Rocky Mountain Justice (The Legend of Camel's Hump) (15 page)
Read Rocky Mountain Justice (The Legend of Camel's Hump) Online
Authors: Jeff Noonan
There was some discussion when George finished talking. Everyone had an opinion on the actions that were needed. Ray and Red thought they should just get the townspeople to attack and free the girl. But Dawn and her father were for the law-abiding course of action and argued for the Helena option. Wayne still liked the idea of going over to the reservation for help. Hilda just listened.
Finally, Hilda spoke up. “We have two problems here,” she said. “One is that we don’t have any time to waste. If those guys figure out that we know about her, they’ll kill that girl. Plus, Jerry won’t be able to avoid them for long. So we’ve got to do something. The second problem is that this isn’t the Old West. We don’t have a town full of gunfighters. So any frontal assault is out.”
After a moment, Hilda continued, “Here is what I propose: George, You get in your truck and head to Helena. You can get the law moving, but it’ll take a few days to get them out from behind their desks, and that’s time we don’t have. Wayne, get in your truck – Oops, I mean Jerry’s car – and head for the reservation. The Indians can get here fast, rescue the girl, and hold down the fort until the law shows up. What do you think?”
With that, George’s big grin finally came out, like a sudden sunrise after a thunderstorm. “I like it. I’ll head for Helena. Dawn get me the film from your camera. I’ll stop in Missoula and have it developed on my way over. Wayne, I’ve got another work truck that’s probably more dependable than Jerry’s car. Take it and let’s get on the road!”
Wayne took the truck keys and smiled at George. “My friend the last time we headed out of here like this, we ended up getting our butts shot off overseas. Let’s hope this doesn’t end up the same way.” He held out his hand. They shook, both grinning, and headed for the door.
Wayne stopped at the door and looked back at the four still remaining in the living room. “You guys break up now. Go over to the celebration, but keep quiet. This is the biggest secret you have ever had and it has to stay secret! Does everyone understand?” “Yes Sir!” came in a chorus from the three teens. Hilda just nodded at him. “Get out of here, Big Brother. We’ll be here doing our part.” He smiled and left.
Hilda watched the two men climb into their trucks. Then she turned to Dawn and the boys. She said, “Fellas, we need to make sure that everything stays calm here in town. I’m going to go home now and I want you to go to the celebration. Listen to everything that happens and get back to me if there is any news. That toad of a sheriff will be spreading rumors. Try to squash the rumors, but don’t tell anyone anything that could possibly endanger the girl or our plans. If anyone asks, we haven’t seen Jerry, Wayne, or George. Understood?” They agreed and headed for the Labor Day celebration.
W
hen they arrived at the celebration, Sheriff Montgomery’s car was in the parking lot. Dawn could see the sheriff on the bandstand, addressing a crowd that had gathered. She rode her bicycle to the front of the crowd to hear what was happening. Ray and Red had ridden out together and they were at the rear of the crowd.
The sheriff was just winding down a speech about how his office had been investigating the “suspicious fire” that had leveled the Moore’s home. As Dawn came to a stop in front of him, he was saying, “We now know who started this fire and I expect an arrest in the near future. The guy that did this was a bit sloppy and he left some clues here that we found when we investigated the day after the fire.” At that, one of the townspeople shouted, “Sheriff, can you describe the clues or name the suspect?” The sheriff replied, “Well, we don’t want to be premature, but we believe that it was a young man that had been embarrassed by the Widow Moore recently. His name is Jerry Flynn. We are certain that he set the fire in an attempt to murder the widow. We found an article of clothing that we believe belongs to this individual. We’re verifying ownership and we’ve checked the blood type from some blood on the shirt. We also found a gas can that had held the kerosene used to start the fire. It was in a ditch near the house. It had Flynn’s fingerprints on it. We intend to proceed with an arrest as soon as we locate him.”
