“If you want to see your friend again,” Robert yelled, “you better come back here!”
Then he saw the poacher swing his leg back and kick Matt. Thud!
“Don’t hurt me!” Matt yelped.
Clancy joined Robert. They stood over Matt, bears in a threatening posture, their necks arched downward.
Seth clenched his fists. What could he do?
If Quest was still alive, Seth thought, and not too far away, then he might have a plan. Maybe it could work. Yanking off his gloves and dropping them to the ground, he put two fingers to his mouth and whistled. He whistled again, more shrilly.
Seth squeezed his eyes tightly together. He whistled once more. This time, he heard Quest’s familiar whinny and snorting in response. Branches snapped as Quest galloped toward him, tossing his flaxen mane, his flaring nostrils a tender rose color. He skidded his muscular legs to a stop, nearly knocking Seth over.
“Remember barrel racing, boy?” Seth said as he jumped into the saddle. His hands were sweaty. His throat was dusty as dry leaves. He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and raced Quest back down the ravine and up the hill—straight toward the poachers. If he could get the men to move toward the mound that he’d nearly fallen through earlier …
Robert swung and sent Matt flying to the ground. He glanced up at Seth approaching. “I can’t believe this!” he hollered, and reached for a large stick.
But before Robert was able to grab it, Seth charged straight at him, then leaned back in his saddle as he pulled up on the reins. Quest reared up, his hooves flailing the air above the poacher’s head.
“Clancy!” Robert shouted, stumbling backward away from the horse. “Shoot it!”
“I left it …,” Clancy said, and started to run toward the slope in the direction of their four-wheeler, but Seth swerved his horse across the old man’s path.
“Stupid kid!” Clancy shouted, and started into a coughing fit. “Gonna get … yourself killed!” he wheezed as Seth herded the old man straight toward Robert and the mound of debris.
Neck-reining to the left and right, Seth made tight turns around the men. Quest’s pounding hooves churned the white snow to brown splotches. The men swore as they scrambled away from Quest’s quick-moving hooves.
Seth hoped his plan would work. Robert tried to grab at Seth’s left boot, but Seth quickly spun Quest to the left, knocking Robert to the ground.
“You’re gonna pay!” Robert shouted, scrambling toward Clancy.
Finally, making a tight circle around the edges of the decaying garbage mound, Seth forced the poachers to its center. With a sudden groan, the old timbers gave way, and the men disappeared into the shaft below.
Seth stared. He couldn’t believe it! They were gone. His plan had actually worked.
Moaning floated up from the shaft.
At least he hadn’t killed them.
“Hey!” Robert yelled, his voice less threatening. “C’mon, get us out of here! We won’t bother you.”
Seth’s legs trembled as he slid off Quest to the ground. He draped his rubbery arms around Quest’s neck. “Good boy,” he said over and over. “Good boy, Quest.”
Matt limped to Seth’s side, his face ashen.
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
“I didn’t expect you’d bring help so fast,” Matt said.
A chopping sound rumbled in the distance, then quickly filled the air. The boys looked up.
A helicopter sailed over the treetops, blowing the nearby branches with its whir of propellers.
“Let’s get out of here!” Seth yelled to Matt above the roar. “Quick, hop up. It’s probably some of their friends coming in for a shipment.”
Like an enormous wasp, the helicopter descended to the clearing below the hill. Speeding toward the copter on four-wheelers, two big men approached on the trail.
Just as Seth placed his foot in the stirrup, he heard a familiar voice.
“Seth!” his father shouted.
Seth yanked out his foot and turned. He dropped Quest’s reins and ran to meet his dad coming up over the crest of the hill. “Dad!”
“Your mom radioed,” he called. “She was worried about you. Now I find you here! You could get killed. Get home! Fast!”
“Wait,” Seth said, pointing to the black hole of the vertical shaft. “I’ll explain everything. There’s a couple of guys—”
“This isn’t the time for jokes,” Dad warned. “Now get home!”
“But Dad! Clancy and Robert are down there!”
His dad looked toward the hole, then back at the whirring helicopter.
“Dad, you’ve gotta believe me. Take a look!” Seth said, running back to the shaft. “They’re unarmed,” Seth said.
