Mysteries in Our National Parks: Wolf Stalker: A Mystery in Yellowstone National Park. Gloria Skurzynski

      WOLF STALKER

      A MYSTERY IN YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK

      GLORIA SKURZYNSKI AND ALANE FERGUSON

      For Barbara Lalicki

      Together again, the three of us

      Copyright © 1997 Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson

       Cover illustration copyright © 2007 Jeffery Mangiat

      All rights reserved.

       Reproduction of the whole or any part of the contents is prohibited without written permission from the National Geographic Society, 1145 17th Street N.W., Washington, D.C. 20036.

      This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to living persons or events other than descriptions of natural phenomena is purely coincidental.

      Map by Matthew Frey—Wood Ronsaville Harlin, Inc.

      Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

       Skurzynski, Gloria

       Wolf stalker / Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson p. cm.—(A national parks mystery; #1)

       Summary: Twelve-year-old Jack, his younger sister, and the family’s teenage foster child Troy go to Yellowstone National Park, where Jack’s mother, a wildlife veterinarian, is investigating the report that wolves reintroduced to the park have killed a dog there.

      ISBN: 978-1-4263-0964-9

      [1. Wolves—Fiction. 2. Wildlife reintroduction—Fiction. 3. Wildlife conservation—Fiction. 4. Yellowstone National Park—Fiction. 5. National parks and reserves—Fiction. 6. Mystery and detective stories.]I. Ferguson, Alane. II. Title. III. Series.

       PZ7.S6287Wo 1997 97-11125

      [Fic]—DC21

      Version: 2017-07-05

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      The authors are grateful for the valuable

       information provided so generously by

       Mike Phillips, Wolf Restoration Program Leader,

       Yellowstone National Park;

       Marsha Karle, Chief of Public Affairs,

       Yellowstone National Park;

       Elden Naranjo, Tribal Historian for

       the Southern Ute Tribe;

       Bruce L. Smith, Wildlife Biologist,

       National Elk Refuge, Jackson, Wyoming;

       and Larry F. Jones, ballistics expert.

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      AFTERWORD

       ABOUT THE AUTHORS

      A soulful howl rose, fell, and then faded. It told the man he was zeroing in on his prey. As he fingered the barrel of his rifle, his eyes searched the thick forest growth for signs of his enemy. There! A flash of black fur followed by a streak of silver—instantly he raised his rifle, but before he could take aim, the wolves disappeared into the brush. Once again, they had escaped his bullet.

      “Don’t care how long it takes,” he murmured. “You’re mine.” Slinging his rifle across his shoulder, the man impatiently pushed at branches hanging in his line of sight. Morning light dappled Yellowstone National Park, turning the autumn grass into pale gold. Intent on his quest, the man didn’t notice.

      He was the stalker; the wolves, his prey….

      CHAPTER ONE

      “Can’t you put some quarters in the slot or something to make it shoot off?” Troy asked. “We’ve been waiting forever.”

      Jack looked up sharply.

      He didn’t know Troy well enough to tell if he was joking. Ashley, though, burst out laughing.

      “Mom!” she yelled. “Troy said we should put money in a slot to make Old Faithful start. Like it was a video game or something. Isn’t that funny?”

      Olivia Landon smiled, but Jack could tell his mother was distracted. She stared intently at a cellular phone she was holding. “Mmm,” she murmured, which meant she hadn’t really noticed what anyone was saying.

      Ashley tried again. “Mom—”

      Suddenly, their mother seemed to focus. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s just—every minute that slips by makes it harder for me to analyze the killing scene.” Turning the cell phone in her hand, she frowned and said, “I should have gotten the call an hour ago. I hope nothing’s gone wrong….”

      “So what are we supposed to do in the meantime—just stand here forever?” Troy growled.

      Jack felt his stomach clamp with anger. He wished he could dump Troy right into Old Faithful and watch him melt, but his father’s expression warned him to keep quiet.

      Steven Landon explained, “Until Mike’s call comes, we might as well stay here.” Mike was the head of Yellowstone’s Wolf Restoration Program. The Landons were supposed to meet him that afternoon, but they didn’t know where. “Meanwhile, we can watch Old Faithful erupt,” Steven added.

      “Watch what? Nothing’s happening,” Troy said.

      Olivia patted the bench, inviting Troy to sit beside her. But of course he wouldn’t. He kept standing there. “Don’t worry, Troy,” she began. “It will happen—”

      Fists jammed into the pockets of his cheap bomber jacket, Troy walked away.

      Olivia and Steven Landon exchanged glances. Their look meant that Troy Haverson had better be watched. They were responsible for him. He was their temporary foster child.

      “Will you go after him, Steven?” Olivia asked. “I want to dial Mike’s number again. I can’t figure out why I haven’t heard from him.”

      “No problem. I’ll get Troy.” Steven ambled after the scowling boy, and when he caught up to him, put his hand on Troy’s shoulder. “Old Faithful will start up any minute now,” he said. “It’s pretty spectacular—you’ll want to see the whole thing right from the beginning.”

      “Who says?” Troy muttered, but he let Steven lead him back toward the Landon family group.

      Luckily, right then Old Faithful did begin to rumble. Gurgling, splashing, it slid tentative, watery fingers aboveground. Then, as if to test the world of daylight, the first narrow column of water and steam rushed up, and a cheer rose from the hundreds of visitors ringed around the viewing area.

      After the watery column fell back, sudden bursts bubbled up one right after the other, making sounds like waves on a seashore. They rose, fell, and rose again to even greater heights. Puffs of vapor at the top of the column got caught by wind, while the heavier drops splashed back onto the ground. At the peak of the eruption, Old Faithful shot nearly 200 feet into the clear blue sky, looking as if it might touch a cloud, just as white, that floated overhead. Roaring, throbbing, the column of water and steam widened into a wall of mist that drifted like a curtain across a stage before it began