Rocky Mountain Justice (The Legend of Camel's Hump) (9 page)

Jerry and Dawn had gone directly to the soda fountain in Otto’s grocery store. Ordering root beer floats, they took seats at the big table beside the store’s front window. “Little Red”, a twelve-year-old friend, was already sitting there. He was the local paperboy and he always stopped at Otto’s after making his deliveries. Known by the town’s teenagers to be a bit of a character, Red was a smart youngster who, although very bashful, had opinions on everything if you could get him to talk. They joined him and sat down to chat. As soon as they had exchanged greetings, Red asked Jerry, “Have you heard anything from the preacher today?” “No, why do you ask?” “Well, I went there to deliver the paper today and I noticed that several old papers were still on the porch. Their dog was whining at me from the back yard, so I went over and he was in the yard with no food or water. I watered him, but I didn’t have any food. I tried knocking on the preacher’s door, but no one answered, so I came over here.” Jerry thought for a minute and then replied, “I hope nothing’s wrong there. I’ll run over and take a look. I know where they keep the dog food, so I can feed the dog. But it’s not like them to just leave that mutt alone without a sitter. They paid me to take care of it the last time they went anywhere. I’ll go check it out – be back in a few minutes.” With that, he rose and walked out to his car.

Driving down the street to the Long’s home, Jerry was troubled. They hadn’t thought much about it at the time, but it just wasn’t like the pastor to not show up for a town meeting and now this! Was there more evil afoot that they hadn’t considered? He was glad that Dawn had decided to stay at the soda fountain. He was going to go in and check the house. “
Just in case.”
He pulled up at the gate to the Long’s yard and walked through it. Just as Red had said, the dog was all over him, whining and obviously hungry. Jerry went to the screened-in back porch and got some dry dog food. He had to hold the bag up to his shoulders to keep it away from the famished dog while he took it across the yard to the dog’s food bowl.

While the dog ate, Jerry went around to the front door and knocked several times. When there was no response, he tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. Opening the door, he shouted, “Halloo! Halloo! Is anybody home? Hello! Is anybody home?” He repeated this several times before opening the door wider. When he did, an awful stench hit him and he backed away in shock. Then he turned back and went into the house, moving slowly and cautiously. He was suddenly very afraid of what he would find in this little home.

The source of the smell was obvious as soon as he entered and his eyes adjusted to the gloom. There was a smeared, half-dry, puddle of grey liquid, obviously vomit, on the foyer floor. “Pastor! Mrs. Long! Are you here?” He was almost screaming. Then, with a conscious effort, he calmed himself. Walking carefully around the obscene puddle on the floor, he moved into the living room – then the kitchen – then the bedrooms and the bathroom. To his relief, the Longs were nowhere to be found. Their bedroom was a mess, with drawers standing open and clothing strewn over the carefully-made bed.
“It looks like they packed in a hurry and just left without even cleaning that pool of crap in the foyer.”
Touching nothing, he moved toward the door. When he passed through the foyer he hesitated, tempted to clean up the stinking mess on the floor. But caution overcame him and he left it.
“It could be evidence – but evidence of what?”
He stepped through the door and closed it carefully, breathing deeply of the sweet, fresh, outside air.

He walked to his car and, as he was getting in, the pastor’s big Pontiac pulled in beside him. Startled, he looked over and saw that Mrs. Long was in the driver’s seat. The pastor was not with her. Jerry quickly got out of his car and walked around to where Mrs. Long was struggling to get her cramped muscles out of the car. Jerry held the door and offered her a hand up, which she gratefully took. “Thanks Jerry.” Then the words tumbled out of the boy, nervous that he might have gone too far in entering the home, “Sure, Mrs. Long. I just fed your dog. Red said that it was whining, so I came over and took care of it. I went into the house to look for you, but no one was home. Where is the pastor? Is he all right?”

Mrs. Long looked at him for a long time before answering. “Jerry, I don’t know what you think that you saw, but it is nothing. The pastor took a bad fall the other night, so I took him to the hospital over in Missoula. He has four broken ribs and some internal damage, but he’s going to be OK. They kept him for a few days, just to make sure that they found everything.” She paused, then, “He just tripped and fell in the foyer. It was just him being clumsy as usual.” She tried to smile at this, but failed miserably. She looked to Jerry as if she wanted to cry, not smile. He could tell that she was lying to him, but for what? Quickly he came to the conclusion that this was not the time to pry. He said, “Can I help with anything? Is there anything that any of us can do while Pastor Long is gone?” “No, Jerry, but thank you. I just want to go in and catch up on some sleep.”

