Defiant, Ashley glared at her brother, redness creeping into her cheeks. Little wisps of hair curled from her dark braids, tiny as threads, and in the light they seemed to spark in aggravation. “Jack, I’m 12 years old—almost!” she hissed. “Do you think Yonah would be telling me fairy tales like I was a little kid? We had a serious conversation. Just because I’m two years younger than you doesn’t mean a 16-year-old guy won’t talk to me about serious things.”
“I know what the bear was feeling, too,” Jack told her. “He was feeling hungry.”
“Shut up!” Ashley punched him in the arm.
Jack narrowed his eyes to study Yonah, who was tall and wiry, with biceps that bulged as he stood with his arms across his chest. Yonah seemed to be listening intently to the talk between the three adults while at the same time paying attention to what Steven was doing with his camera.
“Anyway, I’ll introduce you to him,” Ashley told Jack, making it sound like a big favor. “Hey, Yonah!” she called, waving her arm to catch his attention. “Can you come here a minute? My brother wants to meet you.”
“Not,” Jack muttered.
Yonah glanced from his dad to Olivia to Steven, shrugged, then sauntered to where Jack and Ashley were standing. Through holes in his blue jeans, his knees looked like flickering eyes as he walked, and his thick bangs hung to his eyebrows in a line so straight it might have been drawn with a ruler. “Yeah?” he asked.
“This is Jack,” Ashley said. “Jack, this is Yonah. I was telling Jack what you said about the bear, Yonah, but I thought you could say it better.”
“How do you spell Yonah?” Jack asked.
Yonah paused after each letter, as though Jack might not be swift enough to catch it. “‘Yonah’ means ‘bear.’”
“So that’s how you know what bears are thinking—you are one!” Jack started to laugh at his own little joke, but no one else was laughing. Yonah’s face stayed expressionless. His dark eyes skimmed over Jack’s blond hair, blue eyes, and pale skin with a look that told Jack he could never qualify as a Cherokee.
For some reason that silent stare flustered Jack. He found himself doing the thing he chided his sister for—he began to talk too fast. “My mom – she’s Olivia Landon, the wildlife veterinarian. She’s over there with your dad. She came here to confer about the elk, and then this bear thing happened, so now she’s helping them figure out the science of why the bears have gone haywire.” Jack rushed on, “We were driving from the airport this morning when we got the phone call about this attack, so we came straight over here. My mom nearly freaked out when she heard there’d been a total of three bear incidents in the past four weeks. This is a really serious situation. She said—”
“Two,” Yonah interrupted.
The tone stopped Jack cold. “Excuse me?”
“One of the attacks was in Gatlinburg, which is outside the park. Heather McDonald is only the second victim in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It’s important to keep the facts straight, especially if the media show up.”
Feeling quashed, Jack stood silent, unsure what Yonah meant. Overhead, a magpie cawed, and beyond that he could hear a car rumble past on Cades Cove Loop Road, a good distance beyond the thick stands of trees that ringed the wide green meadow around the Methodist church. He felt stupid standing there without answering, but he didn’t know what to say.
“Do you really think the news people will show up, Yonah?” Ashley asked.
“You can pretty much count on it. They like to ask questions that make things sound worse than they are.” Although Ashley had questioned him, Yonah directed his answer at Jack. “My dad—he’s the ranger that got called in to investigate the attacks—he told me if we’re not careful, the media people might try to shut down Great Smoky Mountains National Park. So watch what you say. And how you say it. Don’t go blabbing stupid stuff.”
Jack found his voice and said, “Yeah, well, my mom’s more worried about somebody getting killed. She thinks that’s the bigger problem.”
“Black bears don’t kill,” Yonah replied. “Not unless they are provoked.”
“You mean like Heather provoked that bear by standing here in the cemetery?” Jack shot back. If he hadn’t been sure before, he was sure of it now—he didn’t much like this guy. Ashley stood to one side, glancing from one to the other of them anxiously as she rocked from foot to foot, her dark eyes wide.
“These attacks are very unusual,” Yonah continued. “It’s just a string of bad luck.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Especially for the people who get chunks of their thighs ripped open. That’s really bad luck.”
“Jack!”
“What?” Jack cried, whirling on his sister.
“Look! Over there.”
For an instant he thought she was telling him to cool it with Yonah, but instead, Ashley pointed to the road, where two vans, one with something like a radar scope on the roof, were turning onto the blacktop lane that led to the church. Within minutes the vans arrived and parked, then their doors flew open.
Three people got out and rushed toward the spot where Olivia, Steven, and Blue Firekiller stood talking to a bald-headed man. A young blonde-haired woman in a red blazer, short skirt, and knee-high boots led the group. A man beside her balanced a television camera on his shoulder. Another man behind them carried a long pole with a microphone dangling from it.
“I’m Greta Gerard from Channel 12 News,” the woman announced, as the man with the pole thrust the microphone a half dozen inches from Blue’s face. “We understand there’s been another bear attack in the park, this one almost fatal. Can you give us some details?”
Yonah had begun to hurry back toward his father, and Jack and Ashley followed in time to hear Greta Gerard ask, “What is the park’s position on these attacks, Mr….?” Then, peering at Blue’s nametag, “I mean Ranger…uh…Firekiller? Is that right? Firekiller?”
Suddenly, Yonah spoke up, saying, “Yes, the name is Firekiller. It’s Cherokee.”
“Firekiller, OK, got it,” Greta murmured, barely glancing at Yonah. “So, Ranger Firekiller, what does the park have to say about these attacks? Will you be forced to close the park to the public?”
Hesitating, Blue Firekiller answered, “A black bear did approach a girl visiting here in Cades Cove, but we’re happy to report that she’s doing fine.”
“‘Approach?’ That’s an interesting choice of words,” Greta answered. “I heard it was an attack. Some of the tourists I have talked to have asked if the bears in this park might have rabies. Do you think that’s possible?
An outbreak of rabies could threaten the public’s health and safety.”
“No. In the other incidents the tests all came back negative,” Blue replied as he frowned at Greta. His right hand twitched as though he wanted to brush away the microphone that kept inching closer to his face.
“Well, then, Ranger Firekiller, do you have any explanation as to why the black bears are behaving in such an unusual manner?” Greta signaled the cameraman to focus on her, rather than on Blue. “Our viewers will want to know, just how far will Great Smoky Mountains National Park go to protect the visitors who come here? After all, this is the most visited national park in the entire United States National Park System.”
“We have no evidence whatsoever that the bears are infected with any disease,” Blue told her, holding himself stiffly. “But we’re taking the situation very seriously. We’ve asked Dr. Landon, an expert on animal