by Lara Lacombe
That was the struggle for which Wyoming Game and Fish had been created. Back in the 1880s, Wyoming’s streams had become sterile of edible fish. So fisheries were their first step. Then in 1921 Game and Fish had been created and in 1929 had been given the power to limit the harvesting of game and fish both. Since then healthy populations had rebounded, but it was a never-ending battle.
Desi Jenks was right: they couldn’t afford this poaching. Not of bighorns. Some other populations were large enough to withstand some of it, like antelope, but the bighorn? There was a reason they’d permitted only twenty-two to be harvested this year in her area, and that was a larger number than in some areas that were being poached.
“No clues, I suppose?” he finally asked as he scanned her photos of the scene.
“I wish. I pulled another bullet but you know they’re useless without a gun to match them to. Standard round for a thirty-thirty hunting rifle, and you wouldn’t want too big a hole in your sheepskin rug.”
“The skinning was expert,” he remarked. “The decap appears to have been done by some kind of butcher’s saw.” He sat back. “They didn’t want to damage the skin or head. To hell with the rest.”
She nodded and picked up her own coffee, leaning back in her chair. “Experienced.”
“Yeah.” He tried to ignore the loveliness of the woman who sat across from him, just a normal male response that should be ignored, focusing instead on what this piece added to the puzzle. Not much, he decided. It was more of the same.
“What about you?” she asked.
“I’m going into competition with them. See if I can draw them out by threatening their cash stream.”
She frowned. “That could be dangerous.”
“It could, but we’re getting nowhere otherwise. They pop up under different names every season. New phone number every week, then no phone number once they’ve got enough customers. All payments made by cash. Absolutely nothing we’ve been able to trace, including their internet postings. In fact, all that stuff has started diminishing and we suspect they’re getting most of their business by word-of-mouth now. And you know darn well that with only limited bighorn ram permits, they’re not in the market for a permit. They couldn’t promise anyone that they’d get one at the drawing. Same for other big game.”
“And it’s all going out of state?”
“Of course it is. First off, a resident permit isn’t that expensive, even if it’s hard to get one for big game through the drawing. Nonresident permits run in the thousands. Then you’ve got the problem of where you’re going to display that trophy. Desi, you know people around here. How many of them wouldn’t mention the sudden appearance of a trophy head to you?”
She smiled faintly. “A few. There are a few everywhere. But someone, eventually, would run it by me. I have pretty good contacts around here, and despite what some people may think, most of the ranchers have a great respect for the land and the wildlife.”
“Unless it’s wolves,” he said.
She laughed. “Unless it’s wolves,” she agreed. “Unfortunately.”
“I hear you got some here?”
“A pack of maybe seven up on Thunder Mountain. So far there’s been a détente going on, but today...” She shook her head. “Fresh kill on Jake’s ranch. He’ll mend his fence as soon as he finds out where it was damaged, probably by the bighorn on the run...but then he’s got to keep an eye out. Right now his place may be looking like a wolf smorgasbord.”
“I could go out and give him a hand.”
She arched her brows at him. “What was that about undercover?”
“I’ll go out as an outfitter trying to get the lay of the land. I’ll just say I thought I could lend a hand while I learn the area.”
She shook her head, and he realized he wasn’t going to run this show singlehandedly. Oh, well. She knew the area and he had only one purpose: to gather intelligence on a ring of poachers. She spoke. “Jake’s the chief of police. I told you. He’s not stupid. That’ll smell and he won’t like it. One word of advice to you, Kel. Tell Jake what you’re really doing. He might be helpful and he sure knows how to keep a secret.” She paused. “He also knows Thunder Mountain as well as I do.”
“I’ll think about it.”
But then she questioned him again. “Isn’t it a little late to start your masquerade? The season’s already underway for a week now.”
“I’m not doing this solo.” He saw her stiffen, and guessed she was wondering if she was going to be totally shoved to the side in this operation. He hastened to reassure her. “I’m solo out here,” he offered quickly. “But the unit has been making postings for me on the web and social media since late last spring. In the meantime, once the snow was gone, I’ve been hiking all over the terrain to familiarize myself. Anyway, word about me has been out there, just not where I was going to set myself up. A few shills have already indicated their interest in a hunt publicly, so once I surface, I’ll appear to have business already.”
She nodded, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the desk. “What about others who call?”
He half smiled. “Well, now that’s interesting. We sound them out, mentioning they have to have their own license because they can’t hunt under mine, and they usually bail pretty quickly. Then we try like hell to find out where they go next. We’re coordinating with other states, but so far none of these calls have been productive. Apparently, the mere question about licensing makes them too cautious to continue. Two birds, one stone.”