With that, Jerry said his goodbyes and got back in the old Ford. He was pretty sure that he already knew what Mrs. Long was lying about. It was way too much of a coincidence that the pastor had sustained broken ribs on the same night that Aunt Hilda’s house burned down; the same night that the sheriff had attacked him. Besides, Jerry thought, there’s no furniture in the foyer; nothing that could have broken the pastor’s ribs if he had fallen there. Her story was impossible, but she was obviously too scared to reveal the truth. It didn’t matter. To Jerry, the truth was obvious.

Dawn and little Red had started talking as soon as Jerry left the soda fountain. With all the recent events, there was a lot to talk about and the two let their imaginations run wild on theories about the pastor and his wife. Soon two other local teens, Dale and Rick Miller, joined them. Conjecture and theories ran rampant and soon, in spite of themselves, the group started getting silly. Dale and Rick had always been the school cut-ups and they soon got started, turning the week’s events into comedy fodder. Before long, the group was laughing uncontrollably as they theorized that this whole episode must have been a conspiracy between Otto (who voiced a boisterous protest from behind the soda fountain) and the preacher to get tourists to notice the town so they could export “Preacher-Speak” to a new audience from far away – probably someplace exotic like New Jersey.

None of them could keep their faces straight as the Miller brothers went through their “Otto and the Preacher” comedy routine. Both Dawn and Red laughed along with the brothers, but they were watching for Jerry’s return. He had been gone too long and both were worried about what he might have found at the pastor’s house. They didn’t give voice to their thoughts, but both watched the road anxiously. Red was closest to the window and he kept checking the roadway, even while the others laughed hysterically. It was in one of those moments that he noticed the sheriff’s car come down the road from the east of town. Holding up his hand and pointing at the car, he said “Look, That son-of-a-bitch is back in town!” The laughter stopped and everyone stared as the sheriff drove by the storefront and headed up the highway toward Camel’s Hump. Ike Schumann’s sheep farm sat in a tiny valley at the base of Camel’s Hump Mountain.

Otto broke the silence with, “I hope they stay at Ike’s place. Don’t need them here!” With that, the conversation resumed. But suddenly there was no laughter. Everyone was deadly serious as they speculated about the reason for the sheriff’s visit.

Shortly after the sheriff passed, Jerry pulled up in front of the store and came in at a trot. Excitedly he told them what he had encountered at the pastor’s home. The conversation turned even more serious. A few moments earlier, the teens had assumed that the problems of the past week were temporarily over, but now they realized that they could be wrong. The news about the pastor was mind-boggling to them. How could anyone hurt the harmless, bible-spouting, language-mangling, old preacher? The obvious answer was just too bad, too evil, to comprehend. In addition, now the sheriff was back in town. It was unprecedented for him to come to Dublin this often. Was more trouble still to come?

Even Otto came over and got into the conversation. None of the teens could remember Otto ever saying more than two sentences to any of them, but now he pulled up a chair and listened intently, throwing in comments occasionally as they talked about the situation and traded theories. They were all sure that Dublin had a problem of historic proportions, but none of them were sure what to do about it.

Then Jerry saw someone far out on the railroad tracks, heading their way at a dead run. The railroad tracks were a shortcut between town and the Moore’s burned out home, so he knew instantly who it was. “Look, there on the tracks – its Ray! He’s running! Something’s wrong!” Leaving the long-melted ice cream on the table, he headed out the door at a run, the others right behind him. Even Otto left the store and, walking as fast as his immense girth would allow, followed them toward the tracks where Ray was rapidly closing the distance.

Ray was so winded when they converged that he just stood there and wheezed for a moment. Then he got out, “The sheriff was at the ranch! My old shirt - - - - -.” His voice trailed off as he ran out of air again and wheezed for another minute. Everyone stood silently, glancing quizzically at one another as they waited for Ray to recover.

Finally Ray stood to his full height, took a deep breath and started over, “The sheriff drove out to the place after you guys left. I hid by the feed shed and watched him. He took a red gasoline can and my old blue shirt out of his car and then he took a bunch of pictures of them. When he finished with the pictures, he put the can in his trunk and then took the shirt and dropped it into a white paper bag. It was the blue shirt that I loaned to Jerry to go to Big River!” At that proclamation, everyone started talking at once. Otto held up his hand and firmly said, “Shut up!” When the tumult quieted, he turned to Ray. “Continue”.

