Chapter 11
Eleven
In nature there are neither rewards nor punishments—there are consequences.
—Robert G. Ingersoll, philosopher
Coop was lucky enough to get the last trip across Jenny Lake on the shuttle boat. An eerie stillness hung over the lake. There was a long line of people who wanted a return trip, and he was pretty sure the boat wasn’t coming back for him, at least not until the storm passed. He bolted up the narrow trail that led to Hidden Falls. No other hikers crossed his path, no birdsong filled the air. Every living creature seemed to realize a storm was heading in ... except for Kate.
Minutes felt like hours before he thought he spotted a dot of bright yellow up ahead and he quickened his pace. There she was! Blissfully unaware, standing near a cluster of rocks, framed by towering trees and a raging waterfall. He cringed. The worst place someone could be in a thunderstorm. He knew the dangers that awaited ignorant hikers—trees, rocks, and water would become conduits for deadly lightning strikes.
“Kate!” Coop’s voice was nearly drowned out by the waterfalls. “Kate!” She finally heard him as he reached her side. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
“What’s wrong?”
A burst of lightning lit the sky. Coop pointed to the ominous clouds. “That. That is on its way.” As if on cue, a thunderclap roared.
Without a word, she packed up her camera, zipped up the bag, and folded her tripod. “Let’s go.”
He grabbed her bag and took her hand to start back down the trail to the boat dock, where at least they’d have some cover with the awning.
They were drenched by the time they reached the dock. Amazingly, a towel had been left on a bench by someone. He grabbed it and handed it to Kate.
Kate dried off her face. “How did you know where I was?”
“Who else? The Grand Teton Crier.”
“Maisie.”
He nodded. “You put yourself in real danger up here.”
She looked away, as if embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”
“Why did you head up there if you knew a storm was heading in?”
“There were just a few clouds overhead when I set out. I honestly thought I had enough time to get the pictures and get back down. More than enough.” She wiped off her camera bag. “I didn’t mean to cause you concern. I was planning to head down soon.”
“Kate, you can’t be so...”
“So what?” She looked up, waiting for him to finish his thought.
“You really need to be more careful. These mountains don’t forgive mistakes.”
“I promise I’ll pay better attention to my weather app.”
“Not just that. You were hiking alone up there.”
“Not at first. Lots of hikers were heading down the hill.”
“Exactly. Heading down. Not up. You have to be more aware of your surroundings, Kate. The bears are starting to show up and they’re hungry. They’re aggressive. Especially the males. You shouldn’t hike alone. No one should. Even rangers rely on teamwork.”
“Noted.” She had a sheepish look on her face. “I really am sorry. I feel so ... dazzled by this park. Just when I think I couldn’t get a better photograph, I turn a corner and there’s an even more breathtaking view.”
“I get that.” He let out a sigh. “Do you know that bears are drawn to the color yellow?”
She looked down at her slicker. “Yellow? I wonder why?” She lifted her head. “Oh, I bet I know. It reminds them of honey.”
A laugh burst out of him. She was just so ... sweet.
She smiled. “You’ll have to try to stump Maisie with that fun fact.”
“Can’t.” He grinned. “She’s the one who told me.”
Coop’s concern for Kate during the thunderstorm was touching. And embarrassing. To think he came to find her! They sat under the dock awning, huddling close together to keep warm, the patter of rain on the roof creating a soothing backdrop to their steady conversation. They never seemed to run out of things to talk about.
She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and pulled it out to glance at caller ID. Oliver. She turned her phone completely off. “So, after the ranger talk,” she said, glancing at Coop beside her. “You mentioned you might be able to help me get a unique shot of 399. What exactly did you mean by that?”
“You tell me.” Coop turned to her, his expression guarded. “You said you wanted to know more about her. So what do you know?”
“Well, I know the facts about her. She’s a legend and the face of bear conservation around the world. I know she’s called the Queen of the Tetons. I know about her track record, that she’s the oldest known grizzly to have cubs. Eighteen at last count.”
“Twenty-two, that we know of,” Coop said. “She’s an excellent mother. She provides for them, teaches them to hunt, to stay out of trouble.”
