“I’m going back into the wilderness area. I’m worried about Ty.”
“It isn’t your problem anymore,” she reminded him.
“It’s everybody’s problem. Those people have to be protected. But thanks to assholes like Ron Arnold the military was pulled away. I think most sportsmen would be appalled at the thought of doing harm to any of Ty’s people. But there are types who’d like to kill one and have it stuffed.”
“That’s disgusting!”
“Of course it is. But it’s true.”
“And your going back in will accomplish what, Matt?”
“That depends entirely on whether I find any civilian in there with a gun in his hands.”
“And if you do?”
He looked at her.
She got the message.
* * *
“I get the feeling that we’re being watched,” Al said, cutting his eyes to the timber that stood tall and silent around their camp.
“You’re getting spooky,” Baxter told him. “All them half-human things is still miles from here. We haven’t even crossed the Selway yet.”
“Maybe so,” Al said. “But I still got that itchy feeling in the middle of my back.”
“Maybe you got fleas?” Russell suggested.
The men laughed and settled back to eat their supper.
In California, Matt was boarding a military plane that would take him to Idaho, where a helicopter was waiting. Simmons had already left Denver and was waiting for Matt near the edge of the Great Primitive Area.
Susan and her children had returned to the suburbs of Los Angeles with Dennis and Milli. The nation was fast settling down. But the courts were in a quandary over what to do with the hundreds of tribe-related men, women, and children that were still in lockup all around the nation. Martial law had been lifted, the troops returned to bases around the country, and full constitutional rights returned to the citizens.
Since the tribe-related men and women and kids who were confined had done nothing wrong, the Supreme Court ordered them released, and Congress passed a law forbidding their harassment and guaranteeing they would be given back their jobs. Some were released with strange smiles on their faces and a peculiar glint in their strange-colored eyes. They did not return to their homes and jobs; they vanished and sought out others like them. They had lots of planning to do before the next full moon unleashed the primitive urges within them. The blood tests were not completely accurate.
Ty listened with growing concern on his face. He had known that it would happen, he just hadn’t thought it would happen so soon.
Hunters.
“Have you spoken with the doctors?”
“Yes. And they are as concerned as we are. They are going to speak with our new guards.”
“Why do you say guards and not protectors?”
“I felt safe with the army here. These new people are nice people—for pure humans—but they do not appear to be as, well, how do I say this? Ready for a fight as the rangers, I suppose.”
“Elder,” a young man spoke, using their native tongue. It would be several more generations before the animal would be bred out of his family. “Is it not true that the government has given this land to us with the understanding that we could continue governing as before?”
Ty knew exactly what the young man was leading up to. Many of the tribe looked more animal than human, but none of them were stupid. “Say what is on your mind,” Ty told him.
“The outside laws mean nothing on these lands.”
“So?”
“Why give the hunters the chance to attack us.”
“You want to kill the men?”
“I won’t want to, Elder. But the new people who have come to guard us are not nearly enough. Not one is even in camp at this time.”
“You know that since I became the elder of this tribe there have been no unwarranted killing of those who came to hunt or fish or camp in accordance with outside laws?”
“You gave me an opening, Elder,” the young man said. “These people who approach are not in accordance with outside laws, or with the laws of this tribe. They are in violation of all law.”
“We don’t know that they’re here to do any of us harm,” Ty protested.
“Our scouts have listened to them talk. They boast of killing eagles and wolves and bears. They boast of watching an animal die slowly while they enjoy its pain. They talk about killing some of us and of preserving the carcass for trophy. How much more do you want, Elder?”
Ty sighed. All they wanted was to live in peace with the land and the animals. Those on the outside who refused to fight the urges and reverted back to the wild had caused them all much grief. Now this. Ty knew that no tribal adult was without sin—sin according to the rules of the outside world. They had killed humans—but only those who were lawless in their hunting or trapping practices or who threatened the tribe’s safety. He stood up.
“I will speak to Nick and Dan.” He found them at the doctors’ tent and told them of the scouts’ reports.
“I was afraid of something like this,” a scientist said. “We’ve got to notify the authorities.”
Nick and Dan exchanged glances, both of them knowing it would accomplish about as much as spitting into the wind. Tribal law was harsh compared to the laws on the outside, but it was damned effective. The tribe could prove conclusively that the death penalty worked in preventing crime. It was simply a matter of getting it done while the crime was still fresh in the minds of the innocents.
Neither of them voiced his thoughts while the doctors and scientists were present, not wanting them to run babbling hysterically to the few federal officers on the reservation. When the doctors had left, Dan said, “We’ll take care of this, Ty.”
“No!” Ty said sharply.
The men looked at him.
“No more killing. I have spoken. Let us live in peace with all things—whether or not all things want peace with us.”
“Noble thoughts, Ty,” Nick said. “But it doesn’t work on the outside. Most folks on the outside don’t give a damn what happens to animals. And you and your people are in that classification. Damn few of them on the outside are goin’ to give a shit what happens to the tribe. Especially after all the killin’ that’s gone on.”
