by JT Sawyer
Mitch stepped between the two and knelt down near Nieman’s boots. His eyebrows scrunched up as he pointed to the tread pattern. “These are the exact same prints I saw at another bear kill not far from here. That micro-tear in the rear heel even showed up in the mud.” Mitch pointed over his shoulder. “This evidence and your bike’s tread pattern will certainly match up with the other crime scene.”
“And that is solid evidence that will hold up in court, Lloyd Nieman,” said Dana. “Still want to claim you were just out for a ride?”
“And this slackjawed turd here,” said Marco, brandishing the .300 Winmag towards Tung’s face, “his rifle and the ballistics from the bear carcass have just sealed his fate.”
“Now what?” said Mitch, who was craning his head around at the ground, which was disturbed in every direction as a result of their assorted melees. He canted his head up to the trees, where a handful of ravens had gathered to observe the bear carcass.
“Our vehicles are that way,” said Dana with a flick of her finger. “Let’s hike out of here and get these two guys to Ketchum. It’ll be sundown by the time we return so I’ll have to come back tomorrow with some fieldworkers and record everything that happened here.”
She glanced at Mitch, noting his soiled clothes and soot-stained face. “Maybe you can point out that other bear kill on the topo map to the sergeant major so I can follow up on that location afterwards.”
Mitch nodded, wiping a sleeve across his sweaty forehead. “More than happy to help, ma’am.” He noticed Waline giving the woman sideways glances and wondered what he’d missed back at basecamp.
Chapter 18
An hour later, after they had walked the two injured poachers back to the vehicles, Dana radioed dispatch in Ketchum about the capture of the men and requested a wildlife forensics unit out of Idaho Falls. They would head down with her to the spring the next day to catalog all the evidence before coyotes altered the scene. Once she had secured the prisoners in her back seat, she drove off, with Waline following in his own rig accompanied by his two weary soldiers.
As the truck bobbed along the rutted dirt road, Mitch looked over at the sergeant major, who was staring intently at the game warden’s vehicle in front of them.
“So, Miller seems like she can handle herself,” said Mitch. “I mean, being a lone game warden out here can’t be easy, especially for a woman.”
Waline didn’t break his forward stare. “Copy that.”
“Too bad you’re already married, Mitch,” said Marco with a slight grin.
“I’m not interested,” said Mitch. “I merely find someone in her line of work intriguing. She’s probably got a lot of stories to tell, especially about tracking wildlife.”
“Maybe I’ll go look her up when this course is over,” said Marco. “How many real men can there be in Ketchum, Idaho anyways.”
Waline rolled his window down and spit some chew over the edge. “You really think Dana took notice of you two apes other than your B.O.?”
Marco elbowed Mitch while smirking, both men giving each other knowing glances as they silently acknowledged Waline’s interest in the woman.
Then Marco’s face hardened and he gave a smug nod to Mitch. “I think that game warden’s been up in these hills too long and could use an honest-to-God red-blooded American fella to take her out to dinner.”
The truck came to a screeching halt. Waline abruptly put the gear into park while leaning back in his seat with a long exhale. “You got that right, son.”
He gave Marco a sideways glare then removed some more chewing tobacco from a tin in his pocket, forcefully stuffing the dip down between his lip and gums. “And I will make sure that Ms. Miller gets all the trimmings with her dinner in the company of this southern gentleman.”
Waline nodded to the side door next to Mitch. “Now you two need to get your sorry asses back to your shelters because there’s still one more day to complete now that you boys are done playin’ sheriff.”
He nodded again, his intense eyes widening. “Go on, git—it’s only about four miles cross-country from here.”
Marco gave him a wide-eyed look. “But I thought we’d need to make a formal statement on what we saw with those criminals? This has gone from a survival course to an anti-poaching operation so I figured we’d be needed back at basecamp.”
“Well, shit, Rigby. I’m feeling like maybe you could both use two more days instead of the one I’m graciously offering. Is that what I’m hearing?”
“Not at all, Sergeant Major,” replied Mitch as he quickly opened the creaky door and exited. Then he turned and grabbed Marco by his jacket sleeve.
Marco bit his lower lip and shook his head then slid out the passenger’s side, slamming the door.
“I’ll radio you tomorrow morning at 0800 with final instructions on where to meet everyone,” said Waline. “You two Boy Scouts have a good night.” A rare smile crept out from the corner of his mouth. “I know I will.” After cranking up the engine, he sped off down the road towards Miller’s vehicle.