“See? That’s just the kind of information that I’m looking for. How does she keep her cubs out of trouble?”
“She’s learned to spend time near areas with people. Male grizzlies can be a threat to cubs. They’ll kill cubs to mate with a female. But they tend to avoid people. By staying close to human activity, 399 has figured out a way to keep her cubs safe from predators. She’s even taught her cubs to look left and right before crossing the road.”
Kate couldn’t help but smile at the image of bear cubs cautiously checking for traffic. “So is that what makes her stand out among grizzlies?”
“Frankly, most female grizzlies are good mothers. But 399 is special to people. I think it’s probably because of a few stories that hit a human chord.”
Kate tilted her head. “What stories?”
“Well ... like a few years back, one of her cubs, Snowy, was killed by a hit-and-run driver. She wailed, foamed at the mouth, mourned like a ... well, like a mother would. It gave everyone a glimpse into the emotional depth of these creatures.”
Kate’s eyes widened with surprise. “Do you think a bear feels sorrow on that level?”
Coop hesitated, his gaze distant. “Hard to know for sure,” he said slowly. “But 399 definitely exhibited sorrow over Snowy’s death. And people, well, they resonated with her sorrow. She’s not just a wildlife subject. She’s got a personality, a history. People root for her, celebrate her triumphs, and mourn her losses.”
“A living, breathing legend.”
“Exactly. She’s a symbol of the wild, a reminder that even in the heart of nature, there are stories, personalities, and connections waiting to be discovered. And every spring when she emerges from hibernation, it’s a grand spectacle. People come from far and wide just to catch a glimpse of her.”
“People like me.”
He smiled. “Like you.”
Kate’s mind swirled with questions. “I read a lot about her, but I never found out how she got her name.”
“She was tagged as the three hundred ninety-ninth bear in the Yellowstone ecosystem. First one found in Grand Teton after a long absence. The bear population had been wiped out in this park by hunting. But then grizzlies were put on the endangered species list back in ... hmm ... I think it was 1975.”
“Still on it?”
“No, but they do have threatened status. Lots of conflict over that issue.”
“So tell me more about the end of hibernation.”
“Sows emerge slowly. Sows with COYs are generally the last bears to leave their dens.”
“Hold it. What’s a COY?”
“Cub of the year. Brown bears and grizzlies—and, of course you know that grizzlies are a subspecies of brown bears, though only grizzlies have that hump on their back—their yearlings generally stay with their mothers for three to four years.”
“So when you say they emerge slowly, what does that mean?”
“They start out cautiously. After emerging from the den, mothers and cubs tend to spend their first few weeks around the site. That helps the COY to slowly explore their world and start to learn some skills. Only half of COYs make it to their second year.”
Sad. Nature could be so cruel. Kate remembered going to an exercise class where the instructor wore a T-shirt that proclaimed “Say yes to the universe!” At the time, she had thought it silly. Now, she thought it foolish. The universe was heartless. It didn’t care what you thought.
Listening to the rain on the awning above them, Kate mulled over whether she could ask the question that had been on her mind since their earlier conversation. Finally, she turned to Coop. “Do you know where her den is?”
Coop shifted in his seat, his gaze flickered away, a hint of reluctance in his expression. “Somewhere near Pilgrim Creek. In the high country.”
Maybe Kate shouldn’t have asked. Or maybe ... he seemed uncomfortable because he did know.
“You do know, don’t you?” she pressed, her tone gentle but insistent.
Coop sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “This time last year, I found her den.” He rubbed his forehead. “With each passing day, I’ve thought about heading up there to check on her, to see if she made it through the winter.”
A surge of excitement washed over Kate. “Would you take me there?” she asked eagerly, her eyes shining with anticipation.
He shook his head. “First of all, it’s a difficult trip. Straight up.”
“I won’t slow you down.”
“Well, the area is restricted to the public for now.”
“We’re not the public. We’re a ranger and a photographer.”
“True, but interfering with wildlife can have serious consequences.”