“But we had nothing to do with that!”
“Most won’t take that into consideration. Folks on the outside will spend ten billion dollars a year to see games while stepping over a hungry, homeless person getting to the stadium.”
“No!”
“He’s telling you the truth, Ty,” Dan said. “It’s a whole different set of values outside this reservation. Why do you think so many who leave here have such a difficult time adjusting? Why do so many of them kill themselves?”
The sounds of a helicopter interrupted their conversation. Matt and FBI agent Simmons stepped down and unloaded their equipment. After they had settled in, Ty explained the problem.
“Where are the forest service people?” Simmons asked.
“Out there somewhere,” Ty said, waving a hand toward the timber.
“The Sataws and breakaways?” Matt asked.
“They have gone. There’s no trace of them anywhere near here. I believe they’ve split up and are seeking a new area in which to live.”
“What do you want us to do, Ty?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know. But I do have this thought: Let me speak to these men who hunt us for sport. Let me try to make them understand our position in the scheme of things.”
Simmons grunted and Matt looked sad. Both men knew the types of those coming illegally into the area. Any attempted meaningful conversation with one of them would be about as productive as debating the writings of Voltaire with a tree stump.
“It would be a waste of time, Ty,” Matt told him. “These people aren’t interested in the advancement of science or the preservation of a species. They enjoy killing things simply for the sake of killing. When the last wolf is gone,
they’ll start on the eagles. When those are gone, they’ll find something else. They just don’t care.”
“What a strange society you live in, Matt,” Elder Ty said. “It is beyond my comprehension. If certain people refuse to live by tried and true rules, why not dispose of them? Wouldn’t it make your society a better place?”
“Of course it would,” Matt said. “But that isn’t going to happen. And talking about it doesn’t do anything toward solving the immediate problem. Let me talk to my boss. Maybe he can come up with something.”
* * *
“The only thing I can do is suggest that more game wardens be sent in to patrol the outer edges of the reservation,” Richard told Matt. “The military is not going to be sent back in there, and I need you out here.”
“My job is finished, Rich. I’ve officially pulled the pin with the agency. Look, get in touch with Donna Gates. Yes, that Donna Gates. See if her network is still interested in this story. Get it before the American people. Damn it, the tribe members in here are thinking, speaking beings. They are not trophies to be stuck up on a fucking wall.”
“No time, ol’ hoss,” Nick said. “Ty’s gone to meet with the hunters.”
“God damn it!” Matt tossed the microphone to the table. “They’ll kill him, Nick.”
Nick shrugged. “He said he had to try, Matt. He had to see through his own eyes what manner of people lived on the outside.”
“But these people are not representative of the majority,” Matt said.
“Really?” the guide said dryly.
8
Matt was saddling his horse when Simmons walked up to the corral. “I’ll go with you,” the FBI man said.
“You’d better not.”
“Why not? I’m a federal officer. I can stop these men . . . legally,” he added.
“I don’t give a shit for legal,” Matt replied. “And I’m going to stop them—permanently.”
“If that’s your feeling, Matt, then you’re no better than those poachers coming in.”
“That depends on which side of the issue you’re standing on, doesn’t it?” Matt swung into the saddle and looked down at Simmons. “You’re needed here, partner. I’ll take care of this situation.”
Nick and Dan were already in the saddle. They turned their horses and moved toward the timber.
“If Ty don’t want us to spot him, we won’t,” Dan called over his shoulder. “I expect he’s already covered a couple of miles and he ain’t using any trail the horses could follow.”
“Simmons’ comin’ up behind us,” Nick said. “Totin’ a camera, looks like.”
“That’s so if anything happens, he can keep it nice and legal,” Matt said.
Nick and Dan merely grunted at that.
Simmons rode up to the group. “You can’t keep me from coming along,” he said stubbornly.
“I wouldn’t think of trying,” Matt said.
“There’s Ty,” Nick pointed out. “And there are the poachers.” He pointed to a line of horsemen about a hundred yards outside the timber, in a meadow.
Ty was about five hundred yards ahead of the group when the first shot rang out.
“Shit!” Matt cussed as he watched Ty stumble, grab at a tree for support, and then slump to the ground. He put his horse to a trot and the others followed.
“I got him!” They all heard the shout as they reached Ty. “Did you see the ugly bastard fall? I did. I got him. I got him.”
Matt knelt down beside Ty. The being had been hit in the chest, and hit hard. “Don’t kill them, Matt Jordan,” Ty said. “There’s been enough killing.”
Matt said nothing.
“Promise me, Matt.”
“All right, Ty. I give you my word I will not kill them.”
“Thank you.”
Nick gave Dan a glance and the man mounted up and rode off, back to the encampment.
“I only wanted to speak with them,” Ty said, the words pushing painfully and laboriously out of his animal mouth. “I meant them no harm.”
“Did you see that son-of-a-bitch kick when he hit the ground?” Sonny hollered.
“You got him, Sonny. He’s yours. Hey!” Steve yelled. “You people get the hell away from our kill!”
