“OK,” Olivia went on, “follow me here. The fires clear out space, meadows spring up in that space, and the grasses bring the little animals and a place for the huckleberries, which, in turn, bring the bears. Do you see how it’s all connected?”
“The circle of life,” Jack chimed in.
“Exactly,” Olivia nodded. “The circle of life, which we shouldn’t mess with. When the parks used to put out fires, the forests got heavy with dead trees, and the meadows were getting all crowded out. It took a while for folks to figure it out, so now when there’s a fire, it’s allowed to burn. And pretty soon Mother Nature will put it all back together again.”
“Hey—do you think the missing baby grizzlies might have been killed in the fire that was here?” Jack asked, thinking that nothing much could survive the devastation of a searing forest fire. “Maybe that’s what happened to them.”
“No, believe it or not, forest fires aren’t anything like what you’ve seen in the movie Bambi, where all the animals are running for dear life. Most of the animals leave ahead of the flames, and a few burrow underground and aren’t even scorched, unless it’s a really hot burn. That’s not why the baby grizz are disappearing.”
A shadow crossed Olivia’s face, and Jack noticed smudges underneath her eyes. She was worried about the missing cubs, he knew. She’d spent countless hours researching the information the park had given her. All the way to Glacier she’d reviewed the material, studying bear-sighting records and weather patterns and bear-mortality numbers and plant-growth statistics, especially about the abundance of huckleberries, because they are the bears’ favorite food. Doggedly, she’d searched for a clue the park officials might have overlooked. So far, she’d found nothing.
Tiny lines gathered in Olivia’s forehead as she crinkled her brow. “You know, I can’t help thinking about little Marco, and what’s become of him. Jane’s right: The grizzly are a threatened species here in the lower 48, and we can’t spare even one of them. I just wish I knew what I was looking for.”
“You’ll fix it,” Jack assured her.
“I hope so. Somebody’s got to, or the number of grizzlies in this park will be seriously impacted in a few generations, and that would be a terrible loss to everyone.”
“Except to the people who get eaten,” Ashley muttered, under her breath. “Nobody cares about what happens to them.”
“What did you say, Ashley?” their mother asked.
Ashley slumped in her seat. “Nothing.”
“She said, ‘Nobody cares about the people who get eaten,’” Jack offered, miffed that his sister sounded as though she didn’t worry about the baby bears.
“Jack!” Ashley cried, punching his thigh at the same time their mom called out, “Ashley!”
“Hey!” Jack told his sister, “Knock it off!”
“Well, you shouldn’t have told Mom.”
“Then you shouldn’t have said it!”
“Ashley,” their mother began, but Ashley said hotly, “People do get eaten by grizzlies, so maybe it’s better if the grizzlies go live someplace else! Why doesn’t anybody care about the poor visitor who turns into bear food?”
“Sweetheart, we can’t push the grizzlies out of Glacier just because people want to hike here—the bears need someplace to live, too. You know, this isn’t like you. You’ve always loved every kind of animal.” After a pause, their mother asked gently, “What is it, Ashley?”
When Ashley didn’t answer, Jack stared at the floor of their car. His sneaker had a smudge of mud on one side that he rubbed against the floor mat. It was obvious Ashley was really bothered by that stupid grizzly book, but he’d told his sister he’d keep quiet about it, and that was almost the same as a promise. The best he could hope was that she’d spit it out and get the whole thing over with.
Outside, the living forest had returned, gray-green in the half-light, branches melting into other branches to create an awning of pine. Their Jeep pitched along the road, the front end bucking up first, and then the back end, like a crazed bull in a rodeo; then left to right, swinging wildly like a boat in rough water, at times scratching against the wild roses that flowered along the road’s edge in bright pink splashes against the green. Ashley sat, sullen, her arms crossed over her white T-shirt in a tight clamp. Two braids bounced against her shoulders as the Jeep bumped along; Jack noticed curly bits of hair had managed to escape from her part to create a fuzzy halo. Her mouth was pressed shut as if to keep any sound from escaping.
“Aren’t you going to talk to me?” Olivia asked.
Come on, just tell her, Jack pleaded in his mind. It’s not that big a deal. You’re only making it worse.
“She’s not saying a word, so now I know something’s wrong,” Steven teased. “Hey, Ashley, I saw that look. You just rolled your eyes right at the ceiling—I can see you in my rearview mirror. Help me out here—isn’t Jack the one who’s supposed to get temperamental? He’s the almost-teenager. Technically, there’re three years to go before you go moody on me.”
“I’m not moody—” Jack protested.
Ashley snorted, “Yeah, right,” at which Jack reminded them that it was Ashley they were talking about, not him, to which Ashley replied that he, Jack, was always bossing her around. At that, Jack blurted out, “That’s because you don’t listen and do what you’re supposed to. You went right on and read Night of the Grizzlies and got all freaky. Now you’re ruining the vacation for the rest of us ’cause you’ve turned into a bear psycho.”
His mother’s mouth made a small O as she thought a moment, then said, “Night of the Grizzlies—is that what this is about? No wonder you’re so spooked.” Olivia turned around in her seat so that she could look Ashley full in the face. She didn’t appear to be the least bit annoyed that Ashley had read something she wasn’t supposed to. Instead, an expression of concern filled Olivia’s face as she centered her chin over the back of the headrest. “Ashley, listen to me. The grizzlies that attacked those girls were fed by people all the time. That was the problem. They’d totally lost their fear of humans. You’ve got to remember that the tragedy happened a long time ago. Bears are managed very differently now.”
“How?” his sister asked softly. Her eyes, wide and dark, were fixed on her mother.
“Well, in just about every way. Trust me. The park would never let that kind of thing happen nowadays—a bear like the ones in that book would be taken out of Glacier so fast it’d make your head spin. Today’s Glacier grizzlies are truly wild, which means they steer clear of humans, just the way nature intended. Like I said, leave them alone, and they’ll leave you alone.”
Biting the edge of her lip, Ashley said, “OK.”
“Good. And I hope you’ll also understand that when I tell you not to do something, it’s for a reason. You’ve wasted a lot of energy over this. It could have ruined your stay in this beautiful park.”
“You’re right,” Ashley agreed, relieved she was being let off the hook. “Thanks, Mom.”
Olivia sat forward again and buckled her seat belt. They pitched and swayed the next four miles in silence, Ashley ever more queasy, Jack deep into his own thoughts. Suddenly, his father announced, “There’s the sign—Quartz Creek Campground. Hey, kids, try reading that out loud five times really fast.”
“Quartz Creek Campground,” Ashley began, “Quartz Cweek Cwampgwound, Courts Cweek Cramp—I can’t say it! Jack, you try!”
Jack’s tongue felt all turned around inside his mouth as he tackled the phrase, but he didn’t mind such silliness. He was glad the storm between him and his sister had blown over, that they