Chapter 15
Fifteen
Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like autumn leaves.
—John Muir
Tim made his way toward Sally’s small office in the back of the visitor center, his footsteps echoing down the dimly lit hallway. The conversation with Coop and Kate had left him on edge, suspicions gnawing at him, and there was no way he was going to be able to sleep until he spoke to Sally. To ask her, straight up, where she’d been earlier tonight. He drove by her cabin, but her jeep wasn’t there and the lights were out. Sally was a night owl. He decided to drive over to her office and see if she might be there. If nothing else, he wanted to see if her rifle was in the rifle case. It was always there, unless she was at target practice or needed it for official use. She wasn’t a sport hunter. And if it was in its place, he could rest easy tonight.
Reaching the visitor center parking lot, he didn’t see her jeep. He parked far off in the distance and fished his flashlight out of the glove compartment. Using his key, he went into the darkened visitor center, down the hallway, and knocked on Sally’s door—knowing full well she wasn’t there. Nervously, palms sweating, he slipped inside to shine the light on the rifle case against the wall. That’s all he wanted to see. The only reason he was here, skulking around in the dark like a cat burglar. His heart hit the floor.
Sally’s rifle wasn’t there.
Before he could dwell on the implications, he heard voices coming from the interior door of the visitor center, and then a shuffle of footsteps approaching. Panic gripped him, and he ducked into the closet, pulling the door closed behind him just as Sally entered the room. He felt foolish, immature, and overreactive. He would make a very bad spy. He thought about showing himself...
...until he heard a man’s voice.
Holding his breath, Tim strained to hear the conversation, his heart pounding in his ears. Ear against the door, he heard the man say something that sent a shiver down his spine.
“So as soon as my client bags it, you’ll get your money.”
“Oh no,” Sally said. “We had an agreement, darlin’. Fifty percent now, fifty percent after he’s got what he came for.”
Tim’s pulse quickened. Money? What money? And bagged what?
The response came in a low murmur, barely audible through the closet door. “Fine. Fifty percent now, and fifty percent after the bear pelt is in my client’s trunk.”
“You ever going to tell me,” Sally asked, “just who this client is?”
“I’m not.” Then came the sound of a thunk on top of the desk, a crisp thank-you from Sally, and the sound of a metal drawer opening and shutting.
As the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, a sickening realization washed over Tim. He couldn’t believe Sally—the best, most dedicated ranger he’d ever known—could be involved in plundering the park’s wildlife for profit. His Sally. His sweetheart.
Tim strained to listen as Sally and the man continued their conversation. He heard the door open and shut, then their voices grew faint as they moved down the hallway toward the door that led to the area open to the public.
As soon as he heard the door click shut, Tim opened the closet a smidge to peer out. Empty. He let out a breath of relief. The lights were off, and he heard the sound of cars start up outside, so he assumed they wouldn’t be back. Quietly, he slipped out of the closet. He turned his flashlight on and noticed that her rifle was now back in the rifle case. He shone the light over Sally’s desktop, cluttered by the familiar maps and paperwork that constituted her daily routine.
The bottom left drawer of her desk was slightly ajar and he pulled it open to find a fat envelope. He grabbed the envelope and peered inside to find a thick wad of hundred-dollar bills. Heart pounding, he tucked it into his shirt and headed down the hallway and out the back door.
No. He wasn’t going to rest easy tonight.
Coop couldn’t shake off the odd encounter he’d just had with Sally Janus. In the middle of the night, she’d woken him and told him to meet her in the parking lot. “Now,” she said. “I’m waiting for you. And come alone.”
Wide awake, he quickly threw on some clothes and ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what was happening. Meanwhile, Frankie was still in the land of Nod, snoring loudly. Oblivious.
Outside, it took Coop a while to find Sally’s jeep. It took her flashing her headlights once or twice for him to notice where she’d parked. He climbed into the passenger seat. “What’s up?”
Sally looked Coop right in the eyes. “You know where 399’s den is, don’t you?”