Ray took another deep breath. “When he got the shirt in the bag, he went back to his car. I could see him write something on the bag. Then he started his car and left. As soon as he was out of sight, I headed here. I figured that maybe you guys could make sense of this. What the heck is he doing with the can and that stupid old shirt?”

The question hung there as they all thought about it. Jerry broke the silence. “I really don’t know.” “Me either,” came from Otto. Then Dawn remembered, “I saw him take that shirt and can out of Jerry’s house after he beat Jerry up the other day. But what good does it do him to be out there, taking pictures of it?” The group pondered this as they walked slowly back to Otto’s store. Then Little Red popped up with a thought. “I read a book once where the police put evidence in a bag like the one you described. Could that be the way they really store their evidence?” The group stopped cold, staring at the little redhead. Dawn heard Jerry whisper under his breath, “Holy Shit!” Then everyone started talking excitedly. Otto didn’t stop them this time. He listened quietly for a moment before walking into the store as a customer arrived.

CHAPTER TEN:

The Prisoner

T
he excited conversation between the teenagers went on for some time. Then Dawn said to Jerry, “By the way, while you were gone, the sheriff went by. He’s is up at Ike’s place now. He must’ve been coming from Ray’s when he went by us.” This caused Jerry to go quiet, thinking about the situation. “I wish there was some way to know what they’re up to now,” he said. Then Red chimed in with a thought. “We could go up and watch them from the hill above Ike’s place. It’s all brushy and they wouldn’t see us if we’re careful.” Ray picked up on the idea. “We could drive up Camel’s Hump Road and then hike across to the hill. The woods are thick and no one would ever see us there. Maybe we could see what they’re doing. If we’re lucky, we might even hear them.” But Dawn, the cautious one in the group, was aghast at the idea. “Wait a minute! This is crazy! You’ve all seen what these guys are capable of doing. Can you imagine what would happen if they spotted you?” She glared at all of them, reserving her fiercest stare of all for Jerry, who had gone noticeably silent.

Jerry thought for a minute, “We can’t all go. That would make too much noise and we’d be sure to be caught. Ray and I are the fastest runners in the group, so we’ll go see what we can see. We’ll meet back here in two hours and let you know what happened. Is that O.K. with you guys?” Dawn started to object again immediately, but Jerry stopped her with a finger over her lips. “Sorry Dawn. But we have to try to figure this out. It seems like those two have declared war on Dublin. We can’t fight back if we don’t know what we’re fighting. I promise we’ll be careful. See you back here in a couple of hours.” With that he turned and, with Ray silently following, walked to his car and got in.

Dawn and the boys watched until the car was out of sight. Then they quietly went back to the soda fountain.

Jerry and Ray were quiet for a moment. Then Ray spoke up, “Do you have any binoculars at your house?” “Yeah, good thinking.” He turned the car onto a side street and headed for his house. When there, he left the car running and went inside. In a moment he emerged with two sets of binoculars. “I don’t think Dad will mind if we borrow his set. They’re better than mine.” With that, they were off.

The drive was short. It was only about five miles to a point on Camel’s Hump Road that was a bit above and past the hollow where Ike’s sheep ranch was located. Carefully, Jerry pulled the car off the road, hiding it behind a little grove of trees. Leaving it there, the two boys crossed the road and began the southerly hike to the hill where they planned to set up their surveillance post. It was over a mile to the spot and they were slowed by the need to move quietly without leaving a trail. But soon they were lying on their bellies, sighting in the binoculars on the front porch of the small ranch house below them.

They immediately spotted the two men. They were setting on the porch steps, with a half-gallon bottle of port wine between them. They were even closer than the boys had thought they would be and sporadic bits of conversation could be understood, drifting up to them on the breeze. The hill below them was very steep, almost a cliff. Their hiding place was about a hundred feet above, but only about twenty feet to the North of the dusty front yard of the ranch house The men were so close that Jerry pulled back a bit and looked around. There was a slight hillock covered with brush just to their right. Jerry tugged at Ray’s pants leg and motioned for him to follow. Ray nodded and the two boys moved to where they were better protected behind the brush-covered mound of dirt. Both of them then found spots where they could watch the men below through small openings in the brush. They settled in to see what they could. By now, they were both feeling a bit foolish and guilty about spying on people, but they decided to stay a bit and see if there was anything worth the effort in this.