Dad’s mouth was drawn in a firm line. He walked toward the dark cavity and looked down.
Seth called down. “Gentlemen, meet my dad, the game warden!”
Cursing boiled up from the pit below.
“Huh,” Dad said, shaking his head. “I can’t quite believe it. Clancy, even the feds flew in to see you this time. Breaking the Lacey Act and going international caught their attention. Fellas, you’re under arrest.”
Then Dad stepped back from the hole. He yanked off his fake beard and mustache, put his hands on Seth’s shoulders, and looked hard at Seth. “I don’t know all you’ve been up to—I’m sure there’s some foolishness in it—but what’s important now is that you’re all right. I don’t know what I’d do if something had happened to you.”
Seth threw his arms around Dad’s chest, closed his eyes, and hugged him fiercely. “Dad, I’m—”
Suddenly he pulled away. “Oh! I almost forgot,” he blurted. “The moose calf!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
With his dad following, Seth ran through the birch trees, past the pile of bear carcasses, and on toward the creek bed, brambles cutting his numb hands and face. He stopped and listened for any sound of splashing or struggling. He heard only his own hard breathing.
At the edge of the water, he found the moose calf, motionless. Its arched brown muzzle rested on the ridge of ice; its close-set eyes were closed.
“No!” Seth said, shaking his head. “No! Fm too late!” He suddenly felt tired and heavy. He dropped to the edge of the creek bed and stared at the calf. “I was going to help you,” he whispered.
Seth’s dad came up from behind. “Poor animal,” he said. “What a shame.”
But as Seth looked more closely, the calf’s soft nostrils flared, almost imperceptibly. Seth felt an ember of hope burst into a brilliant flare. “Dad, look!” he shouted. “It’s still alive!”
With one end of the rope around his waist, Seth stretched across the plywood toward the moose calf and tied the other end around its neck. Together, he and his dad pulled the calf closer to shore, far enough out of the water so Seth could slip another rope under the calf’s front legs.
Thundering overhead, the helicopter whipped the few remaining autumn leaves off branches, dropping them onto the frozen creek bed below. A white rope dropped from the passenger side of the copter into nearby brush.
Seth grabbed the rope and knotted it around the calf’s girth, just behind its front legs. He pulled on the ropes to make sure they’d hold, then stepped back and signaled with a wave to the helicopter.
Effortlessly, like a father scooping a child in his arms, the helicopter lifted the calf slowly upward, hovered for a second above the creek, then moved over the treetops toward the trail.
“Good work,” Dad said, standing behind Seth.
Seth turned. “Thanks, but Fm not ready to take over your job, not yet anyway.” For a second he beamed, and then he grew serious.
“Dad,” he said, shuffling his feet uncomfortably, “we need to talk.” He didn’t want to shatter his dad’s new respect for him, but he had to start being honest.
“Here?” Dad said with a mixture of laughter and irritation. “I’m sure it can wait till we get home. Ray’s waiting.” He
pushed through the brush and began to walk away.
“Dad, I broke the law,” Seth said loudly, his feet planted, “just like those poachers!”
Dad turned around and walked up to Seth. He raised his eyebrows. “You what?”
“I took out my shotgun without you,” Seth said, eyes lowered. How could he look his dad in the eyes now? “That’s when I came across the moose tracks for the first time—and I shot a rabbit.”
Seth glanced up, waiting for Dad’s blue eyes to cloud over, waiting for him to get angry, waiting for him to say something. Anything.
The helicopter droned in the distance.
“Well?” Seth said. “Don’t you have to arrest me or something?”
The muscles around Dad’s jaw tightened, then relaxed. Finally, he shook his head. “No,” he said. “Doing what’s right, like you just did, takes a whole lot more strength than it does to do what’s wrong. If you want to know the truth, I’m proud of you. You’ve grown up a lot without my realizing it.” He paused and rubbed his gloved hand across his unshaven face. “I think, Seth, that with all you’ve been through, you’ve already paid a pretty hefty penalty. What do you say?”
Seth didn’t know what to say. He felt a sense of wholeness, of being complete, as though he’d passed a different kind of test than he’d expected. With his throat feeling constricted, he didn’t try to answer. He just nodded to his Dad and smiled.
