Chapter 10

“Has this ever erupted like Old Faithful?”

The ranger nodded. “A few times, but only after an earthquake.”

While people chuckled over the wisdom of not tickling a volcano, Logan agreed. “I’d say letting a volcano sleep makes a helluva lot of sense.”

Checking his watch, Logan realized he’d spent enough time here, and now he’d have to backtrack to the gate and take another road through the Lamar Valley and Mammoth to the Wyoming exit.

As he drove, he thought about his connection to the ancient peoples who had been nomads following the seasons and the migrating buffalo herds. He could imagine them struggling through the dense virgin forests here with their possessions in hand—the men carrying the poles and buffalo hides to make their tipis, others carrying spears, bows, arrows, and bearskins for bedding. They would set up their shelters, then hunt, fish, gather berries and seeds, and slake their thirst drinking the pristine river water.