Rocky Mountain Justice (The Legend of Camel's Hump) (20 page)

They had eaten dinner and were in their rooms for the night when the deputy sheriff came for them. He was banging on Agent Ryan’s door so loudly that both the highway patrolman and a half-dozen other people came out of their rooms to see what was causing the commotion. When the agent opened his door, the deputy was so excited that he spluttered unintelligibly when he tried to talk. The agent tried to calm him with, “OK Deputy. Take a deep breath and start over”. Still the words were garbled until the FBI Agent took control and gave his shoulder a sharp shake. That shocked the deputy out of it. “We just got a call from the Dublin grocer, a German named Otto. He says that Sheriff Montgomery has been shot dead. I couldn’t get any more details. He was so excited that he was speaking German half the time and wasn’t making much sense. I came right away to get you so you could be in charge. I ain’t got the experience for this kind of work!” “OK Deputy, go back to the jail and wait for us. Get someone to cover the jail. You’re coming with us. We’ll get dressed and be right over.”

The three men arrived in Dublin less than an hour later. They cruised past Otto’s grocery store, but it was dark so they went on to Honest Tom’ Bar. It was empty except for a bartender sipping coffee and playing the slot machines. The bartender knew nothing, so they got in the car prepared to cruise the town. But almost immediately they spotted the sheriff’s big patrol car parked at the Parker home. The house was well-lit, so they pulled in beside the patrol car and stopped.

They could see the activity through the front window. It looked like half the town was there. The agent recognized George from their meeting in Helena. The deputy pointed at another huge man who was talking excitedly with George and said, “Look there’s the grocer, Otto.” The agent looked over at his highway patrol counterpart and nodded. They’d discussed the approach before and neither of them was sure that they could trust the deputy. They got out of the car and walked toward the door.

A large woman opened the door and invited them in. She had obviously been crying and was still sniffing as she introduced herself as Hilda Moore. She asked them in and walked away to help another woman tend to what appeared to be a sick person in the adjoining bedroom. Then George spotted them from across the room and came their way, with his big voice booming. “Come on in. Don’t be bashful. We need your help more than ever.”

The agent approached George, saying, “What’s going on, George? We got a garbled message that Sheriff Montgomery is dead. That brought us here on the run. What can you tell us?” George motioned for them to follow him as he stepped toward the door. “There are too many people in here. I can’t hear myself think. Let’s go outside for a minute. Wayne, would you join us?” Agent Ryan saw another big man nod and move through the noisy crowd toward the door. He joined them and the five men moved out onto the porch.

George began the story, with Wayne chiming in some details as they went on, “The sheriff has been looking for Wayne’s son, Jerry Flynn. He claimed that Jerry had torched his Aunt’s house a couple of months ago.” The Agent interrupted him at that point with, “I know about that. I looked at the case today in Big River. It looks to me like the sheriff is probably right. He has put together a lot of evidence.” At that, both George and Wayne stiffened and looked at each other. Wayne nodded at George and, as if by a prearranged signal, George picked up the story, “Jerry has been hiding out in the mountains for a few days. This morning, my daughter, Dawn, and Jerry’s cousin, Ray, drove out to a place called Flynn Lake, hoping to meet up with Jerry. He was there and they met at the parking spot beside the lake. A few minutes after they arrived, Sheriff Montgomery drove up and blocked their car in. The sheriff got out of his car, but he didn’t even try to arrest anyone. He just got out of the car and started shooting. He shot both boys before they could get a shot off.” George paused and looked at Wayne again and again received the little nod. He continued, “Jerry went down but he managed to get off a shot at the sheriff with the little.38 pistol he was carrying. At the same time, the sheriff shot him again. Both Jerry and the sheriff were killed. They’re still lying in the road up at the lake. My daughter brought Ray down in the sheriff’s car. He’s back in my bedroom, trying to live. I dunno if he’ll make it or not. When Dawn told us the story, I took a couple of guys up there to see if we could save either Jerry or the sheriff, but it was too late. I left a kid named Red at the lake to guard the bodies and make sure nothing is disturbed before you get there to see it for yourself. He’s up there now, probably scared silly. He’s only about twelve years old.”

