“Look who I found!” Kevin boasted.
Jeff looked up and swiped the glasses from his nose.
“Holy mackerel!” he exclaimed, almost knocking over the chair as he skirted the desk and gave Graham a big hug. He invited Graham to sit down and tell his story. The marina boss listened intently with his head cradled in his hands and his elbows resting on his desk.
Jeff whistled when Graham had finished his tale. “You are one lucky son of a bitch,” he opined. “Most folks round here figured you were mauled by a grizzly in the backcountry and left to die. No other explanation made sense. Some guys thought maybe you’d run off with some chick, but I never believed that for a second. But, kidnapped? That’s serious shit!”
“Yeah, it was scary at times.”
“The park authorities are going to need to hear your story. After all, there are a couple of crazies out there. Let me make a few phone calls.”
“Hey, I’m going to say hello to my friends while you’re doing that, okay?”
“Sure, sure,” he said, as he waved him out the door and picked up the phone’s handset.
Graham and Kevin visited with the other marina employees, getting the same astonished expressions when they discovered the former was alive. He gave only a brief explanation of having been abducted and promised they would learn more after he gave his official statement to the park authorities.
Jeff entered the marina ticket office, where everyone was gathered around Graham.
“I’ve spoken with the right people,” he said. “Let’s go over to my office, and I’ll tell you the plan.”
Graham followed his supervisor and closed the office door behind him.
“Tomorrow, someone will drive you to Mammoth, where you will meet with the park superintendent. His name is Henry Driscoll. Mr. Driscoll will interview you and take your official statement. He will decide if or how to involve law enforcement.”
“Okay. Thank you,” Graham replied. “Am I free to go home afterward?”
“As far as I’m concerned, you are. Your contract with us expired at the end of August. See Alice in the accounting office for your final paycheck.”
“I’d like to get home as soon as possible. I previously bought a round-trip Greyhound ticket for my trip. But it will take almost three days to get to Pennsylvania by bus, and I can’t afford a plane ticket. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Hmmm,” Jeff said thoughtfully while rubbing his chin. Suddenly his face brightened.
“You know what? Trevor is heading back east day after tomorrow. Do you remember him? He’s one of the fishing guides who works with Kevin. He’s attending law school at Syracuse. Maybe you could hitch a ride with him. You guys could share the driving and split the cost of gas. Why don’t you check with him?”
“Thanks! That’s a great idea!”
After collecting his paycheck, Kevin drove Graham back to their room. His roommate promised to ask Trevor about giving Graham a ride back east.
“I’ve gotta go back to the marina. Will you be okay?”
“Sure. Thanks for everything, Kevin. The shuttle van is going to take me to Mammoth tomorrow morning. I’m going to talk with the park superintendent.”
After Kevin left, Graham decided to take an inventory of his backpack. He pulled everything out and laid the articles on his bed. As expected, the Eveready flashlight and Zippo lighter were missing. There were several new keepsakes from his journey through time, including a half-dozen pieces of obsidian. He smiled as he fondled the braided sweetgrass necklace given him by Makawee. He brought it to his nose and detected a faint vanilla scent that triggered pleasant memories of his lover.
Graham pulled his filthy jeans from the floor where he had removed them earlier and jammed his hand into the left front pocket. He extracted two United States Notes with a value of thirty dollars—his payment for working on the Hayden Survey. Reaching into the right pocket, he removed five grizzly-bear claws and three black-and-yellow chevron beads.
He tucked the bear claws and the nineteenth-century money inside his zippered toiletries bag for safekeeping. He gazed at the three precious beads from Makawee’s necklace in his palm, recalling the moment she had placed them there. Untying his eagle–bear claw necklace, he threaded the beads onto the elk-hide cord and slid them next to the BSA eagle pendant. He knotted the necklace and placed it around his neck. Not only would these beads be secure, but they would also be a constant reminder of their previous owner.
* * *
The creaky box springs and sagging mattress felt luxurious compared with sleeping on the ground for nearly five weeks. Graham lay on his back and stared at hundreds of curling gray paint flakes tenuously holding onto the tongue-and-groove ceiling.
The time traveler reminisced about his final moments with Makawee. He wondered if she had returned to the Dragon’s Mouth spring and discovered his hat. He wondered if she wept when she confirmed he had been taken by the spirits. He wondered if the young Crow woman would be able to live a happy life and start a family as she hoped. Graham sadly realized he would never know the answers to these questions.
He blinked several times and forced himself to shift his attention to the present day. Tomorrow, he would meet with the park superintendent and relate his tale. He was about to claim he had been a kidnapping victim and needed to have a plausible story that held up under scrutiny. The mythical felons would be loosely modeled after Makawee and Rides Alone. But he schemed to portray his alleged abductors as Caucasian. He didn’t want authorities to falsely accuse any residents of an Indian reservation.
He had practiced his narrative with Kevin and Jeff, and they had believed his account. But it would be more challenging to fool someone in law enforcement. Graham hoped the park superintendent would be the only authority at the meeting. He rehearsed his fabricated story one last time in his mind, making certain there were no obvious gaps or inconsistencies in his yarn.