When he started to sputter that he wasn’t absolutely sure, she waved him off, as if she knew that he knew. And he did.
“Tomorrow,” she said, “I want you to hike up Pilgrim Creek and find out if she’s alive. If there’s any evidence that she’s left the lair, let me know. Report back to me with coordinates. Use my cell phone, not the radio.”
“Why? What’s the deal with all the secrecy?”
“Extra precautions to protect her.” She pointed to him. “Tell no one if and when and where you see her. Only me. That’s an order.”
Stunned, Coop didn’t know how to respond. Something seemed shady. Sketchy. He thought about asking Sally if she’d been at Willow Flats and fired a shot ... but he held back. Tim seemed so sure that Sally wouldn’t have missed her target. From the look on her face right now, Coop thought he was probably right. She might be small, but she could be fierce.
“Have I been clear, darlin’?” Sally said, softening a bit.
“Crystal clear.”
“Then, off you go. Nighty night.” To underline the point that this discussion was over, she started up her jeep. He had hopped out, glad this odd midnight rendezvous was over.
Candidly, he was not at all unhappy to be given an order to go find 399. He’d been wanting to head back up there. Sally had said not to tell anyone if and where and when he saw evidence that 399 was alive ... or dead. She didn’t tell him not to bring anyone along with him. The buddy system was always the best system.
So why not invite Kate along? The den was at a high elevation, but she seemed to be in good physical condition. If he took it slow and steady, he thought she’d be up to the steep hike. And it could give Kate an opportunity to capture that one-in-a-million shot she wanted. Just so long as Sally never found out how she got it.
The morning mist hung low over Pilgrim Creek as Kate set up her camera, waiting along with dozens of other photographers for a first glimpse of 399. The other photographers leaned against their cars, talking quietly. Everyone was waiting, waiting, waiting. Growing impatient.
Kate heard someone call her name and turned to find Coop approaching.
“Morning,” he said softly, his breath forming small clouds in the chilly air.
“Good morning, Coop,” she said, a smile spreading across her face.
Coop glanced around before leaning in closer. “Thanks again for sharing those photos last night.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
He took another step closer to her, his eyes fixed on the tree line. “If you have time today, I thought I could make good on that promise to help you out.”
Kate’s heart skipped a beat. So he had decided to help her! She tried to keep her cool on, whatever Frankie’s saying meant. “Has there been a sighting of 399?”
Coop held up a hand. “Not yet. And no promises for one, either. We still don’t know if she’s made it through the winter.”
Kate nodded eagerly, barely able to contain her excitement. She loved that he called the bear a her , not an it . “I understand. Coop, thank you.”
Down the line of photographers, he squinted. “Frankie! You’re not to take food from the photographers.”
Halfway through a doughnut, Frankie frowned at him with a look on his face like, What’s the big deal?
“That kid.” He let out a weary sigh. “I’d better go. Meet me at the Jenny Lake Visitor Center at noon. Be sure you’ve had something to eat. Wear a lot of layers and good hiking boots. We’ll be going through snowy areas. And bring plenty of water. It’s a long hike.” He took a few steps, then stopped and turned around. “Maybe you should take my phone number, just in case you change your mind.”
Oh, trust me. Nothing could stop me from this mission . She pulled out her phone and handed it to him. “Enter your number and I’ll text you back so you’ll have mine.”
Coop grinned. He took her phone and typed in his contact number. “See you at noon.”
Noon. Seven hours from now. How was Kate going to wait so long?
She found herself torn between two equally exciting prospects: the chance to capture 399 in a photograph, and spending a whole afternoon with Coop. It was a surprise even to herself—she was ready to tackle a treacherous, snowy, uphill trek into the wilderness, if it meant Coop would be right by her side. This kind of bravery was new to her, but she was willing to embrace it for the sake of this adventure.
