you’re doing a good job of it,” Steven said.
“Can’t you two share the newspaper?” their mother asked.
“Never mind, she can have it.” Jack tossed the paper at Ashley. “When are we going to stop for lunch, Dad?” he asked. “I’m starving.”
“Jack, we just got started on this leg of the trip,” Steven answered impatiently. “I don’t want to stop for a couple more hours.”
“You’re hungry because you didn’t finish your breakfast,” Olivia told him. “You wasted half your scrambled eggs.”
“I wasn’t in the mood for them.”
Sighing, Olivia said, “Fine. There’s trail mix and bottled water in the tailgate.”
As Jack unzipped a baggie and poured a handful of trail mix, he started to think again about the buffalo, how the tribes used every part of it—the meat for food, the hides for clothes and teepees and moccasins, the horns for bows. Nothing went to waste. Everything had a use, even the tail was used for chasing flies. The buffalo had become the very heartbeat of the tribes.
Jack thought about the buffalo runner, the brave boy who risked his life to help his people. Would he, Jack, have the same kind of raw courage? As the tires purred softly on the smooth highway, he put his head back and drifted once again into his daydream.
CHAPTER TWO
Never in his life had Jack seen quite the shade of shimmering blue that filled Lake McDonald. As he stood with his family on the shore, his eyes swept across crystal clear water the color of turquoise, reflecting sky and clouds. The lake stretched in a nine-mile oval ringed by a forest of thick pine that erupted into gigantic glaciated mountains. Everything around it was heavy with color, from the jewel-like wildflowers that bloomed against the shore to the lavender, blue, and yellow stones that pebbled the ground. The sweet smell of pine filled his every breath. It was perfect.
“Those woods are thick,” Ashley murmured.
“I know,” Olivia agreed. “It’s nothing short of paradise. Have you ever seen water so clear? It’s as if you were looking through glass.”
“Can we swim in it?” Jack asked. After the long drive from Ulm Pishkun, his skin itched with perspiration, and his feet felt hot in their shoes. Ashley, he knew, was just as warm. The Jeep’s air conditioner barely pushed out enough stale air to keep his parents cool in the front seat.
As they’d made their long descent through the mountains into Glacier National Park, Ashley’s nose had pressed flat against the window to search the tightly knit pines for any signs of bears. Out loud she’d wondered how bears could stand the heat with such thick coats of fur, when she could hardly take it in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
Looking around now, Jack saw that although people clustered along the edge of Lake McDonald, not one of them was actually in the water. Fishermen cast off from land or farther out from canoes, their fishing lines catching the sun like long strands of spider web.
“I don’t think you’d like to dive in there,” Steven told Jack, shaking his head. “This is glacial water. You’d have about three minutes before you turned as blue as the lake. Go ahead, put your hand in and check it out.”
Crouching low, Jack thrust his arm deep into water that felt as frigid as an ice chest. He pulled it out again quickly, shaking pearls of moisture off as he grinned and said, “So this is where frozen fish come from.”
“Very funny,” Steven chuckled. “Just make sure your sister doesn’t fall in before we get back. We won’t be long.”
“Daddy, I won’t fall in the lake. I’m not some little kid. Besides, where are you going?” Ashley asked. “If it’s to the gift shop, then I want to come, too. I want to get some bear bells.”
Olivia answered, “Honey, you don’t need any bear bells.”
“But—”
“We’re just going to the visitor center, right over there.” Olivia jerked her thumb at a low-slung log building a few hundred yards behind them. “I’m too grubby to go into park headquarters right now. I’ll be fresher in the morning.” Their mother was dressed in denim shorts and a shirt that had wilted during the long drive. Strands of curly, dark hair escaped from her ponytail, which she shoved under her baseball cap while she spoke. Olivia was so small and trim, Jack thought she could pass for a college student. His father, all bones and angles, towered over Olivia. Steven’s blond hair and blue eyes made a striking contrast to Olivia’s darker coloring. The two of them were so different and yet, Jack realized, the same somehow. Ever since he could remember, it seemed as though his parents worked in tandem. They were a comfortable couple.
“But Mom, listen to me.” Ashley’s voice was rising now. “If we’re going to camp way out in the woods, then we should wear bear bells.”
“Don’t worry about the bells, Ashley. They’re not loud enough for the bears to hear.”
“What are bear bells?” Jack broke in.
“Jingle bells that you strap onto your wrists or ankles,” his mother answered. “They’re supposed to warn a bear that you’re coming through, but it’s better to use your own voice and just call out every once in a while. Remember what I told you, bears won’t bother us if we don’t bother them.”
Olivia arched her back, stretching after the long hours of driving. “Anyway, we’ve got to grab a map before the center closes so we can nail down exactly where Quartz Creek is. Your father wants to photograph the unspoiled beauty of Glacier, which means,” she said, throwing a glance at Steven, “we have a long, bumpy ride ahead of us, through backwoods country.”
“Hey, at least I’m willing to ask for directions.” Steven grinned at her, then added, “How many guys do that?”
“Hardly any, which means you’re this close”—she squeezed her thumb and pointer finger together—“to being perfect.”
“Wow, look at that—I almost made it,” Steven laughed. “OK, kids, we’ll meet you back here at a quarter to. Don’t wander off. We’re going to have to really push to set up camp before dark, and I don’t want to have to go looking for either one of you.”
“Gotcha, Dad.”
After they left, Ashley muttered to herself, “The book says bear bells work.” While she perched on a tree stump close to shore, looking gloomy, Jack chose a smooth, plum-colored stone and skimmed it against the lake’s surface. The rock skipped five times, not bad for a first try.
A flatter, topaz-yellow stone grazed the lake, and he let out a holler. “Hey, Ashley, did you see that? Nine skips—that’s a record for me. Come on and try. I’m telling you, the rocks here are perfect.”
“No thanks,” Ashley answered. With her hand shading her eyes, she peered intently at the west side of the lake. Jack stopped skimming stones long enough to ask, “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing.”
The way she said it, Jack could tell it was not nothing. She was chewing on something in her mind. During the last hour of their drive to Glacier, every