She clearly appreciated that. “But some won’t care if it’s illegal.”
He nodded. “Of course not. But if they’re calling me, they obviously don’t know about this ring yet. If we find that they’ve contacted someone else, we can probably persuade the hunter to deal with us rather than face charges. But the ring is getting hard to find unless you have some kind of contact. Plus, we need evidence for court. Hearsay ain’t gonna do it.”
He stood. “Now, don’t you have a carcass to get out of your truck?” From the photos she’d showed him, he’d guess there were well over a hundred pounds left of a nearly three-hundred-pound sheep.
“Yeah. Help appreciated. I’ll roll around back to the freezer building.”
*
Behind the front offices in a steel building about fifty yards away were a series of chest freezers, all of them with serious padlocks. In them they kept evidence until a case was completed, whether dressed meat or an entire carcass. Desi tagged the bighorn in its plastic wrapping, then Kel helped her lift it into the building and put it in an empty freezer. Desi slapped a note on top of it, making it clear this meat was unsafe to eat. From time to time during the year, the wardens donated any good meat they no longer needed as evidence to a soup kitchen, or a church or even to individuals living on the edge who could use it well.
Not everything was wasted, Desi thought with satisfaction as she locked up the freezer shed. Not nearly.
“I guess we shouldn’t hang much,” Desi remarked as they walked back to the station. For some reason that disappointed her. She wanted to be part of his operation, was thirsty for it, but she was also kind of thirsty for the man himself. No good. “You being undercover and all.”
“Hey, wouldn’t I cozy up to the local wardens? Try to seem innocuous?”
“Brown nose?” She looked at him and laughed. “I’m not very susceptible, Kel.”
“Didn’t think you were,” he answered in good humor, “but that’s what people can think and I’ll hurry that notion along when I can.”
She stepped inside and faced him. “Why?”
He grew instantly serious. “Because I’m going to need your help, Warden. I can’t possibly do this alone. So I cozy up to you, make it look like I’m trying to get on your good side, maybe romance you a bit, and no one will even guess what I’m really here to do.”
She felt an unexpected sense of displeasure that he could so casually offer to romance her as part of his cover. Shaking her head at he
rself, she quashed the feeling. “Just don’t take it too far,” she said. “I’m not known for dating around here.”
He nodded, accepting the warning. Sometimes, things happened at exactly the wrong time. Well, this was wrong for more reasons than timing. She couldn’t let herself want this guy. That kind of stuff could only get in the way.
But she felt a little slammed by her reaction. Not in years had she reacted so strongly to a guy just because of how he looked. Right now she didn’t know anything about Kel, so who needed this reaction? He might turn out to be a jackass.
She could have laughed at herself if this situation weren’t in danger of affecting her peace of mind. But there was one good thing she could say about it: instant sexual attraction had taken her mind off that bighorn.
But now she needed to come back to earth and set about reporting the kill. While Kel got himself some coffee, she pulled her notebook out of the pocket in her vest and flipped it open. Her sample case was still in the truck, and she’d have to package that up in a cooler to send to forensics.
In the meanwhile...paperwork. On the computer.
As she called up the forms, Kel spoke again.
“Desi? You take this all very personally, don’t you?”
She looked at him, wondering if that was a compliment or an insult. It could be either. After all, he was a man.
He sat across from her. “Good for you for taking it personally. Some get so used to it they forget. But the word warden has an honorable history. It means protector, caretaker, guardian.”
She felt a crooked smile forming on her face. “I got the same training you did, Kel.”
At that he laughed. “Of course you knew that. I’m just trying to say, I’m glad you take this stuff personally. I’ve met a few who don’t. Just another job to them. They don’t do it very well.”
She guessed it must have been written all over her face how she was taking it when she pulled in. She didn’t remember having said much about it except the basic facts.
Her phone rang and she reached for it. “Hey, Lex, what’s up?” She listened. “I’m on my way.”
When she hung up, she rose. “I’m outta here, and I guess you should leave, too, to preserve your cover.”
“What’s up?”
“An antelope didn’t quite make it over a barbed wire fence. I guess this day’s going to end on a really sour note.”
*
Kel stood in the parking lot and watched her get into her truck. Cute bottom, he thought, then yanked his mind back into line. No messing with a colleague, he reminded himself.
He had plenty to do anyway. He already knew the terrain around here, although he hadn’t introduced himself to Desi before. He’d spent all summer hiking around those mountains until he could talk about them like he knew them intimately. He’d studied the migratory maps, as well, and figured that if he ever needed to he could lead someone to a good hunting spot for big game.