A few hours later, after a shower and shampoo, Kate gazed in the mirror one more time. She looked as if she was going out on a date. Not what she was after. She gathered her hair up and put it into a ponytail, wondering if this was what Maisie was trying to imitate. She eyed herself. Yes. Casual but serious. Relaxed but focused. Laid-back but purposeful. She checked her camera bag a second time, just to make sure all batteries were fully charged. Her phone rang and she picked it up without checking caller ID, thinking it might be Coop.
“Katie-Kat! Where have you been? I’ve been calling and texting. I’ve been worried!”
She glanced at the clock near the bed. “Oliver, I’m sorry. This isn’t a good time to talk. There’s someplace I need to be in a few minutes.”
He let out an irritated huff, loud enough for her to hear. “What about later? What time will you be back?”
She knew he was annoyed, but she was glad he didn’t pry any further. She could feel guilt creep over her. Guilt about avoiding him. Guilt about her delight in spending the afternoon with Coop. She cupped her forehead with her free hand. “I’m not exactly sure.”
“Before sunset?”
“Yeah, definitely. I would think so. I’ll be back before sunset. I’ll try and call you later.”
“Before sunset, then. For sure.”
“Gotta go.” She hung up and hurried out the door, now running late.
Coop was waiting out in front of the Jenny Lake Visitor Center. Even as rushed as she felt, she took a moment to notice how appealing he looked in his ranger uniform. No wonder there was a thing about men in uniforms. His face lit up with a smile when he saw her, and it made her feel all soft and mushy inside.
“Ready? Let’s go.” He took her backpack from her and started toward his truck. At one point, he stopped in the parking lot. “Is that the kind of car you saw last night at Willow Flats?” He pointed to a ranger’s jeep.
“I think so. I’m pretty sure. I have to admit that I didn’t pay much attention to it.”
He opened up the door to the truck for Kate, and it occurred to her that Oliver rarely displayed that kind of chivalry. It wasn’t his fault, of course. He hadn’t grown up with a father who would’ve modeled how to treat a woman.
She found herself constantly comparing the two men, although she knew that was silly. After all, she’d just met Coop. Yet he always seemed to outshine Oliver.
“So,” Kate said, “when you’re not here as a seasonal ranger, you’re a schoolteacher.”
“I am.”
“Do you like being a teacher?”
“Yeah, I really do. My folks are both teachers, so it’s kind of a family business. Having summers off was the best part—we spent those months on adventures. Modest ones, mostly camping, but as a kid, it was heaven. Mom and Dad and my brother and me, all jammed into a tent. All summer long.” He grinned. “As I recall, Mom might have preferred a tent to herself.” He chuckled. “What I really like about my summers is that it gives me a chance to recharge my batteries, so when I get back to the classroom in the fall, I’m ready for another school year. I like learning. I like seeing the light go on in kids’ minds.”
“School was so hard for me,” Kate said. “I grew up in a family that values higher education in a big, big way. My mom and dad are professors.”
“Both?” He let out a short whistle. “Professors?”
“Yep. My brother’s on the same track. But I could barely get through high school. Dyslexia.”
“Did you get help for it?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t diagnosed until I was older.”
The truck hit a bump in the road, jolting them both. “Your mind works differently from other people. It’s not a bad thing.”
“Well, it feels pretty bad when you’re failing subjects.”
“Yeah, I get that. I’ve had a couple of students who’ve had dyslexia. I like to show them that the world needs different thinkers. Thomas Edison had dyslexia. ADHD too. Albert Einstein, Leonardo da Vinci. I don’t consider dyslexia to be a disability. The tricky part is how to help kids make it an asset.” He glanced at her. “Like you’re doing.”
“Me? How am I making it an asset?”
“Dyslexia might be the very reason why you have such a good eye for photographs.”
“You think I have a good eye?”
He cracked the window a little, almost as if releasing a little ... intimacy ... that was building between them. “Oh yeah. Not just a good eye, but I’m still amazed you had the presence of mind to stand your ground with Bruno and get those shots ... They were incredible.”
