Mysteries In Our National Parks: Ghost Horses: A Mystery in Zion National Park
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“OK, I’ll try to be friends.” Smiling slyly, he said, “So you want to learn how to dance?”
“Sure,” Ashley answered, nodding eagerly.
“Then I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you and your brother the Ghost Dance.”
Summer pushed the hair off her face, saying, “No, Ethan—”
“Yes. It’s a good dance, very old. Gotta be danced around a cedar tree.” Ethan looked completely different when he smiled. His teeth were white and square in his dark face, but the smile didn’t make it all the way up to his eyes—they still glittered coldly. “Don’t worry,” he told them. “You’ll like the Ghost Dance.” Without another word Ethan spun around and began running through the gravestones, higher and higher in the cemetery grounds until he veered off at the top of the hill. Summer followed him, glancing nervously over her shoulder as she went.
“I guess we’re supposed to go after them,” Ashley said.
“Except there’s no way I’m going to dance. Not here. Not with Ethan.”
Ashley’s voice rose half an octave. “What do you mean? We can’t tell Ethan ‘no’ when he’s finally trying to be nice. You’ve got to.”
“You dance. I’ll watch.”
“No way!” Grabbing the edge of his sleeve, Ashley tugged hard. “Please!” she begged. “Maybe it’ll make us all friends! Besides, at the powwow you said you wished you could dance like them.”
“That’s not the same thing. They had costumes and drums. Out here I feel stupid!”
“No one will see! Besides, our whole trip to Zion will be ruined if we don’t get along with them.”
That much was true. He looked around the cemetery. His parents, still talking, were finally making their way up to Sacagawea’s marker, but beyond them the grounds were completely empty. Jack heaved a sigh. “OK. But if any stranger shows up, I quit. And let go of my sleeve. You’re stretching my shirt.”
As they climbed toward the Ingawanups, Jack noticed that Ethan seemed to be searching for something. After a few minutes he began kicking rocks away from the ground around a small green tree that stood no more than two feet high.
“Hey, watch where you’re kicking those things,” Jack yelled. “One of them nearly hit my sister.”
Summer murmured, “Ethan, maybe we shouldn’t do the Ghost Dance…”
Her brother ignored her. “I just needed to clear some space around this cedar tree. I told you that’s what we’re supposed to dance around—a cedar tree.” Impatiently, he gestured for Jack and Ashley to come closer. “Go ahead,” he told Summer, who asked him, “You sure, Ethan?”
When Ethan nodded, Summer said in her soft voice, “Stand around the tree. Boy, girl, boy, girl. Take hands.” Jack grasped Summer’s hand as if in a handshake, but she shook her head and said, “No, like this,” and twined thin fingers through his.
Since there were only four of them, the circle was small—Summer, Jack, Ashley, Ethan. His voice low, Ethan began to sing:
I’yehe’ Uhi’yeye’heye’
I’yehe’ ha’dawu’hana’ Eye’de’yuhe’yu!
Ni’athu’-a-u’ a’haka’nith’ii
Ahe’yuhe’yu!
Tugging Jack’s hand, Summer moved in a circle from right to left, left foot first, followed by the right one, barely lifting her feet above the ground as they moved. Awkwardly, Jack stumbled along; on his other side, Ashley had caught the motion perfectly and danced as though she’d always done it that way. Ethan’s voice grew louder, pounding each note like a beat on a tom-tom. Jack guessed he was singing the same song over and over, although the words sounded so strange that Jack couldn’t tell whether they were being repeated or not.
He glanced down the hill to the Sacagawea monument, where his mother and father stood looking up at the kids and smiling, probably thinking how sweet it was that the four of them were doing a little circle dance together. Probably figuring that everything was all right now. But was it?
His attention was jerked back to the dance, because Ethan had stopped his chant and Summer began to speak. Her voice soft, her eyes half shut, she murmured, “Grandmother’s grandmother saw the big fire on the mountaintop. Our people were dancing the Ghost Dance. They danced. They danced. The fire burned higher.” Summer spoke in a monotone, her voice neither rising nor falling, but for some reason it made Jack’s scalp prickle.
“Grandmother’s grandmother saw the smoke. It rolled down the mountain. It covered the earth and the people and the animals. No one could see, but they kept dancing. The smoke got thicker. It hid the sky. It hid the earth. It hid the horses, and turned them into ghosts.”
Now Summer spoke in a singsong. “After two days the smoke was gone. After two days the horses were gone. They became ghost horses. But sometimes, when the people danced, the ghost horses returned.”