“But I wouldn’t be interfering. I know the mantra—observe, don’t disturb. I have no intention of disturbing anything. But I do have an idea for a unique photograph.”
Coop narrowed his eyes. “What kind of idea?”
“I want to set up my camera and capture her as she emerges.”
“Do you realize how long that could take?”
“Not for me. My camera has a motion detection feature. If she’s coming in and out of the den, like you said, it would just be a twenty-four-hour thing.”
He glanced at her camera. “So you’d leave it and we’d come back for it?”
She nodded.
“Let’s say, just for the sake of discussion, that she ventures out of her den. Bears are insatiably curious and they have an incredible sense of smell. If she sniffs your scent on that camera, she’d tear it apart.”
“I’ll take unscented wipes and make sure I’ve eliminated every trace of me.”
“Still sounds risky.”
“It is. But I’m willing to take that risk.”
Coop hesitated, his brow furrowing with concern. “I don’t know, Kate.”
Kate nodded, understanding she was asking a lot of him.
Coop studied her for a moment, his expression softening. “Let me think about it,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice.
Kate nodded slowly, her heart pounding with excitement. She hoped he couldn’t hear its thump.
The radio on Coop’s belt crackled to life, interrupting their conversation. “Coop, where are you? Frankie said you were going after the Zoo Girl.”
Kate cringed. How many people were worried about her? Embarrassing.
“I found her, Tim.”
Tim’s voice conveyed a stern warning. “Make sure the Zoo Girl knows she shouldn’t be taking chances. Thunderstorms are no joke.”
As lightning lit the sky, following by thunder, Kate nearly jumped. She cast a glance at Coop.
“I think she realizes that,” Coop said with a grin. “Over and out.”
“Did you actually tell Maisie you were going after the Zoo Girl ?”
“I ... might have. Tim’s bad on names. I knew he’d remember that.”
Kate tried to frown, but she couldn’t keep it up. A smile tugged at her lips. That terrible nickname was stoking her inner fire to prove people wrong. There was still a story to be told about a grizzly named 399, and she was going to go after it.
And the handsome ranger with the seawater eyes was going to help her get it. Fingers crossed.
The Jenny Lake Visitor Center was packed while everyone waited out the thunderstorm. Tim was answering a day hiker’s questions when he saw Sally approach him, a concerned expression on her face.
“Tim, I need you to check on a nearby campsite. Campers have overstayed their permit, and I wonder if the rain has caused them some trouble.” Sally’s eyes scanned the storm outside. “Can you handle it?”
“Sure thing,” Tim said, reaching behind the counter for his rain jacket. “I’ll take Frankie with me.”
“Aww, man ,” Frankie said, disappointed. “Haven’t I done enough hard labor for one day?”
Tim wished Sally had heard Frankie, but she’d already moved on to another task. He thought it would be good for her to get a sense of the responsibility she’d dumped on Coop for the summer. “Maisie, stay here at the visitor center until we get back.”
To his surprise, Maisie didn’t ask to come along. He couldn’t blame her. The rain was coming down in sheets.
Twenty minutes later, Frankie followed Tim through the rain-soaked campground to the specific campsite Sally had mentioned. No vehicle, no tent, but piles of discarded items littered the campsite, food wrappers scattered everywhere, and a campfire pit filled with half-burned logs. The campers had gone but left their trash.
Frankie made a face of disgust. “If I were part of the Wildlife Brigade, I wouldn’t let this happen. What happened to the ‘leave no trace’ principle?”
“If you were part of the Wildlife Brigade, you’d be dealing with animals, not campsites.”
Frankie kicked at a pile of empty beer cans. “So much for that old saying.”
“What old saying?”
“The closer you are to nature, the further you are from idiots.”
Tim chuckled.
“You’d think so, anyway.” Frankie turned in a circle. “Man, people are so messed up.”
“Not all people.” But some sure were. Tim surveyed the campsite. “I’ll get the trash bags out of the jeep.”
Frankie groaned. “You mean, we’ve got to clean it up? In this rain?”
“More campers are due in. We don’t want them to have to face this, now do we?”
