by Alan S Evans
“You have to do something about this!” Tigee sputtered.
“Sir, this is an awful thing someone did,” the sheriff said, “but there’s nothing I can do. This was probably just some poachers that happened upon the horses.”
“No!” Tara insisted. “My brothers backtracked the horses and can prove that this was an organized effort to kill the whole herd. It was definitely not a chance encounter.”
“You can’t prove that, miss,” the sheriff said. “How about you boys?” He pointed to the reservation police. “Do you see anything that makes you think it was more than a random incident?”
“No, sir,” one of the Indian officers answered, “These were probably just some kill-happy hunters who would have shot at anything.”
Shane had heard enough. “I’ve seen the tracks of the shod horses and dogs that were chasing the herd. I’m telling you, if you go down this trail and look beyond your own noses, you’ll see this was a large group of men who obviously came out here for one reason. They were well prepared and knew what they were after. If it hadn’t been for some bad luck, when the main part of the herd split off, they would have killed a lot more horses.”
“Mr. Carson,” the sheriff said, giving Shane a pissed-off look, “the last thing I need is for you to be causing trouble by putting bad ideas into these people’s heads. Just what the hell are you doing out here anyway?”
“No one is putting ideas into our heads. We are perfectly capable of thinking for ourselves!” Tigee responded angrily. “He is here because I asked him to come. I figured you wouldn’t listen to us, but I hoped Shane could convince you to help.”
“I’m going to tell you one more time,” the sheriff said. “It doesn’t make any sense for someone to have an organized hunt for these mustangs. If they were going to go to all that trouble, they would have taken the meat to the killer market. This was just some punk kids who happened to come across these mares. Now, if you have any more trouble out here, you let me know, and I’ll help your reservation police try to catch these guys. Until then I can’t waste
valuable time chasing phantoms for a crime that doesn’t have a motive. Now these dead horses are beginning to smell real bad, so I’m going home!”
Tara, looked over at the two native policemen and sneered sarcastically, “You guys sure were a lot of help!”
“I don’t see any reason to think differently than the sheriff,” one of them said. “I really think this is just a one-time thing. We’ll come out next week on horseback and look around, but I really don’t think you’ll see these hunters again.” After saying this, the two officers started hiking to their truck.
Listening to all this talk about no motive made Shane want to speak up about the oil, but this was still an unproven theory, which would only fan the flames of potential trouble. Shane noticed a figure moving up beside him. He was startled by Hawk, who appeared out of nowhere and was now standing next to him. Then just as quietly, Tara’s brothers and JB emerged.
“We can’t expect any help from the law,” Tigee said.
“We know, we heard,” replied Hawk.
“You knew those assholes were useless,” JB added.
The old shaman then took charge. “I want at least two of you out here at all times. We’ll figure out a schedule later. Ivan and Willie, you stay here the first couple of days. Use your long-range radios to stay in touch with me at the ranch. You men need to keep your horses quiet and stay out of sight. Watch your tracks, stay off the main trails, and no fires except late at night. We need to keep the herd safe until we figure out a way to handle this. If the shooters show up, try to spoil their attempt without them even knowing you’re here. This way we can avoid any unnecessary violence. If you find yourselves in a situation where you need to protect yourself, you do whatever you have to do.”
The four Indians nodded and slipped back into the trees, blending in and soon disappearing into the foliage and shadows.
Shane knew that if Nethers had pulled permits for oil exploration in the area, sooner or later, the test crews would show up. Once he knew they were here, he would have to catch them testing on reservation land. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he would need the Shoshone’s help. The area bordering the Indians’ valley and Nethers’s land was vast and rough. It would take the Shoshone’s intricate knowledge of this terrain, along with their amazing tracking skills, to come up with the proof Shane was after.
Hopefully, when the time came, Tigee would be able to give him a trustworthy guide who would not stir up trouble. Shane understood the tensions the Indians were feeling. They were ready to fight for their sacred horses that were such a valued part of their heritage. If his suspicions fell into the wrong hands, someone could get hurt or even killed, and Shane didn’t want that on his conscience. His intuition told him the shooters would lie low for a few days. After all, it would be stupid to try this again too soon. They would more likely let things cool down before putting together another large-scale hunt. Hopefully, this would give Shane time to figure out what to do next.
Shane overslept the next morning and had to rush to get to the barn at eight. Tommy had already fed and turned the horses out of their stalls for the day. It was a cloudy, windy morning and all the horses were a little frisky because of the threatening storms. By now Tommy was doing most of the hands-on training with the roan gelding, so Shane usually just gave the boy instructions while he sat on the fence. With Shane’s help, the roan was trying harder every day to please the kid.