While she told the tale, Summer’s eyelids drooped lower and lower, while Ashley’s eyes widened until the whites showed. As for Jack, he caught the smell of—no, that was crazy. He couldn’t be smelling smoke—there wasn’t a wisp of it showing anywhere, nothing rising into the perfect blue sky, and from that high on the hill he could see all around. Then Ethan began to sing once more, louder than before,
I’yehe’ Uhi’yeye’heye’
I’yehe’ ha’dawu’hana’ Eye’de’yuhe’yu!
Ni’athu’-a-u’ a’haka’nith’ii
Ahe’yuhe’yu!
By that time, Steven and Olivia had climbed closer to where the kids danced around the little cedar tree. They were still 20 feet away when Ethan stopped abruptly and pulled his hands away from Ashley’s and Summer’s.
“Oh, don’t stop,” Olivia begged. “That was just—charming.”
Ethan turned into stone man again. He didn’t say a word.
“I loved it!” Ashley exclaimed. “Can we do it again? Maybe when we get to Zion National Park? Ethan says we need a cedar tree; I bet there’s lots of cedars in Zion. You’ll do it again, too, won’t you, Jack?”
Jack didn’t know whether he wanted to dance the Ghost Dance again. It made him feel off balance, and not just because of the strange rhythmic words that he couldn’t understand. It was something more, something he couldn’t quite wrap his thoughts around.
But the dance could be a way to keep things smooth between himself and Ethan, and for that reason alone he should agree to do it once more. What did it matter, anyway, if he shuffled around in a circle while Ethan sang, or chanted, or whatever you called it—Jack didn’t know whether the words had any meaning at all.
That part about the horses, though, that Summer told—that part was different. Ghost horses. Ghost horses moving across the empty plains in search of—what? He shivered a little, even though the mid-September sun felt warm on his arms.
“Won’t you, Jack?” Ashley’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“Sure, I’ll dance again,” Jack answered softly. He wasn’t agreeing to make Ashley happy, or to connect with Ethan and Summer or to make the trip to Zion run more smoothly. He would dance to see if in a different setting, under a different sky miles and miles from here, he would still smell that hint of invisible cedar smoke.
CHAPTER THREE
Here we are, riding in an SUV made in Korea, Jack thought. Look at us: two Shoshone kids; my mom, whose four grandparents came from Italy; my dad, with a Norwegian mother and a father who could have been from anywhere, whoever he was—my dad never knew him—and us, Ashley and me. I guess this mixed-up carload is about as American as you can get.
“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Ashley asked him.
“Nothing. Just where things came from.” Stretching his arms, Jack asked, “Hey, Ashley, do you know what they first named this park, before they changed it to Zion?”
“I don’t know,” Ashley shrugged. “What?”
“It was Mukuntuweap National Monument, in 1909. It didn’t get named ‘Zion’ until 1919.”
Wrinkling her nose, she said, “Mukuntuweap? Did I say it right? What a weird name.”
“It’s Indian,” Ethan told her. He pulled his eyes away from the window long enough to say, “This used to be Paiute land. They hunted here. This land was taken from them, just like Yellowstone was taken from us. But their spirits are still here.”
“Oh,” Ashley answered, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Well, anyway, it sure is pretty around here, no matter what the name is.” Ethan grunted and looked back out his window, pressing his forehead into the glass.
They’d rented the sport utility vehicle at the airport in St. George, Utah. Now, as they approached Zion, the flat, sandy earth changed into spires of red rock that brushed the sky like enormous statues. Eons of upheaval and erosion had molded the Navajo sandstone into strange rock formations, here rounded from wind and rain, there transformed into snaggletoothed summits that seemed to bite the clouds. As they neared the park, red rock monoliths rose up into the sky, so tall that even when he craned his neck, Jack couldn’t see their tops.
“OK, stay on this road until we come to Zion Lodge, which is right in the canyon,” Olivia told Steven as she peered at the map. “The park has booked us into three connecting rooms. Isn’t that great? We get to stay in the same building where I’m giving my lecture!”
“I never knew marrying a wildlife veterinarian would buy me a ticket into so many wonderful places,” Steven told her. “I just hope you won’t be giving your talk in a room with a big window. I mean, who would want to listen to a speech on animal pinkeye when there’s this kind of beauty all around?”
“Excuse me?” Olivia cocked her head toward her husband. “Are you saying you don’t find my topic fascinating?”