When they got back to the four-wheelers, Matt and Ray had already secured the calf from the helicopter into the poachers’ trailer. Its legs were folded beneath it, its head drooped across the front edge, eyes closed. Seth walked over to it and cautiously touched its coarse wet hair.
He glanced at Dad, who was standing next to Ray, arms crossed over his chest. He gave Seth a thumbs-up.
Ray scratched his chin. “Hard to believe,” he said, “that those guys could make thousands of dollars selling gallbladders for cure-alls and love potions.”
“Remember that alert a few years back,” Dad said, “about a possible shipping connection from here to New York, then on to Korea?”
Ray nodded.
“At first,” Dad said, “we didn’t take it seriously. It sounded too far-fetched to be true. Gradually, however, the pieces started coming together. We just couldn’t crack their operation,” he said with a smile, “that is, until now.”
Matt winked at Seth, then hobbled to the four-wheeler, trying to ease his leg over the seat.
Seth rushed over. “Here, let me help,” he said, reaching for Matt’s boot and gently lifting it over the seat.
Matt grimaced from pain.
“Are you up to driving this back?” Seth asked quickly. “Do you think you can make it?”
Matt leveled a glare at Seth. “Quit being a mother hen, Seth. After all we’ve been through, you’re asking …”
Seth put both hands up, surrendering. “Hey, you can make it, I don’t have any doubt.”
“Just follow close, okay?” Matt said, and started the motor.
Seth grabbed Quest’s reins, slid his boot into the stirrup, and climbed into the saddle.
“Matt,” Dad called over the engine’s rumble, “better get your leg x-rayed, just in case it’s fractured. And you guys,” he added, “back the trailer up to the stall, but be careful. Remember, you’re still dealing with a wild animal. Go ahead, Seth, and call the vet.”
“Sure,” Seth answered.
“I’ll be home after we get these guys to jail,” Dad said, glancing up the hill. “My guess is they’re not in any hurry to start serving their time, probably up to twenty years each.”
Seth waved, then headed Quest down the trail behind the four-wheeler.
Quest’s steady pace and rocking motion helped quiet Seth down inside. He kept his eyes on the chocolaty brown calf only a few feet ahead. He’d actually done it: he’d helped the calf. Though it hardly moved, Seth prayed that a warm barn, some water and grain, would revive it. He’d do everything he could to help it regain its strength.
As they neared the ancient, towering Hercules, Seth stopped his horse and let Matt motor ahead.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Seth reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the silky rabbit’s foot. He stared at the paw in his open hand, then clasped it again and dropped off his horse to the ground.
The snow crunched as he stepped over the far-reaching roots of the enormous pine. Squatting down, he scooped out a small bowl of snow and gently placed the rabbit’s foot in the hollow.
“Rabbit,” he said aloud, “maybe you can’t hear me, but I’m sorry I wasted your life. At least I learned a lesson.” For a few moments, he was still. Then silently, he covered the paw with snow.
Seth looked up through the branches of the pine tree, breathed in the fresh forest air, and listened to the chatter of two red squirrels as they chased each other around and around the trunk of the towering pine, climbing ever higher toward the clusters of brown cones adorning the top.
Windows of blue opened up between the clouds. A flock of goldeneye ducks flew overhead in V formation, heading south before winter completely sheeted the lakes with ice and once again tossed her white quilt over the land.
As the flock disappeared on the horizon, Seth walked back to the trail.
He ran his fingers through Quest’s warm winter coat. Then he swung his leg up into the saddle, clicked his tongue, and cantered toward home.
Mary Casanova is the author of more than thirty books for young readers, ranging from picture books such as The Day Dirk Yeller Came to Town, Utterly Otterly Night, and One-Dog Canoe to novels, including Frozen (Minnesota, 2012). Her books are on many state reading lists and have received the American Library Association Notable Book Award, Aesop Accolades from the American Folklore Society, Parents’ Choice Gold Award, Booklist Editors’ Choice, and two Minnesota Book Awards. She speaks frequently around the country at readings, schools, and libraries.
She lives with her husband and three dogs in a turn-of-the-century house in Ranier, Minnesota, near the Canadian border.
Moose Tracks (Fesler-Lampert Minnesota Heritage) Page 7