She looked at him. “Thank you. That means a lot.” More than she could express. “I have a hunch you’re a pretty popular teacher.”
He shrugged, but he seemed pleased. “So-so. But I do like the balance of teaching and being a ranger. It’s a nice life.” He glanced at her. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Shoot.”
“How does this boyfriend of yours make you feel about your dyslexia?”
Kate cringed. “Actually, I haven’t told him.”
“Whoa. Isn’t that significant?”
“That I haven’t wanted to tell him? Yes. Yes, I suppose it is.” There was just something about Oliver that made her feel as if she had to hide that part of her. So many parts of her. Like her deep faith that she found hard to express. They attended church together on Sundays, yet Oliver never had much to say about the sermon. Nothing positive, anyway. Mostly, he offered critiques. It occurred to her recently that she’d never heard him pray aloud. Grace before a meal was offered in a moment of silence.
They drove in comfortable quiet for a while, the hum of the engine filling the space between them. Finally, Kate spoke up again. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Shoot.”
“Do you think Emma is a good principal? Is she good at her job?”
Coop pondered her question for a moment. “She’s dedicated, compassionate, and she knows how to connect with parents and kids. Like, she stands at the gate every morning and shakes hands with every single kid as they arrive for the day. Yeah, she’s a very good principal.” He went quiet for a long while after that, and she thought it best not to ask anything more about Emma for now.
Kate studied him for a moment, pondering how conversation came so easily with Coop. She’d shared more about herself in this one conversation with him than she had in six months of dating Oliver.
Maisie pedaled her bike as fast as her legs could manage, heading up the scenic path that led to Jenny Lake Lodge. As she sailed past the lodge toward the stable, her eyes lit up at the sight of the string of horses, lined up and ready for the afternoon trail ride. She adored horses.
Dropping her bike by the paddock, Maisie eagerly approached the horses. She reached out to pat the long neck of a horse, relishing in the softness of its coat. Another horse nudged closer, seeking attention. Maisie laughed. “Okay, okay, I can pet you both!”
“Is that the bike you’re riding? A BMX?”
Maisie spun around to see Frankie pushing a wheelbarrow filled with straw and manure. “Frankie! What are you doing here?”
He raised an eyebrow at her bike. “Why are you riding a little kid’s bike?”
“I know,” she said, her voice heavy with disappointment. “Pops’s bike has a flat tire. This was my only transportation option.”
Frankie shook his head with a smirk. “A BMX. Kid, how many times do I have to tell you to keep your cool on?”
“I’m not a kid,” Maisie said, frowning. “So what are you doing here, anyway?”
“Menial labor without pay,” Frankie grumbled, setting down the wheelbarrow. “The handler’s short-staffed, so Coop volunteered me.”
“I was hoping there’d be space for me on today’s trail ride,” Maisie said wistfully, glancing at the saddled horses.
“Yeah, there’s plenty of space,” Frankie replied. “The ride starts in about half an hour. See that lady over by the saddled horses? She’ll have you sign a lengthy release form so you can’t sue anybody if you fall off the horse and break your neck.” He paused, squinting at her. “Wait a minute. Have you ever ridden a horse?”
Maisie looked down at her sneakers. If she answered this truthfully, she may not be able to go on a trail ride. She lifted her head. “Fun fact. The horses used for trail rides are bred and trained specifically for being, well, trail horses. They undergo specialized training to ensure they are well-behaved, responsive to commands, and suitable for riders of various skill levels.” She’d read that very thing in a brochure at the visitor center.
Frankie chuckled. “Well, these trail horses are ready for retirement at Shady Acres. Tell that lady that the trail boss said you’re fit for our ride.”
“Wait.” Her heart started to pound. “Are you going to be on this trail ride too?”
“Yep. I’ll bring up the rear. I just need to finish cleaning a few more stalls first.”
Maisie stared at him. “Is there nothing you can’t do?” Frankie was UH-mazing.
He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. “I can’t seem to stop myself from getting kicked out of boarding schools.” He picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow and went off to the compost pile to dump it.