“Hmmm. Pinkeye in the deer population. I couldn’t sleep all last night just thinking about it.” Steven, who had a large, lopsided grin on his face, stole a quick glance at Olivia.
“Steven Landon, you know my lecture isn’t on pinkeye—pinkeye is just one example I’m using to show how the different branches of the government handle their animal problems. For instance, Zion won’t treat the pinkeye in their deer, since it’s national park policy not to interfere with a naturally occurring disease. The Bureau of Land Management, on the other hand, treats pinkeye with antibiotics…”
“My mom is a wildlife veterinarian,” Ashley whispered to Summer, who was sitting beside her in the very back of the SUV. “She helps rangers if there’s a problem about park animals. Lots of times we get to go with her to national parks all over the country. We’ve seen wolves and manatees and grizzlies and cougars and all kinds of stuff. It’s really cool.”
Summer nodded quietly, her eyes wide. “Are they fighting?”
Ashley answered, “Fighting? You mean my mom and dad? No!”
Jack turned in his seat to explain, “Dad just likes to give Mom a hard time. They tease each other, you know?”
Summer looked puzzled.
“…so it’s very important to grasp the different approaches.” Olivia bit the side of her lip and said, “Tell me the truth, Steven, is it boring?”
Steven answered, “Nah. I promise, it’s riveting!”
“I don’t know why you have to be such a brat,” Olivia told him, punching his arm.
“Just doin’ my job, ma’am,” Steven replied with a laugh.
Funny, Jack thought. He knew his parents well enough to tell when they were kidding, but Summer and Ethan didn’t seem to grasp that kind of banter. Had their grandmother ever joked with them? Had she taken them out to ball games or to movies or to do any of the thousand things Jack took for granted? What was their life like on the Wind River Reservation? He was about to ask them when his mother exclaimed, “Look at these canyon walls! The map says they’re just 2,000 feet from here to the tops, but they look much higher.”
“Yeah,” Steven told them, “and this skinny little Virgin River we’re driving along sliced right through that solid rock to make the canyon. Like a hot knife through butter. Only it was not just water, but the particles of rock in the water that kind of scoured it out. Did you know a million tons of sand and rock get swept out of this canyon every year? And it only took a couple hundred thousand years for all this to happen.”
“How about the next couple hundred thousand years?” Ashley called out. “What’ll happen to it then?”
“Don’t know. You check it out when you get there and send me a postcard, OK?” Steven joked.
“Ha ha, very funny, Dad. Like I’ll still be here in the year 200,000!”
“Give or take a few centuries,” he quipped. “What about you, Ethan? Summer? What are your plans for the year 200,000?”
Summer and Ethan didn’t even smile. They just stared at the sheer walls of rust-colored sandstone that rose like skyscrapers on both sides of the road. It was as though the Landons were speaking a language the Ingawanup kids didn’t understand.
As they swung around a bend, Steven slowed to a stop. A barricade blocked the road that led to the lodge; beside it, a park ranger in uniform was holding up his hand in a “halt” signal.
“What’s happening?” Ashley asked.
“We’ll find out, as soon as I can figure out how to open this window.” Steven fumbled with the unfamiliar buttons on the inside of his door until he hit the one that controlled the windows. All four windows rolled down at the same time.
The ranger, so tall that he had to bend forward to reach eye level with Steven, said, “You’ll have to turn back, sir.”
“What’s the problem?” Steven questioned.
“A horse got loose up there.” The ranger gestured toward the lodge.
Olivia leaned over to ask, “You mean one of the horses from a guided tour group?”
“No, ma’am, this is a wild mustang, and I do mean wild. It’s been kicking up a storm. We’re afraid someone might get hurt if they get in the way of the capture, so we’ve asked the lodge guests to stay inside till the horse gets caught. Also, we’re trying to keep vehicles out of the parking lot.”
“How on earth did a wild mustang get into Zion?” Olivia asked. “There aren’t any wild herds anywhere near the park, are there?”
“No ma’am. But this horse broke out of a trailer, and it ran pell-mell up the canyon till it got here between the lodge and the river. We have some guys out there trying to catch it, but so far no luck.”
“Can we watch?” Ashley asked eagerly, but her mother hushed her.
“I’m a wildlife veterinarian,” Olivia said. “If there’s anything I can do to help, I’d be glad to. What about darting it with a tranquilizer?”
Smiling back at her, the ranger said, “I bet you’re Dr. Landon, right? I plan to come and hear you speak tomorrow.”