“Yeah, actually. We do. Maybe it’ll stop ’em from messing up the park.”
Tim chuckled. “Better still if they leave it the way they find it.”
They spent the next half hour cleaning up the campsite. Tim tied up the last bag of trash and tossed it in the back of the jeep.
As they made their way back to the visitor center, the rain began to ease up, and a faint rainbow appeared in the sky. Frankie didn’t say anything, but his eyes were on it. Tim hoped he felt some satisfaction in being a steward of the park. He sure did.
Inside, he spotted Sally at the far end of the room, bent over a table with Maisie, their heads close together as they pored over a stack of topographical maps. “Hey, you two,” he said, hanging up his raincoat on a coat tree.
“Hi, Pops!” Maisie said, a smile lighting up her face.
Sally looked up. “What’d you find at the campsite?”
“Nothing. Abandoned. Empty of everything except trash. So we cleaned it up. Four trash bags full.”
Sally grimaced. “Sorry about that.”
“Par for the course,” Tim said. “So what’s with the huddle?”
“I’ve been showing Maisie how to read these maps. Figured it might come in handy for her Junior Ranger badge.” Sally sounded her cool, calm, collected self, which made Tim relax a bit.
“Actually,” Maisie said, “I got my Junior Ranger badge a couple of summers ago. Pops made sure of that.”
“Right,” Sally said, looking a little embarrassed. “Well, hon, I guess you’ve been around national parks for a long time.”
“Every summer for as long as I can remember,” Maisie said proudly.
Tim felt a swell of pride at Maisie’s words, but beneath it lingered a sense of unease. He knew he was the only father figure in his granddaughter’s life. And he couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing enough to prepare her for life. Her mother certainly wasn’t. He even had to push for Maisie to get braces for her very crooked teeth, offering to cover the cost himself.
“So how’s Coop doing with Frankie?”
Tim looked behind him, thinking Frankie was nearby, but saw no sign of him. “Pretty much what you’d expect.”
Maisie’s eyes lit up. “Where is Frankie?”
“He’s around here somewhere,” Tim said.
As Maisie slipped away to go find Frankie, without her as a buffer, Tim and Sally were left in an awkward silence. What had caused the change between them? He still couldn’t figure it out.
“Hope I didn’t offend your little gal,” Sally said. “I’m not around kids much. I can barely tell a five-year-old from a ten-year-old.”
“No, I don’t think you offended her. Maisie doesn’t offend easily. She’s pretty happy-go-lucky.” With a wide-eyed innocence that Tim cherished. He knew it wouldn’t last much longer. Look at Frankie. Only sixteen, yet there was a perpetually bored look in his eyes. Clearing his throat, he said, “So I haven’t seen much of you lately. Everything okay? You seem a little ... distracted.” Cold. Distant. Aloof.
Sally’s smile faltered slightly, her eyes darting away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “Just the usual start of the season madness.” She rolled up the maps she’d shown to Maisie.
Really? Tim wondered. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Sally was holding something back, creating a distance between them that hadn’t been there before. “Well, if I can help in any way, just let me know.”
Sally nodded, her smile strained. “Just keep doing your job, darlin’. Let’s keep this park running smoothly.” She picked up the maps and left him.
And with that, Tim realized where he now stood—just another employee to her.
Wade hated to be wrong.
He had made a mistake by entrusting so much to Feldmann. He couldn’t afford any more mistakes.
With so much riding on this hunt, Wade thought it would be wise to put Feldmann’s turncoat to the test. What better way than by a real hunt? But not just any hunt would do. Elk and moose were too predictable, too straightforward. They roamed openly, making them easy targets. A bear, on the other hand, would attract unwanted attention from the park rangers.
No, Wade needed something more challenging, something that would truly gauge Feldmann’s discernment. And that’s when the idea hit him like a bolt of inspiration—a wolf hunt. Wolves were cunning, elusive, and far more challenging to track down. And they weren’t endangered, so there’d be less backlash from park rangers if they found any evidence of the poach. Unlikely, though.
With a grin spreading across his face, Wade made up his mind. A wolf hunt it would be.