That clearly whetted Running’s interest. “How unusual.”
There were those eyes again! What was it about them that made me so jumpy?
“What, that I’m an agent?”
I’d long ago realized that as a woman, I’d forever be forced to establish my credibility at each new station, and with every person I met.
“No. That as a woman, you’d choose western Montana for your territory. You must like banging your head against walls.”
“And of course a male agent wouldn’t have to worry about that, would he?” I challenged.
“No, he would. It’s just that men tend to blindly jump into things without thinking them through. Women are generally smarter than that.”
Maybe this guy had more depth than I’d thought.
“Then I guess I’m the exception to the rule,” I archly responded.
“Somehow I doubt that.” Running laughed.
Even now his gaze held a predatory air, and I realized what I found so unsettling about it. He had the eyes of a wolf.
“I’m preparing an early dinner, Matt. Why don’t you stay and join us?”
Running turned his head slightly, and his gaze swept the area before coming to rest on his truck for a brief moment. It was long enough to clue me in that something lay hidden beneath the tarp in the cargo bay.
“Are you sure it’s all right?”
Sally gently touched his arm. “It will be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks, then. That would be great.”
I wondered what that exchange was all about as Running stepped inside the house with his dog.
Three
Hal poured four glasses of wine and Sally passed me a plate of cheese and crackers. Food is always a terrific icebreaker—at least it was for me and the dog. The pooch immediately jumped up and began to lick my face, doing his darnedest to convince me that I was his new best friend.
“Yeah, yeah. I know your type.” I laughed and fed him a slice of Cheddar. “As soon as you don’t get what you want, you’re out of here.”
I passed the plate on to Hal and the dog proved me correct.
“What’s his name?” I asked, the sharp tang of Cheddar nipping at my tongue.
“Custer,” Matt replied matter-of-factly.
I took it as an invitation to question him further. “That seems an odd choice.”
“Not really.” Running sipped his wine, allowing the moment to dangle. “That way he gets to live with the knowledge of who his real master is, and always knows his place.”
“Matthew has a wicked sense of humor.” Sally affectionately tugged his ponytail.
Yes, didn’t he—along with an innate sense of how to keep me the slightest bit off kilter.
Dinner was soon ready. Hal helped Sally dish the food into bowls and we took our places at the table.
“Exactly what is it that you do?” I asked Running, spooning some potatoes onto my plate.
Matt picked up a slice of the elk roast and fed it to Custer before answering. “I’m your counterpart.”
I looked at him, not quite sure what he meant.
Running’s lips twitched in amusement. “You do realize that your agency isn’t the sole authority for dealing with wildlife issues on the reservation, don’t you? After all, we are a sovereign nation. I’m the tribal game officer for the Blackfeet reservation.”
His tone let me know this was more than a casual exchange of information. Custer interrupted by sharply barking for another handout, and Running turned his hypnotic gaze on the pooch. The critter immediately fell silent, then sat on his haunches and quietly begged.
“Good boy,” Matthew said, and gave him another piece of meat.
If Running was expecting me to behave in a similar manner, he was in for one hell of a surprise.
I’d been warned to expect resistance on the reservation. Not only was I a female wielding the authority of a federal agent, but the government wasn’t very popular around these parts. The Blackfeet preferred to handle their own wildlife violations without outside interference, and this was especially true if a tribal member was suspected to be the culprit. Fish and Wildlife was rarely called in for help, and even when they were, getting information was difficult. That being the case, an unspoken hands-off policy was honored—unless endangered and threatened species became embroiled in the mix. Then the violation fell directly under FWS’s jurisdiction. Should that happen, I had every intention of stepping in. And unlike Running’s pooch, Custer, I wasn’t about to be controlled or surrender.
“Well then, I look forward to working closely together,” I said pleasantly and gave Custer some food off my plate.
Running turned his attention to Hal. “Do you mind if I ask how you got that scar?”
Ornish refilled his glass, more than happy to relate his tale.
“It was Old Caleb did that,” he said, sounding like an inebriated Long John Silver. “You know about Old Caleb, don’t you?”
As Running shook his head, Sally’s fingers began drumming on the table.
“Well, you better learn about him real quick, being that you’re the game officer for these parts. That bear is a psychotic man killer!”
“Here we go again. Don’t be a total dipshit!” Sally slapped her palm down hard. “What happened was that your rear end was exactly where it shouldn’t have been—parked smack in the middle of his territory. For God’s sakes, you were standing right next to the bear’s scratching post—on top of which, you even pretended to be his damn dinner. What did you expect? You’re lucky he let you walk away alive.”