“Right.” She reached across Steven to shake the ranger’s hand. “And this is my husband, Steven.”
“Pleased to meet you both. Well, as far as darting her, if a tranquilizer put the mustang down, we’d have no way to drag her out. So we’re trying to rope her instead. What’s happening is”—he leaned his arms on the car door—“the tour-group horses that the visitors ride are corralled over there beside the lodge. This mustang seems like she wants to get near them—she keeps whinnying, and they whinny back, but every time she comes close to the corral, she gets spooked and runs away again.” He looked up the road as if he were considering something, then said, “Why don’t you go ahead into the parking lot, and then I’ll take you to where the horse is running now. Maybe you can give us some suggestions, Dr. Landon.”
“Call me Olivia. And I’d be happy to help.”
The ranger pulled back the wooden barrier to let the Landons’ SUV roll through. As they drove forward, Steven shook his head in pretend disapproval and said, “Did you guys see how your mother was flirting with that ranger? Shameless, isn’t she?”
“Hey, it worked,” Ashley answered. “He’s gonna let us into the parking lot. Way to go, Mom!” Ethan just stared at his hands, but a tiny smile twitched the corners of Summer’s lips. Maybe she was beginning to catch on to Steven’s teasing.
They drove into a large paved area in front of a four-pillared building made of stone that matched the ginger color of the tall canyon peaks. A U.S. flag on a silvery pole hung limp in the still air. Beneath it, the vast lawn was empty of people. And there was no sign of the mustang.
“Steven, why don’t you and the kids register,” Olivia said, “while I try to find out what’s going on with that horse.”
“Wait. I want to go with you, Mom—please?” Jack pleaded.
“Me too.” Ashley took Summer’s hand and asked, “You want to come?”
Shyly, Summer said, “Yes,” while Ethan gave a terse nod.
“OK, leave the stuff in the car, and we’ll all walk up,” Steven said. “Just make sure you kids don’t get in the way of the wranglers.”
The park ranger who’d stopped them at the barrier now pointed them toward the area west of the lodge, to the other side of the road, where the Virgin River flowed, pleasant and gentle. Jack thought that the Virgin didn’t look powerful enough to slice through a loaf of bread, let alone through sandstone cliffs thousands of feet high.
Several trucks with horse trailers attached were parked side by side in a half-circle on the road. As they approached, Steven peered at a man next to one of the trailers. His brow furrowed in a frown, and then he stared harder.
“Hey,” he said, “I think—no, I’m sure. I know that guy.”
Leaving the rest of them behind, Steven ran toward a tall, grizzled man wearing a shirt with vertical stripes, jeans, and boots, and topping it all off with a huge black cowboy hat. “Len?” he called, “Len Pelton? It’s you, isn’t it?”
The man’s mouth dropped in surprise as he shouted. “Steve? Steve-o, you young son of a gun! Well, my heck, where in thunder did you come from?”
They grabbed each other in a big bear hug with a lot of backslapping. By the time Olivia and the kids reached them, Steven was grinning so widely his eyes almost disappeared in wrinkles of glee. “This is my old group supervisor from the boys’ ranch,” he explained. “I started out in regular foster homes, but then the state decided it would be better for me at the ranch. At first I was scared to go, but Len—he made me feel like I belonged. I’ll tell you, that was a great time for me.”
“Yep, you was with me from the time you was what? Sixteen, seventeen?”
“Fifteen. And I stayed till high-school graduation,” Steven answered. “So what are you doing here?”
The man raised his hat to wipe his forehead with a big handkerchief. “Workin’. Too hard, sometimes,” he said, and grinned. “I’m with the Park Service now. We keep a couple of horses here in Zion for search-and-rescue operations and for jobs like this one. What happened today was—a couple of lady ranchers adopted a wild mustang from the Bureau of Land Management. They was drivin’ through the park this mornin’ and stopped at the visitor center for a hour or so, when the pin on their trailer door worked loose, and the horse busted out.”
Again the brim of the hat got tilted back; this time Len scratched the top of his balding head.
“The mustang was adopted, you said?” Steven asked, encouraging Len to go on with the story.
“Yep, you know how the BLM adopts out wild mustangs every now and then. This one’s a young mare, and she’s been leadin’ us a merry dance. I’m wore out from chasin’ her. Ain’t as young as I once was.” Len laughed and patted his round belly; it bulged over the big silver buckle on his belt. Then he said, “Hey, Steve-o, wanna try her?”
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