When sleep came, he fantasized about Makawee. The beautiful Crow woman was standing in the moonlight wearing his cowboy hat. She regarded him with dark-brown almond eyes, her endearing gaze tugging at his heart. Touching her hand to the brim of the hat, she turned and walked toward the Dragon’s Mouth, where she vanished in a cloud of billowing vapors.
Chapter 31
September 3, 1971
The Yellowstone Park Company van arrived in Mammoth Hot Springs shortly before ten o’clock. It turned from Grand Loop Road onto Stable Street, passed a chapel, and stopped in front of a long three-story building. The driver nodded toward the venerable sandstone structure and instructed Graham to ask someone inside to direct him to the office of the park superintendent.
Graham thanked the driver, who told him to catch the next shuttle back to the lake in front of the Visitor Center at two o’clock. As the van sped away, Graham walked over to an information exhibit on the lawn. It indicated the sixty-three-year-old building had been part of a military garrison known as Fort Yellowstone. The US Army had protected the park from the latter part of the nineteenth century until 1916, when the National Park Service was established. The current administration office building was originally a barracks that housed two hundred cavalry troops.
The exhibit featured an enlarged black-and-white photograph of a cavalry company posing in front of the barracks in 1915. The image of the fresh-faced soldiers in their crisp uniforms triggered a flashback of Lt. Doane, the arrogant cavalry officer who had led the murderous raid on innocent Piegans forty-five years before the photograph was taken. Graham lamented how a narcissistic man with authority could have a pernicious impact on the lives of so many people. While Doane’s abhorrent actions on the Marias River were not the norm for most officers, there was little doubt the military had played a critical role in the early years of settling and developing the Yellowstone region.
Graham walked to the entrance of the old barracks near one end of the portico. He was greeted by a receptionist, who escorted him to a spacious corner office. A nameplate above
the door indicated the occupant was Henry Driscoll.
“Mr. Driscoll, Graham Davidson is here to see you,” she said, poking her head into the doorway.
“Yes. I’ve been expecting him.”
Graham entered the room and shook hands with the superintendent as he stood from behind a large wooden desk. Driscoll wore the standard dress uniform of the National Park Service: a gray long-sleeved shirt with a tie that matched his forest-green trousers. He appeared to be in his late fifties and had short salt-and-pepper hair.
“Would you like some water or a cup of coffee?”
“Black coffee would be great.”
“Please have a seat,” Driscoll offered, extending his arm toward a wooden chair in front of his desk. He walked over to a small table next to a bookcase and poured two cups of java.
The superintendent handed the coffee to Graham. He retrieved a spiral-bound notebook from his desk and took a seat in an adjacent chair, turning it slightly to face his guest. Graham interpreted this as a positive sign. Perhaps the interview would have a more informal tone.
“So, Mr. Davidson, I understand you showed up yesterday after having been missing for over a month. Everyone who was involved in your search was glad to hear you are okay. I was briefed on your story, but I wanted to find out more details about what happened. I’m going to take some notes and will decide after our conversation how to involve law-enforcement authorities. Is that okay?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Driscoll. And please call me Graham.”
“Okay, Graham,” he said while putting on his reading glasses and opening the notebook. “I see from your employment file you are a forestry student at Penn State, and you were hired by the local concessioner as a scenic-cruise operator on Yellowstone Lake. Is that correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you enjoy your job?”
“Tremendously.”
“Well, please tell me about the evening of July 8, when you went missing near the Mud Volcano.”
Graham truthfully recounted Kevin’s giving him a ride to the thermal spring in the early evening. He explained Kevin left immediately after dropping him off.
“And your roommate claims that is the last time he saw you.”
“That’s true.”
“What happened next?”
Okay, Graham told himself. Stay calm and slowly weave your tale. Don’t offer any more information than necessary. Wait for Driscoll to ask questions.
“I was standing by the Dragon’s Mouth spring. The sun was setting, and I needed a ride to Canyon. So, I walked down to the main road and pulled out my Park Employee sign.”
“What sign?”
“Well, sir, I don’t have a car, and I was advised to hold up a sign indicating I worked in the park. Cars are more likely to stop and give you a ride if they know you are an employee. And you pay for your ride by providing commentary. For the people who give you a ride, it’s like having a personal tour guide.”
Driscoll frowned as he looked up from the notebook. “Yes, I understand quite a few young people use this method to get around. Park rules allow people to solicit a ride anywhere except near an entrance station. Frankly, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Most park visitors are friendly. But not everyone has good intentions.”
Graham was encouraged by Driscoll’s reaction. It would play nicely into the next part of his story.
“Yes. I agree. That’s what happened to me.”
“Go on,” Driscoll prompted.
“A man and a woman offered me a ride. I gladly accepted. It was almost dark, but it was a clear night with a full moon.”