Dawn’s mind was racing. She knew exactly what the sheriff’s “article of clothing” was, and she was outraged. She took a long breath to calm herself and then raised her hand, as if she was in school asking the teacher a question. Sheriff Montgomery looked down at her and, with a broad smile on his face, said, “Yes, young lady? Did you have a question?” Deciding to match his hypocritical congeniality, Dawn put on her best smile and cleared her throat before saying, in her loudest voice, “Sheriff, I sincerely hope that this evidence isn’t the bloody, blue shirt and the can that I saw you carry out of the Flynn home after you pistol-whipped Jerry Flynn. Is that it?” The sheriff’s jaw went slack for a moment, his phony smile still in place. Then he rapidly recovered with, “Young Lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if you’re attempting to cast doubt on my office or its investigation, you could find yourself in some serious trouble!” He had raised his voice, in spite of the fact that he was using a microphone, and suddenly the entire crowd was listening.
Ray, who had been walking forward through the crowd, lost his temper and all the plans they had made were forgotten. He just knew that he had seen and heard enough. He shouted, “Sheriff, you’re a liar! I saw you plant that shirt in the broken lilac bush over there and then take pictures of it. Not only that, but that shirt is mine; it’s one that I loaned to Jerry to wear on the day that you beat him. If you want to know who burned our house down, just look in the mirror – or look at your deputy. But don’t try to railroad anyone from Dublin!” By now, Ray was close to the front of the crowd looking up at the sheriff.
The sheriff reacted before anyone could intervene. He jumped off the bandstand and ran directly at Ray, shouting “You lying little bastard! You can’t pull this crap on me!” His hand reached for Ray’s neck as Ray flinched back from this sudden assault. But the sheriff’s hand never reached Ray. Another hand, a much bigger hand, came out of nowhere and grabbed his wrist, stopping him cold. Big, quiet, Otto moved in front of the sheriff, coolly looking him in the eye and saying, “Please, do not do this Mister Sheriff. I don’t vant to hurt you, but your arm vill be broken before I let you touch dis boy. Do you understand me?” As he spoke, he exerted one-handed pressure on the sheriff’s wrist; pressure that threatened to buckle his knees. He screamed at Otto, “Let go, you idiot. I’ll arrest all of you! Let go!” But Otto didn’t blink, “I run vunce from people like you. I run no more. I’m gonna let you go and you’re gonna leave.” With that, he released the wrist and the sheriff stepped back, his face twisted into a look of pure hate. He half-turned away from Otto, his hidden hand reaching for his holstered service revolver.
But again he was too slow. Young Al Koski stepped forward and knocked his hand away from the gun. At that, Otto moved forward and removed the black revolver from its holster. Staring directly at the sheriff, Otto flipped open the cylinder and shook the pistol’s ammunition out on the ground. Then he replaced the revolver in its holster. Still looking very serious, Otto then put his big arm over the sheriff’s shoulders and, holding him tight, steered him through the crowd saying, “Ve go now, Mister Sheriff. You must leave.” The hostile crowd parted before them as Otto led the sheriff to his car.
Looking around, Sheriff Montgomery saw that there wasn’t going to be any help here. He was surrounded by the men of Dublin and there wasn’t a friendly face in the crowd. He climbed into his car, yelling over his shoulder, “This isn’t over! I’ll be back and some of you are going to jail! You can’t get away with this!” With that, he spun his tires getting the car turned around and on the road toward town.
J
erry drove the pickup through town as inconspicuously as possible. He pulled his father’s snap-brimmed hat low over his eyes and sat on an old coat, trying to appear taller. But no one was on the street. With the exception of a few men hanging out in Honest Tom’s bar, the whole town was out at the celebration. Soon Jerry was on the dirt road leading toward Flynn Lake and the Idaho border.
He relaxed when the pickup turned onto the dirt road. He felt relieved, as if the events of today had lifted a huge load from his shoulders. He thought about the problems he’d left for his father and George to resolve, wondering how they would decide to handle the job of going after the sheriff and Ike. But he wasn’t really worried about it. No matter which route they chose, he knew that the two former Marines were up to the task.
He really didn’t even see the beauty of the forest around him on this trip. His mind was spinning, thinking about the events of the past few days. Slowly, he came to the realization that he was a fugitive from the law. Not only that but they were charging him with attempted murder! This was serious, deadly serious. This thought scared him badly, but he made a conscious decision not to think about it. There was nothing he could do to change the situation and he had a lot of confidence in his father and big George. If anyone could get him out of this jam, it was them. For now, his biggest task was going to be staying hidden from the two renegade lawmen.