Maisie went over to speak to the woman and signed the papers for the trail ride. Then she went looking for Frankie and found him in a horse stall, mucking it out. “So why do you keep getting kicked out of boarding school?”
Frankie looked up from his task, a mixture of surprise and annoyance on his face. “Because it makes my dad mad.” He heaved his pitchfork’s load into the wheelbarrow. “Then he gets back at me by forcing me into indentured servanthood each summer.” He straightened his back to stretch. “It’s a game we play.”
“Where does your dad live?”
“Washington DC.”
“What about your mom?”
A shadow crossed his face. “She’s dead.”
She felt stupid for being so nosy. “I’m sorry.”
“You wouldn’t know.” Frankie waved off her concern and resumed work.
“Well, I’ve never even met my dad. He vanished when my mom told him she was pregnant.”
Frankie took a break from shoveling. “Where is your mom?”
“Right now?” Maisie leaned against the stall door. “She’s at some kind of spiritual retreat.”
“So that’s why you’re staying with your grandfather?”
“Yep. Mom got fired from her art teaching job cuz she only let the students use black and gray and brown colors.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Well, it was a watercolor class for spring flowers. Supposed to be cheerful.” She sighed. “Anyway, then we had to move out of the apartment cuz Mom couldn’t pay the rent. This nice lady named Rebecca Woodbine let us live in her basement and then treated Mom to this retreat. Rebecca thinks Mom’ll find herself there.”
Frankie smirked. “Like, your mom’s gone missing?”
“Not exactly, but kind of. Like, some of her has gone missing. At least, that’s what Rebecca told Mom. Something about how she needed to dig deep to find herself.” Maisie had to piece it all together from bits of conversation she’d overheard. “Rebecca told Mom that this retreat would be life-changing .” From the latest texts she’d sent, it didn’t sound like that was happening. “My mom doesn’t like to be told what to do.” Or how to think.
Frankie placed the pitchfork against the stall wall. “Your mom should meet my dad. They sound a lot alike.” He pushed the barrow past her and out to the compost pile.
Maisie’s heart soared at that remark. It seemed like a clear signal that Frankie had the same longing to stay close to her as she did for him.
Unless ... he was joking. Was he?
Wade felt a growing sense of foreboding after the turncoat missed shooting the bear. Feldmann explained that the problem was a person taking pictures in the flats, and the turncoat couldn’t risk shooting the person. Instead, she fired a warning shot to scare the bear off. After all, Feldmann reminded him, the turncoat was a park ranger.
Wade felt his ears prick, like a dog’s. Something felt off to him.
Taking an arrow from the quiver, Wade fixed his eyes on the butt. Thanks to the many restricted areas of the park—and, on this note, he had to hand it to Feldmann because the turncoat had practically shut the park down—he had found several remote fields for target practice. He was able to concentrate in complete and total solitude. And practice he did. Hours upon hours. Waiting for word from Feldmann’s insider source that the bear had emerged from its den.
The new bow felt foreign in his hands, lacking the familiar weight and balance of Whisper. Working with an economy of motion, Wade pulled back the string into a full draw. With a swift release, the arrow soared through the air, hitting the target with slightly less precision than he was accustomed to. He frowned, dissatisfied with the result.
With each arrow he loosed, he fought a growing frustration as he worked to adjust to the unfamiliar weapon. The arrows hit the target, but without the pinpoint accuracy he had come to expect with Whisper.
After a few more attempts, Wade sighed and lowered the bow. Trying to take down a four-hundred-pound bear with a bow and arrow was a bold and risky move. Practice would eventually improve his proficiency with this new bow, but it would never replace the confidence he had with Whisper.
Could he be losing his edge?
He walked across the field to retrieve his arrows from the butt. Suddenly, he stopped, turned slowly in a circle, listened for ... for what? He wasn’t sure. He just knew he felt nervous, uneasy. He didn’t like the feeling. Not at all.