He wasn’t sure why he mentioned the moon’s phase. While this astronomical detail was critically important for his vision quest, it was an unnecessary observation for his fabricated story.
“What did these people look like? Can you describe them?”
Graham described two people of European descent with long, braided hair, contemporary clothing, and beaded necklaces.
“What vehicle were they driving?”
“A beige Mustang. It had plenty of horsepower!”
Graham smiled inwardly at his clever response.
“Did you see a license plate?”
“I think they were from Big Sky Country—Montana,” he said evasively.
“So, when did you realize you were in trouble?”
“Almost immediately. They traveled south toward the lake instead of north toward the canyon. When I asked where we were going, they told me I was just the person they were looking for. They demanded I guide them around the park into unexplored areas and the backcountry. They had stocked supplies and were prepared to stay a long time in the wilderness.”
“Did you try to escape or negotiate with them?”
“Of course. I wanted to return home. I knew people would be worrying about me. They promised to let me go eventually. But the man had a rifle and a knife. It was clear he knew how to use them. I never tried to resist.”
“Did he ever use the rifle?”
“Yes, for hunting,” Graham said, before taking a sip of coffee.
Driscoll scribbled something in his notebook. Graham was certain it was something about a violation of park rules on killing any animal within the park boundaries.
“Did you ever feel threatened?”
Graham hesitated, then answered directly.
“Their views and ideas were unusual. But I never felt like I was in danger.”
Driscoll paused writing and reviewed his notes, putting the top of the BIC pen in his mouth while he pondered the story.
“You spent nearly two months with this pair. Where did you go?”
“All over the park. We visited the main geyser basins but spent most of our time in undeveloped or remote areas.”
This was true—in 1871.
“How is it possible you were never seen? We had many people searching for you in a wide radius north of the lake.”
“Well, after they picked me up, we never came back to the Mud Volcano area until they released me yesterday. There were very few people where we traveled. We camped in secluded areas and lived off the land.”
“Did they mention their names? What did they call one another?”
Graham was prepared for this question.
“The man’s name was Slone. He called the woman Earth Maiden.”
He could see a thought forming in Driscoll’s mind and hoped it matched Graham’s personality sketch of his mythical kidnappers.
The park superintendent put down his notebook and picked up his coffee cup. He leaned toward Graham with his elbows on his knees and asked, “Did you see them doing any drugs?”
“No hard drugs. But they smoked grass.”
Driscoll nodded and flipped back to review his notes.
“I’m getting a picture of these characters. They have long, braided hair and wear beaded necklaces. The woman calls herself Earth Maiden. Based on your description, it seems likely the man is a Vietnam vet, since he has experience using firearms. They smoke marijuana. I believe your kidnappers are hippies. We’re seeing more of them camping in the national parks. Do you think that’s who these people are?”
Graham could hear the disdain in the superintendent’s voice when he referenced them as hippies.
“Could be,” Graham said with a shrug. “They obviously struggle to fit in our society. As I told you earlier, I was never threatened. They released me unharmed. I know this may sound crazy, but I don’t believe they are dangerous people.”
“Well, you may not think they are dangerous, but they kept you against your will for many weeks. And they killed park animals. These people need to be found and arrested.”
“Yes, sir,” Graham agreed. “But I don’t want to press any charges when you find them.”
Driscoll looked incredulously at the young man sitting across from him.
“That’s your decision. But I’m going to contact the local FBI office and file my report with them. Strange as it may seem
, park officials currently don’t have explicit authority to enforce regulations or conduct investigations into federal crimes such as kidnapping. We’re lobbying hard for Congress to change this, but right now our hands are tied.”
“May I leave now? I need to get back to Pennsylvania. Classes start in a few days.”
“You are free to go. Is the contact information on your employment application the best way to reach you if the FBI wants to call you with further questions?”
“It is.”
Driscoll stood and shook Graham’s hand.
“I’m glad you made it back safely, son. And I hope this experience taught you a lesson about the dangers of hitchhiking.”
“No doubt. Thank you, sir.”
Graham inhaled deeply and expelled the air from his lungs when he opened the door of the administration building and stepped onto the portico. A huge burden had been lifted by explaining his sudden disappearance to Driscoll. He sensed the superintendent accepted his tale as credible. Now he could focus on getting back to Penn State before classes began.
* * *
The silver metallic Datsun 240Z was cruising on Interstate 80 at ninety mph when a large sign indicated they were entering Nebraska. The last vestiges of a brilliant red-and-orange sunset were visible in the side-view mirror. Switching his focus to the instrument panel, Graham noticed the gas gauge read less than a quarter tank. He decided to stop at the next truck stop to get fuel and switch drivers. He glanced over at Trevor, who was slumped against the door with his arms crossed over his chest and a cowboy hat covering his eyes.
Trevor had enthusiastically welcomed Graham to share the ride back east. It would cut his fuel costs in half. More importantly, they could drive continuously. One person could sleep while the other drove. By stopping only for restroom breaks and gas, they expected to make the trip from Yellowstone to State College in less than thirty-six hours.
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