Agent Ryan didn’t hesitate. “All right, George. I want someone to go with us as a guide, but I don’t want a bunch of people. Too many people would screw up anything we might be able to use as evidence. Can you go with us?” “Certainly.” Then Wayne offered, “I’ll go too, if you like.” But the FBI man refused. “I’m sorry, but you’re too close to this. Please wait here until we get back. I’ll want to ask all of you a bunch of questions then. George, do you have some flashlights that we can use?”

As soon as George found the necessary equipment, he and Agent Ryan climbed into his pickup and left. The other two lawmen followed in their car. Once they were in the truck and on their way, the agent asked George, “What’s happened with that deputy sheriff and the Indian girl? Is anything new there?” With a perfectly straight face, George replied, “I don’t know. I guess it’s still the same. This other thing has had me too busy to give it much attention today.” The agent was lost in deep thought for a while, then he mused, “We’ll go out there tomorrow and see what we find. This killing thing has to take priority for now. But I want that Ike character bad. I can’t stop thinking about the girl in the root cellar.” George agreed, “I know. I got the pictures developed that I told you about and my eyes water every time I think about them. That girl has it even worse than I had thought when we talked.” The men lapsed into a silence that lasted until they arrived at the lake.

Little Red saw the caravan approaching. He had to admit that he was glad to see them. It was spooky hanging out up here on the mountain surrounded by dead people. As the cars slowly crawled up the mountain, he used a battery-powered mine light to inspect the area again. “Looks good,” he muttered to himself, “they won’t find anything but the tracks of a confused twelve year-old messing up the scene. Who can fault a scared kid for screwing up all the evidence?”

He was proud that he had been included in all of this. George and Otto had listened to him as if he was a full-grown equal as the three had put together their plan. He sure hoped it would work. If it did, everyone would come out of this in good shape. If it didn’t, at least two of his friends would be going to jail for a long, long, time. He looked around again, inspecting his handiwork. Satisfied, he stood to the side and waited for the two sets of headlights to wind their way to where he waited. He had done a good job of following the plan the three of them had agreed on.

It was a long night for all of them. When they were finished inspecting the area and recording their findings, the agent and his highway patrol friend left their notes with the deputy sheriff so that he could prepare the official report. An ambulance found its way to the scene and, after the sun came up and they could take a reasonable set of pictures, the deputy released the two bodies to the care of the ambulance driver.

With the killing scene under control, Agent Ryan and the highway patrolman went back to Dublin and got directions to Ike Schumann’s sheep ranch. They parked their car at the cattle guard at the entrance to the road into the ranch and quietly walked the rest of the way. They stayed for several hours before they hiked back out and headed for Dublin. They drove straight to the Parker home and knocked on the door.

George answered the door and invited them in. He and Ida were both in the living room, as were Wayne Flynn and his sister, Hilda Moore. It was apparent that the ladies had been crying and the men had been consoling them. Otto and little Red were also there, looking a bit uncomfortable, but trying to help. Ryan floundered for a moment as he took in the scene. He was uncomfortable interrupting, but business was business. Then George relieved the pressure by asking, “What happened? I don’t see Ike or the Indian girl with you. Did you find the place?”

The FBI man answered with a tired-sounding, “Yeah, we found it, but there wasn’t much there. Have any of you seen anyone else go up there recently?” George was quick to answer. “Nope, I haven’t seen anyone except Ike and Sheriff Montgomery go that way for weeks.” The others in the room agreed. They were being very honest. They hadn’t seen anyone go there.