But those were the routes he had to keep an eye on if he was going to pretend to be a guide, and more important, catch anyone in the act. So it wouldn’t seem at all strange for him to be hiking around.
But he was going to seriously annoy any illegal outfitters. He’d known that when he volunteered, but he was no stranger to threats. In the meantime, while he waited for his hook to set itself, he could do plenty of hiking in those mountains.
He was looking forward to that. He just kind of wished he could do it under better circumstances, and maybe with Desi. She probably mapped a lot of those migrations, probably counted the herds assiduously and judged their health.
It was by going up into those mountains that she’d found most of the trophy kills she had reported. She’d make a great right-hand man if they could work it out.
In the meantime, he knew those bighorn were unlikely to come down to below five thousand feet at this time of year. Most would probably be up closer to eight thousand. So what the hell was that sheep doing on a ranch?
*
Driving the ten miles to Alex Thornton’s place, Desi prepared for the worst and tried not to think about Kel Westin. Her immediate female reaction to him almost soured her. She’d put that aside when she’d decided to live without men and there was no place for it on the job.
She was also worried about this plan of his. They clearly had an active poaching operation in this area. The better the herds thrived, the more big game she found had been killed for trophies. Apparently, her mapped migration corridors were providing plenty of opportunities for the poachers. Enough to sicken her.
At the same time, she understood hunting. She had no problem with the people who wanted meat to get them through the winter. If they were hunting for food, fine. Some culling of the herds was necessary, hence the harvest limits the service worked up every year.
If she hadn’t been dealing with these issues for years, she’d have been overwhelmed by the system.
Now there was Kel, a big question mark. His credentials were valid, but this whole idea sounded dangerous to her. Men who were willing to risk huge fines, forfeiting their guns and their right to hunt, all to make a little money by taking a trophy? And now such a crime was a felony, so prison, not just a slap on the wrist and a fine. Men like that might be willing to kill anyone who appeared to get in the way of their money stream.
She just had to trust WIU knew what they were doing. She couldn’t deny that putting a halt to this trophy hunting was a good thing. And sure as she was sitting here in her truck, she was willing to bet no one showed up in the next thirteen days with horns attached to the skull plate of that sheep. Or even just the horns. Nope. Not when they’d left everything behind but the skin.
Lex Thornton was waiting for her in a turnout beside his fence line along the county road. As she pulled up, she could see he’d cut the top of the barbed wire. Maybe a hundred feet away, an antelope hunkered down.
“Got her loose, Desi,” Lex said as she climbed out of her truck. “Think her hind leg is broken from fighting against the wire. Cut all the way to the bone, she is.”
This was the worst part of the job for Desi. She never got used to it. She pulled out her rifle and loaded a few bullets. Alex didn’t say another thing, just swung open a ramshackle gate and let her through.
He was probably right about the broken leg, or that antelope wouldn’t still be here.
When they got closer, she could see the mess of the antelope’s back leg.
“They usually get over,” Lex said.
“I know. How many dozens have we had to chase off your grazing land?”
“A few. Elk, too.”
The antelope tried to pull itself through the grass as they approached. Then it shoved itself up on three legs, no weight on the fourth. It didn’t get very far before collapsing again.
“She’s worn out,” Desi said. God, she hated this. That animal could not survive, however, and leaving it to suffer was the worst option. It had to be in pain and terrified, and as it became weaker and less able to move, it might be tormented by hawks and other predators. No.
So she raised her rifle and did what was necessary.
She turned to Lex, keeping her expression businesslike. Knowing it had been necessary didn’t make it easy, though. “You want the meat?”
“Always.”
She nodded. “I’ll fill out the forms and give you what you need.”
Lex stood looking at the antelope for a few seconds. “Damn shame,” he said finally, then turned to follow her back to her truck. “Thanks for coming so fast, Desi. I have no idea how long she’d been stuck in that wire, but when I cut her loose...well, it was too long I guess.”
After Desi filled out the paperwork and gave him the slip that granted him legal ownership of the meat, she headed back toward town, thinking that some days being a warden was absolutely no fun at all. Days like today, it sometimes got hard to remember why she’d wanted to do this job.
But there were much better days, she reminded herself. Lots of them. And
now there was Kel Westin who, one way or another, was going to provide a change of pace. They needed to talk more, she decided. Somehow they were going to have to coordinate. And he had said he’d need her assistance.
Ah, cut it out. Her thoughts were running along the lines of a smitten kid. By now she should have outgrown it. But the simple fact was, it was easier to think about Kel than about the rest of her day. Maybe too easy.
Copyright © 2017 by Susan Civil Brown
ISBN-13: 9781488016240
Dr. Do-or-Die
Copyright © 2017 by Lara Kingeter
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