“Our kill,” Ty said. “I am somebody’s kill. I wonder what they plan to do with me? Stuff me and frighten children?”
Nick knelt down and took Ty’s hand. “It’ll be a long journey, old friend. But one with a happy ending.”
“For me, yes—but not for my people.”
“Dan knows. He’s gone back.”
Simmons wondered what in hell they were talking about.
Matt thought he knew.
“We knew each other for only a very brief time, Matt Jordan,” Ty said. “But I thank you for being my friend.”
“The pleasure was mine, Ty.”
Ty smiled. The smile no longer looked strange on the animal face. “Despite what you think of yourself, Matt, you’re a good man at heart.”
Matt only nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Ty held out a hand and Matt gently gripped it. Ty closed his eyes and died.
“You gave your word,” Simmons reminded Matt.
Matt released Ty’s hand and placed the hand on the being’s chest. He stood up slowly. “I know what I said. I have no intention of killing the son-of-a-bitch.”
Simmons looked at his tense stance. “You damn sure have intentions of doing something.”
“You can accurately say that, yes.”
“Hey!” Al Bagby yelled. “You goddamn guys get away from our kill.”
“You the one who shot Try?” Matt asked as the group of men walked into the timber.
“Ty? Who the hell is Ty?” Art asked.
“This dead being, that’s who.”
“You mean the goddamn thing had a name?”
“Did you shoot him?”
“Naw, I did,” Sonny said. “He’s mine, and I’m gonna take him and have him stuffed and mounted.”
“You think that’s what you’re going to do, huh?”
“Yeah. And you ain’t man enough to stop me.”
Matt hit him. The blow was fast and landed exactly where Matt intended, flush on the mouth, and Sonny went down in a sprawl of arms and legs. Nick and Simmons both leveled their weapons at the poachers.
“Drop them,” Nick ordered. “Or die where you stand.”
Five rifles hit the ground.
Sonny was getting up off the ground when Matt kicked him in the face. The toe of his boot impacted with teeth and pearlies went flying from the young man’s mouth. Matt then proceeded to kick in Sonny’s face. He stopped just short of killing the man. Sonny’s face would bear the scars of this day until the day he finally did the world a favor and exited it.
“Wallets on the ground,” Simmons said. “Get their IDs, Nick. I want to keep them on file in case they fuck up again sometime during their miserable lives.”
Five wallets hit the ground.
“My poor boy needs a doctor!” Steve moaned, holding Sonny’s bloody head in his lap. “God damn, he didn’t do nothing except shoot a wild animal.”
Matt was busy smashing the men’s rifles to pieces against a boulder.
It was all Simmons could do to keep from pistol-whipping the poacher. “Get out of here,” the FBI agent said tightly, “before I kill you myself.”
Matt smiled at him. “You have human emotions after all.”
“Sometimes, Husky. Sometimes.”
* * *
A crowd of doctors and scientists and technicians gathered around them when they returned to the encampment. “They’re gone!” a woman yelled. “Dan rode in and everybody left within fifteen minutes. They just packed up and left.”
“One said the human race would be contacted someday, when the tribe felt we were advanced enough to deal with them. I’m sorry about Ty. Is that why they left?”
“I’m sure of it,” Matt said.
“Aren’t you going after them?”
another asked him. “Please go after them.”
“No.”
“No! Why? Where is Ty’s body? I don’t understand any of this.”
“I’m not going after them because our society won’t protect them while you people study them. A group of tribe members took Ty’s body for secret burial. I’ll call in for helicopters. You people had better pack up if you’re going out. It’s all over here.”
Matt turned his back to them and walked to the radio tent. He was again wondering, for about the thousandth time in his adult life, why the United States government always seemed to fuck up a good thing.
9
“Why did you just drop out of sight, Matt?” Richard asked. “Oh, by the way, we’re holding your retirement checks.”
“Susan and I left the country. Took the kids with us. I didn’t think you’d have my papers processed so quickly.”
“The young man you very nearly kicked to death in the wilderness is going to live.”
“I don’t care one way or the other, Rich.”
Richard did his best to look hurt, but he didn’t quite pull it off. “However, he is going to be horribly disfigured for the rest of his life.”
“Maybe somebody will mistake him for an animal and shoot him.”
Richard sighed. “We have a job for you, Matt. And this isn’t a request.”
Matt waited. He knew that a lot of not-so-subtle pressure could be exerted if he refused a job.
“You’ve been out of the country for several months, Matt. A lot has happened during that time.” He held up thumb and forefinger about a half inch apart. “Congress is this close to passing a bill guaranteeing the protection of the tribe if they surface again.”
“How?”
“United States marshals and other federal law enforcement people. The bill also has a provision that would make it a federal crime for anyone to violate the reservation area, punishable by a minimum sentence of twenty-five years.”
“No.”
Richard looked pained. “What do you mean, no? Jesus, Husky, what do you want?”
“Violators shot on sight.”
Richard sighed. “Why must you be so difficult?” he muttered. He cleared his throat. “You know Congress will never go along with that.”
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