When the answers died out, George asked, “Why? Is something wrong?” The exhausted FBI Agent sat down on a nearby chair. “I just don’t know what to make of it. The place was immaculate except for that little stone building. It was filthy and had obviously been used to hold a prisoner for a long time. There was a half-full bucket that had been used as a toilet and little scratchings in the walls like prisoners make when they’re bored. There was a cot and a couple of filthy blankets, but that was the only furniture. The one unusual thing was a paper bag that was pinned to the inside of the door by a deputy sheriff’s badge.”

The FBI Agent paused and then went on, “In the driveway and around the house there weren’t even any tracks. It was as if no one had been there for weeks. Then we noticed car tracks going through the field behind the house and we followed them. They led us to an open little field where there was a garbage pit and six graves that had been opened and emptied recently.”

At this his audience broke their silence. Wayne was the first to speak coherently. “Are you sure they were graves?” The Highway Patrolman answered this time. “Yeah, there was enough sign to be positive about that. There were bits of rotten clothing and a smell that I’ll never forget. The whole damned place is right out of a horror story. It’s obvious that something grotesque has taken place there. But the place has been sanitized, or at least partially sanitized, and Ike, the girl, and the six dead people are missing.”

No one said anything for a while as this statement sank in. Then George spoke up. “We almost forgot to give you the pictures the kids took up there. They’ll tell you what was there a few days ago. We can’t explain why it’s changed.” He produced the photos, laying them out on the kitchen table. The agent studied them, asking questions that required answers from Dawn.

When they finished with the pictures, Agent Ryan remarked, almost casually, “As I see it, there’s only one possible explanation for this. Somehow one of the Indian Tribes must have tracked down their missing woman – or maybe one of the dead ones. They found what we saw in the pictures and they took care of business. There just isn’t any other explanation.” The group around him all nodded their heads in agreement and he continued the thought. “This is one of those things that will never have a positive answer. I know the tribes well enough to know that they’ll handle this without any help from us. I’m just going to write a report and file it. Anything else that we could do would just be a waste of money.” The highway patrolman agreed, saying, “Yup. There ain’t a chance they’ll ever tell us anything. This whole mess will eventually be just another Rocky Mountain legend. But I sure wish I knew where that Ike character is. I’d like to see him rot in jail!” There was total agreement on this point.

Wayne asked the question that was on all of their minds. “Was there anything in the paper bag that was stuck to that door out there.” The agent looked concerned at this question and said, “Yeah, but I’d rather not say in front of the ladies.” Ida Parker replied to that with a snort. “Like heck. We’re full-grown and we want to know what happened out there.” At that, the FBI agent reluctantly decided to speak. “Ok then, here it is. Someone was gelded out there. The bag had two human testicles in it!”

George smiled grimly at this news. “I don’t think you need to worry about Ike. I have a feeling that his life isn’t going to be so pleasant from here out.”

No one noticed the two teen-agers in the bedroom exchange smiles at that news.

George and the agent talked for a few minutes further, but the sounds of Widow Moore’s weeping and the sight of her and her brother trying to console one another was too sad to allow small talk. George finally gave up the effort. “This is just too hard right now. Jerry Flynn is gone and we all loved him a lot. He was one hell of a good kid, regardless of what that sheriff claimed. Let’s just button this thing up so that we can start trying to get back to normal around here.” Otto murmured his concurrence. “Ya, enough’s enough. These people have lost a son. Let’s get out of here and leave them alone.”

Agent Ryan took a long look around the room. It was obvious that Otto was right. He smiled a tired smile and turned to the highway patrolman waiting in the doorway for him. “Let’s go. We have a mountain of paperwork to do before we can go home. We’d better get started.”

The two tribes worked together seamlessly. The smaller men, the ones with the turquoise decorations on their clothes, gently took custody of the body of their beloved Annette and wrapped her in their traditional burial blankets before placing her carefully in a prepared place in a pickup bed. The Apache’s had arrived in two pickup trucks, one of which sported a camper top. There had been almost no talking as the grim transfer was made from one pickup bed to the other.