rivers volunteered to pull double duty.”
That sounded like Tim Rivers. It also sounded like the NPS. Despite skyrocketing visitations to many of the parks, it hadn’t translated into much of an increase in federal funding to maintain and staff them.
Still, it might’ve been nice to know that Tim was assigning this kid to shadow Coop. “Did Tim say if you’re assigned to me just for today? Or every day?”
“Dunno.” Frankie shrugged. “Ranger Rivers said you’re on the lookout for rogue photographers.”
“More like wildlife enthusiasts who turn rogue.”
The kid rubbed his hands together. “Now that sounds more like it! What’s on the agenda?”
For the first time, Coop saw a spark of interest in Frankie’s eyes. He explained his tasks for the day, which included monitoring wildlife activity, checking designated trails, and ensuring photographers maintained a safe distance. Frankie listened with a mix of skepticism and genuine interest, occasionally interjecting sarcastic remarks. Their banter continued until they reached a high vantage point overlooking Oxbow Bend. Coop pointed out key spots for monitoring wildlife and ensuring the safety of the photographers.
As they walked, Coop shared some insights about wildlife behavior and the delicate balance between allowing visitors to appreciate nature and ensuring the safety of both humans and animals. “Take this morning,” he said, turning back to where Kate Cunningham stood behind her tripod. “That woman over there is new to wildlife photography, and she thinks she’s going to get a winning shot of Grizzly 399.”
Frankie’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. Then he whistled two notes, one up, one down. “Aww. Yeah!”
Coop frowned. So maybe he had noticed Kate’s attractiveness. “Her looks aren’t important.”
“Dude.” Frankie snorted. “There’s nothing more important than how a girl looks.”
Coop shot him a look of disdain. “The point I was trying to make is that she might be unaware of danger. Her entire experience with wildlife is based on photographing animals in a zoo. Yet she’s convinced she’s going to get a shot of 399 that’s new. Something different than any other photographer has gotten.” Sorta sweet. Naive, but sweet.
Frankie hadn’t stopped gawking at Kate Cunningham. “I think I might be in love with her.”
Coop ignored him. “So our job is to keep people like her from getting maimed or killed.”
“The drill sergeant described our role very differently.”
Our role. That sounded like Frankie would be shadowing Coop for more than one day. “How so?”
“He said—and I quote—you and Coop are to help provide a positive, enriching experience for those photographers who seek out the wonder of the wilderness.” He smiled, ear to ear. “Perhaps I should go introduce myself to the Zoo Girl.”
As Frankie took a step in Kate’s direction, Coop grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. The raging hormones of a teenaged boy , he thought, rolling his eyes. Their brains went south. As soon as Coop crossed paths with Tim, he was going to see about getting Frankie reassigned. Maybe to laundry duty. Something to clean up his mind.
“First,” Coop said, “you need to head downriver and get a couple of shutterbugs off the bank. But don’t call them shutterbugs. They’ll take offense and complain to the visitor center. Politely ask them to move up to the road.”
“What do I say if they ask me why they have to move?”
“Tell them that the water level will start rising soon. The Jackson Dam is releasing water this morning.”
“Where are you going?”
“Upriver. A sow and her cub were spotted last evening, and I want to see if they’ve returned.”
“I’d rather go with you. A bear sounds a lot more interesting than chasing off photographers.”
Coop chuckled. “You know the routine, kid. Glamorous jobs are reserved for the senior rangers.”
Frankie scowled. “Yeah, yeah. I know all about the privileges of senior rangers.”
Coop pointed in the opposite direction of Kate. “You go that way. Meet me back here when the sun is completely visible.”
Just then, a distinctive sound echoed through the air—an elk bugle. The two turned toward the source, spotting a majestic elk far downriver, its antlers silhouetted against the morning sky.
Frankie raised an eyebrow. “That’ll wake up any and all campers.”
“Nature’s alarm clock.” Coop chuckled. “That reminds me. Starting tomorrow, Ranger Rivers has put me on duty at Pilgrim Creek’s overpass. That means an early start to our day.”
Frankie’s brow furrowed. “How early?”
“Super early. Four a.m. early. And it’ll keep on starting at four o’clock until Grizzly Bear 399 emerges.”
“What if the bear didn’t make it through the winter? What if she’s dead?”
“She’s not dead.” Coop sure hoped not. “We’re going to be there waiting for as long as it takes her to emerge. Up at four a.m., every single day.”
As the elk’s bugle resonated once more, Coop couldn’t help but feel a sense of delight at the horrified look on Frankie’s face.
He neatly folded his camo clothing—hat, trousers, shirt—and packed them into his suitcase. These were his lucky garments, though he’d never considered himself superstitious until he realized they always seemed to accompany his success. He also packed his favorite disguises, the ones that never failed him.
Tomorrow morning, he had a flight to Jackson. If time allowed, he always preferred to drive. But time was short. As he finished his packing, his phone buzzed with a text notification. He checked it.
Getting things organized.
Wade texted back:
Good. I want everything to be in place before the sow shows herself.
Finalizing things with the turncoat. Is there a $$$ limit?
Wade smiled. Of course there was no limit. He would spare no expense for this particular living room rug. It was priceless.
No limit.