Mitch folded his arms across his chest and scowled at Marco. “Nice going. You’re always letting your little head do the thinking instead of the big one. Women are forever your undoing—no matter where the hell we are.”
Marco had already pulled out his map and compass and was surveying the surrounding terrain. “Shut up. That geriatric old bastard just needed to remove this alpha male from the equation so he might have a better shot at gettin’ some tonight,” he said with a pat on his chest.
“Damn, bro, it’s too bad for the women of this world that there’s only one of you. I mean, it’s just not fair to them.”
Marco smiled, his white teeth highlighted by the black stubble on his face. “Fair assessment—or are you bein’ sarcastic again.”
“Not at all,” Mitch said with a smirk. “Now let’s get back to camp before nightfall. I still got traps to check.”
Marco looked up from his map and pointed with an outstretched hand towards a distant hillside. “That way.”
As the two men walked, the sound of rain began clattering off the pine boughs as the slate gray clouds above thickened. A few minutes later, Marco reached into his pocket and removed a white cylinder, handing it to Mitch.
“You’re a good friend. I can’t keep this from you any longer,” said Marco.
Mitch stopped moving and stood transfixed at the sight of his cigar. Then his forehead wrinkled as he narrowed his eyes at Marco.
“Found it on the beach that first day when we bailed from the helo.”
“And you’ve had it all this time, you son of a bitch?” grumbled Mitch.
“Thought of smoking it on my solo then figured I might need it to barter with you for some raccoon meat or something so I held off on mentioning it when we first met up.”
Mitch unscrewed the sealed aluminum lid and removed the fat cigar, pressing it up against his nose and inhaling. His eyes rolled back at the pleasing aroma and his lips pulled back as if he had just taken a hearty drag on it. He reached for a lighter in his pocket but then remembered with disdain that he’d had all his firemaking implements taken from him.
“You gonna get a bow drill fire going, cowboy?” Marco said with a laugh, then extended his lighter out to Mitch.
“Where would we be without fire?” Mitch said as he ignited the end of the cigar and lustily inhaled the delightful smoke.
“Savage, bro—we’d all be filthy savages.”
Mitch removed the cigar from his lips and exhaled, his face taut with pleasure. “Even with fire, you’re still one, you big gorilla.”
Marco shook his head. “A savage would’ve kept that cigar for himself and not given it back to its rightful owner.”
“Bullshit, you just want me to catch dinner on the way back.” Mitch slapped his friend on the back and motioned for them to keep walking.
“Not a bad idea,” said Marco with a grin.
Mitch handed the cigar over to Marco, who raised his ey
ebrows at the surprising gesture.
“Thanks, bro, I didn’t think you’d be sharing.” Marco took a long drag and then coughed out some smoke.
Mitch laughed. “Tastes kinda moldy. Must be some water got inside the tube.”
Marco took another drag. “Don’t matter to me. Still a pleasure after what we’ve been through this week.”
Mitch took the cigar back and grinned. “I hear ya, buddy.”
Afterword
While the characters of Tung and Nieman are fictitious, the poaching of black bears for their gallbladders in the U.S. and Canada is a real threat. The National Parks and federal lands in North America see a significant number of bear poaching cases each year that are connected with the black market trade and traditional medicine commerce in Asia. Much of the research on this subject came from speaking with wildlife managers, federal law-enforcement agents, and bear biologists who had their fill of real-world stories connected with this seldom-heard but illicit industry and whose help I am grateful for.
Join Mitch and Dev in Book 6, Borderlands. Now available for pre-order on Amazon.
Thank you for reading this book. Join JT Sawyer’s Facebook page to follow his research, travels, and updates. If you would like to receive information on future book releases, please sign up for my email notices by visiting http://www.jtsawyer.com
Additional Titles by JT Sawyer
First Wave
The Longest Day
No Place to Hide
Hell Week
Until Morning Comes, Volumes 1-5
Non-Fiction Survival Books by Tony Nester (aka JT Sawyer):
Survival Gear You Can Live With
Bug-Out Gear for Travelers
A Vehicle Survival Kit You Can Live With
When the Grid Goes Down: Disaster Gear and Survival Preparations for Making Your Home Self-Reliant
The Modern Hunter-Gatherer: A Practical Guide to Living Off the Land
Bushcraft Tips & Tools
Life Under Open Skies: Adventures in Bushcraft
