The Ghost of Schafer Meadows by Hodder Beth; Ore Florence; Zoellner Guy; Vekkos Maria

Author:Hodder, Beth; Ore, Florence; Zoellner, Guy; Vekkos, Maria
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Grizzly Ridge Publishing
Published: 2011-11-10T04:30:00+00:00

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When we rode into camp about 5 p.m., Dad called Rosie at Spotted Bear on the satellite phone and told her about the mess the crew found, the meat wrapper intended for Schafer, and our efforts to clean up the area.

“Rosie’s calling law enforcement on this one,” Dad said. “The wrapper that Oriole found pretty much confirms that whoever stole the food from Spotted Bear is probably somewhere in the wilderness near here. She stressed that we should all be very careful.” Dad turned to Celie. “I want you to call me on the radio every evening until it’s time for you and the crew to return to Schafer. I need to know that you’re all safe. If you even suspect anything is wrong, you’re to pack up and head back to Schafer. I don’t want any heroes.”

“No problem.”

Dad cooked a stir-fry dinner, letting everyone rest as a reward for their hard work. Oriole ate while I pitched our dome tent, staking it to the ground. I didn’t want it to blow away like we had happen once when we got caught in a sudden windstorm in New Mexico. Chasing a tent that’s rolling away is not only hard work but embarrassing.

Later we all sat around in our camp chairs and watched the horizon turn from light blue to dark blue to black. Stars twinkled above the outline of the mountains. I grew sleepy and called Oriole to bed. I had just started unzipping the tent door when we heard a long, low, mournful howl like a lost dog crying for its person.

“Wolves!” Cody said.

I’d never heard a wolf howl before. It was eerie, making me shiver as the hair crawled up the back of my neck. But in some ways it was also natural and welcome. We stopped what we were doing and stood up straight, as if we could hear better that way. Shortly, another more distant howl filled the night. What a thrill! As we listened for more, Oriole stood next to our tent, all four legs spread out. She lifted her head and returned her best imitation of a howl.

We howled, too—with laughter.

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