Shane told Tommy, “We’ve got the basic steering and buttons on him now, so you should have enough control to stay out of trouble on the trails. I’ll ride along this morning to make sure you’re okay with him.” Shane quickly saddled Sloppy. She hadn’t been ridden for a few days so the exercise would be good for her.
An hour later the two were back at the ranch, and Shane was pleased with the session.
“Don’t expect too much too soon. It’ll take a lot of time and miles to really get him broke. Now, let’s get out your mare and see how she’s feeling today.” Shane’s mind was not entirely on working with the horses. As soon as he finished with Tommy, he planned to get in touch with Mr. Jensen and try to come up with a plan to investigate their theory.
Shane spent an hour working with the mare. She was coming along slow but sure. The more he worked with this one, the more he realized how potentially dangerous she could be. So, he advised Tommy, “I’ll do all the work with this mare until we get her further along. I want you to promise me that you won’t try to work with her on your own.”
“Yes, sir, I promise.”
“Now, go put her away, and saddle up the last horse. I’ll get you going with him, and then I have to leave.”
Tommy was already complaining about beginning school in a few weeks. Once it started, Shane would have to help him with the horses in the afternoon. He told Tommy he needed to try his best in school, and he would only help him if he kept his grades up. This reminded him of his son, Jacob, who would much rather stay home and help him at the barn than be in class. “Horse training is a business,” he would tell Jacob. “To succeed in any business, you must be educated. The people who make it in this world, whether working with rockets or horses, are the ones who tried their hardest in school.” Shane felt a little melancholy as he told Tommy the same thing.
After getting Tommy started with his last horse, Shane headed straight for his truck. The two wolves were lying on the porch after their morning’s hunt. They both perked up and watched as Shane drove out of the compound gate. His original plan was to go to the pay phone and call Mr. Jensen, but then he decided to drive over to the farm so he could talk to him in person. His growing concerns about the mustangs had him hoping they were wrong about the oil. One way or another, he needed to find out for sure.
When he pulled into the farm, Mr. Jensen’s truck was not there. Mrs. Jensen was excited to see Shane. She invited him in and, as usual, offered to fix him something t
o eat.
“No thank you, ma’am. Do you know when your husband will be home?”
“He should be back anytime. I don’t know what you guys are up to, but he sure wanted to talk to you. When I asked him what was going on, he said he would tell me about it later, so I left it alone. He’ll be glad you’re here though. He mentioned he might drive out to the reservation this afternoon to see you. This will save him the trip.”
Mrs. Jensen was in a talkative mood, so Shane sat and listened. “That Indian friend of yours is an interesting character. He told me his family had lived on that land for hundreds of years.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ve never seen people who were so connected to the land and their heritage. I think if they had a choice, they would turn back the hands of time and live off the land the way their ancestors did.”
She smiled and nodded her head. “It is refreshing to see people whose priorities aren’t so wrapped up around progress and the almighty dollar. You have to admire that.”
“Yes, I do,” Shane answered. “Before I came out here, I didn’t know the Wind River Basin existed. I have to admit, the awesome beauty of this country and its history have affected me in a big way. I just hope they can continue to hold on to all that wilderness and keep it from ever changing.”
Mrs. Jensen agreed and switched the subject. “That Tara sure is a pretty girl. Where did she get those blue eyes?”
“She told me her great-great-great-grandmother was white. One of her brothers has the same blue eyes, but believe me, everything else about their family is definitely Shoshone.”
“You know, Shane, I think she may have an eye for you.”
Shane became a little embarrassed at hearing this. “I think your imagination is getting the best of you, ma’am. I don’t know what she would see in me.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I remember a lot of ladies at your clinics being pretty smitten!”
Shane was trying to figure a way out of this conversation without being disrespectful to the nice old lady. Just then Mr. Jensen walked in remarking, “Woman, why do you always try to play the matchmaker? Shane’s a grown man. He doesn’t need you meddling in his personal affairs.” Mrs. Jensen just laughed and walked into the kitchen.
Chapter 16
Mr. Jensen hung his hat on the coatrack, “It started out stormy this morning, but it seems to be clearing. I’m glad you’re here, I was planning on coming to see you today.”
“That’s what your wife said. Before you go on, let me tell you what’s happened in the valley.” Shane told him about the shooting of the horses and the tension building with the Indians. “I’ve kept quiet about our suspicions. Telling them now about our theory, would be like pouring fuel on a hot fire.”
“Well, son, I haven’t seen any strangers around town. No oil company trucks or crews, either. I was beginning to think we were wrong, then I decided to drive out to the old mountainside motel just outside of town. There’s a little coffee shop there, so I went in and sat down. This was about seven o’clock Saturday morning. The restaurant was pretty busy with their breakfast crowd so it was easy for me to blend in. From where I sat, I had a good view of the motel, and I was surprised to see Vince Nethers drive into the parking lot, then go up to one of the rooms. He had his son with him. A few minutes later, I saw two Indians show up and go to the same room. They knocked on the door and went inside.”