Finally he arrived at the cabin. He hid the pickup in the cedar grove behind the cabin, took the old Model 94 Winchester Carbine out of the pickup gun rack and went into the cabin. The rifle was an old friend that he had used many times in the past. Its smooth stock fit his hand nicely, giving him a feeling of comfort and confidence. He located his father’s military.45 Caliber pistol in its holster hanging on a hook in the pantry. Then he went looking for bullets, which he eventually found in his father’s underwear drawer. After making sure both guns were clean and loaded, he began looking around the cabin, checking to see what he had for supplies. He found that he had plenty of food on the cabin shelves and his father’s cot was available. There was also a good sleeping bag that they kept here for the rare occasions when Jerry visited and stayed overnight.
Relieved to find that he was adequately supplied, he decided to relax for a bit. He opened a bottle of pop, walked out to the porch and sat down.
He relaxed and looked around, admiring the little lake and its mountain setting for the thousandth time. Then he turned his attention to the road into the valley and suddenly he realized that he had a problem. He could only see about twenty feet of the roadway from the cabin. Any further and the trees and the slope of the hill hid the road from view completely. The cabin had not been built with defense in mind. It was deep in the hollow of the valley, where anyone could approach it undetected. It was a natural trap. He had to get out of there!
Taking the carbine, he walked up the road toward town. He only had to go about a thousand feet to find what he was looking for. The road crested the hill above the lake and started down toward town. From the crest, he could see the road for almost a mile as it zigzagged it’s way down the mountain. From where he was standing, there was a small, but very steep, hill just to his right. It was almost devoid of vegetation and looked like it flattened out at its crest. He climbed to the top of it and found that he was standing on a perfect defensive spot. The top of the hill was covered with rock outcroppings that formed a cover between the hilltop and the road. As an added benefit, he could see down the road even further than before. He decided that this was going to be his hiding spot, not the cabin. He left the carbine and climbed back down to the cabin.
Jerry assembled supplies to take to the hilltop by going through the cabin and dumping selected items in the center of the floor. He took the sleeping bag, some food that didn’t require heating, a folding chair, the pistol, all the ammunition, and a set of binoculars. When he had everything together, he began carrying it all back to his hilltop. Soon he had a well-outfitted little campsite set up on the hill. When he finished hauling the supplies, he spent an hour moving some rocks to the crest of the hill to complete a barricade between his camp and the road
He stayed close to the camp for the next two days, watching the road to be sure no one approached. He slept on the hilltop, with the sleeping bag positioned so that any lights from cars coming up the hill would shine between two rocks in the barricade and hit him in the face. He really wasn’t comfortable with this because he knew that distant headlights might not wake him. So his sleep was fitful and he was often awakened by false alarms.
It was midday on his third day in the little mountaintop fortress that he finally saw movement far down the road. Grabbing the binoculars, he watched as something moved through the cedar canopy, heading toward him. Finally it came into the clear and he was able to identify it. It was his old Ford Coupe! He relaxed and grinned.
Probably Ray bringing me news and food,
he thought. He decided to stay where he was for a while. He watched the old car move in and out of the trees, stirring up a huge cloud of dust as it climbed the mountain toward him.
Jerry took a seat on his rock barricade and watched his car approach. Eventually it got close enough for him to make out that it held two people. His heart soared and he jumped to his feet. Ray was driving, but Dawn was with him. Nothing could have made Jerry happier. He couldn’t wait to see her; hug her; kiss her. He had missed her horribly, even though he had only been here a few days.
He climbed over the barricade and started to descend the hill to meet them. Then he suddenly caught a flash of light; a flash of reflected sunlight, far back down the hill. It was just there for a moment before it disappeared in the dust cloud, but it was enough to stop Jerry’s descent. He climbed back to the barricade, found his binoculars, and began scanning the road behind his coupe. At first he saw nothing, muttering to himself, “Probably just my imagination”. He was ready to give up and resume his descent when it came into plain view.