“Indians? Were they Shoshone?”
“I don’t think so. They were driving a pickup with one of those magnets on the side that people use for advertising. The sign read Hunter Guide Services, Arapaho, Wyoming. That town is located on the southeast part of the reservation. From what I hear, those two tribes get along fine these days, but they still live within their own communities. I don’t think there are many Shoshones living there.
“The group stayed in the room for quite some time. When they did finally come out, there were three more white men with them. I guess these guys were already there waiting for Nethers and the rest to arrive.
“Those three men came out last. I watched as they walked behind the building and disappeared for a minute. Then I saw them drive back around in a pickup truck. The truck had a sign that read In-Core Oil Corp.
“Now, it sure looks to me like Vince Nethers is going out of his way to keep a low profile—especially if all he’s trying to do is look for oil on his own land. And an even bigger question is why is he talking to an Arapaho guide service?”
“I don’t know,” Shane said. “It’s looking more like we might be right. But, we still need some proof before I stir up a whole lot of trouble by telling the Shoshone. If I could see them actually testing on reservation land, then we could be sure.”
“Well,” Mr. Jensen said, “you’ve got the best guides in the world living around you. Are there any Shoshone you can count on to keep this under their hat until you have your proof?”
Shane thought for a moment as Mrs. Jensen walked into the room with a glass of tea for her husband. “I know Tara and her grandfather are worried about someone getting hurt over all this, but the young men are just brewing for a fight. I’ll probably have to talk to Tigee. Maybe he can set me up with a guide and get me back in where I can watch the oil people.” Shane said his good-byes, and drove back to the reservation, reflecting on what he’d just learned.
Vince Nethers was a very wealthy person with strong political connections, just as Mr. Jensen had told Shane. Money and power were his driving force in life. The man built an empire through real estate and cattle deals, and had no regrets about the people he ruined along the way. If Mr. Jensen’s theory was right about oil, then this could mean there’s a lot more trouble to come.
***
Three days later a Cessna plane touched down at Vince Nethers’s private airstrip on his ranch about twenty miles north of the reservation. The Cessna taxied up the grass runway to the three-plane hangar. The doors opened, then two casually dressed men with briefcases in hand stepped down out of the plane. Both of them had the smell of hard liquor on their breath.
One of the men was Barry Russell, the CEO of a small, struggling corporation called In-Core Oil. They specialized in exploration and drilling of oil deposits all over the Midwest. The company was looking for the one great deal that could put them on the map. This was a very competitive business, and Vince knew they would be willing to push the limits of the law.
The other man was John Rasolli, a mob-connected business man from Chicago with unlimited resources. Vince needed this guy’s money to get things started. John had been very successful and currently had his hand in a number of legitimate businesses, most of which had been acquired through illegal practices. He would force a buyout of small, high potential companies at less than market value and then sell them for a large profit. If needed, he would know how to put the squeeze on the Shoshone financially and otherwise.
Vince’s son, Bo, was waiting at the hangar in his Jeep to pick up the two men. Bo greeted them with a handshake. “Mr. Russell, Mr. Rasolli, my father is waiting at the house. He is looking forward to meeting with you.” Both men nodded and climbed into the Jeep for the mile ride to the mansion.
When they arrived, a pretty young maid, wearing a short black dress, greeted them at the front door and directed them into the study. Vince was finishing up a call and he motioned for the men to have a seat. He then gestured for Bo to leave the room. Although this irritated Bo, he did as his father indicated.
“Hello, Barry, John, I have lunch waiting by the pool. I figured we’d have something to eat before we get down to business.”
“That sounds good,” Barry answered.
“Me too,” John said, “I’m starving!”
The men sat by the pool making small talk while the servants, who were all attractive young women, brought them their meal. After lunch, the conversation became serious.
“Since you asked us to fly all the way out here, I suppose you found what you were looking for,” John commented.
Vince handed Barry the results of the tests and watched his eyes light up.
“Holy shit!” Barry said. “Look at the bright spot on this readout. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen paperwork this promising.”
Barry went on to explain, “Most of the oil in this part of the country is not concentrated in large enough reservoirs to make it feasible to reach. These results are showing a big pool of viscous crude that is contained within very porous and permeable rock. This will make it fairly easy to pump out, at least in the first stages.”
“So, what’s our next move?” Rasolli asked.
“Let me take some time to explain the situation in that valley,” Nethers said. “There are two tribes that control the Wind River Valley.” Vince motioned to one of the young maids to bring out an easel with a large map of the area’s terrain. “We’ll need representatives of both tribes to sign a lease. The Arapahos have no significant ties to the area. They were moved here by the U.S. government in the late 1800s, against their will. I don’t see any real problems persuading them to sign.