Hal’s bushy eyebrows twitched like two woolly caterpillars on a roller coaster ride. “I beg to differ! I’m the scientist here and I know exactly what happened.”
Sally was swift and merciless. “I don’t care if you’re Albert Einstein reincarnated, Hal Ornish. You have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about when it comes to bears, whereas I live with them every day. Like it or not, you’re a city boy. If you want to be safe, stay out of the damn wilderness!”
The woman must have had one hell of a dance act in her day; she contained enough passion to fuel a nuclear reactor.
Hal’s eyebrows collapsed. “Goddammit woman, you just don’t play fair. You become even more beautiful when you get angry. How am I supposed to argue with that?” He tugged on his cap, and the word COOT danced up and down.
Sally leaned over and fondly kissed him on the nose. “You’re not, my dear. That’s the whole idea. You’re just supposed to agree with me.”
It was clear that Hal was secretly delighted, even though he pretended to grumble.
I helped Sally clean up the dishes, and then turned to where Hal had settled down with another glass of wine.
“We’d better take off if we’re going to make it home tonight. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
Hal’s response was a disappointed groan.
“Thanks so much for dinner, Sally. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” I said, wondering how gauche it would be to ask her for some beauty tips.
Ornish took Sally’s hand and tenderly kissed it. “It’s been far too long, my dear. I promise to call soon. By the way, I have a hunk of venison sitting at home in my freezer that’s more than I can possibly eat. What say I bring it with me next time and we have it for dinner—just the two of us?”
Sally slipped her hand through Hal’s arm. “Maybe it is time I had a little more company,” she coyly conceded.
Hal appeared to float all the way out the door and onto the porch, where I joined him. I was just about to say good-bye to Matthew Running when a distinct rustling came from under the pickup’s canvas tarp.
I glanced at Matt, whose expression remained studiously blank. The guy was a natural-born card player.
“Have I had too much to drink, or is there something going on in your cargo bay?”
My question was answered by a loud bawl. Then a second cry joined the chorus.
“I’d like to take a lo
ok, if you don’t mind.”
“And if I do?” Running responded, invoking the tribe’s silent hands-off policy.
This was as good a time as any for Running to learn that I play by my own set of rules.
“It makes no difference. I still intend to see what you’re hiding,” I brusquely informed him. Walking over, I pulled off the canvas.
Two small grizzly cubs sat looking forlorn in a wire cage. I couldn’t have been more surprised if Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus had come marching down the drive. Especially since grizzlies have been protected under the Endangered Species Act since 1975.
Grizzlies roamed the Great Plains before the West was won. Their territory extended from Alaska down into Mexico, and from the Pacific Coast east to the Mississippi River. Their numbers reached in the hundreds of thousands. Then homesteaders, ranchers, and trappers blazed across the prairie, razing the grizzlies’ ancient forest homes in the name of civilization.
Bears were shot, strangled, or poisoned in a victorious drive to tame the wild West. By the time it was over, fewer than a thousand grizzlies were left in the lower forty-eight states. They fled to isolated enclaves of vanishing wilderness, and today only a handful exist in Washington, Wyoming, and Idaho, slowly sliding toward oblivion. The creature’s last stronghold is the high country of Montana, along the Continental Divide. This is where the species will continue to live, or will ultimately die.
I looked at the two wide-eyed cubs and knew they were frightened. The sight tugged at my heart. Not only were their coats pathetically scraggly, but the ribs in their bodies were showing. Each couldn’t have weighed more than twenty-five pounds. Glaringly clear was the fact that they needed to be with their mother.
This was the time of year when bears are in a state of hyperphagia, or what’s known as a feeding frenzy, when they view the world as one large garbage can. Days are spent chowing down on everything edible in a last-ditch effort to load up on calories before their long winter sleep. But winter was nearly here, and hibernation just around the corner. Left on their own, these cubs would never survive.
“Do you want to tell me exactly what the hell is going on?” I demanded, calling upon every ounce of self-control to hold back my anger.
Though grizzlies, wolves, and eagles had the highest priority at my new station, there was bound to be all-out war over my first arrest. I’d been hoping to pinch some low-life scum for shooting wolves or poisoning eagles; instead, I was about to nab the tribal game officer for the Blackfeet Indian Reservation. It appeared my career was now poised to explode, just when I’d thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse.
Running’s eyes narrowed, the yellow glints in his pupils dancing up a firestorm.
“These cubs have been running around loose in search of food, and getting into trouble. That leads me to believe their mother must have been killed. Recently they’ve even been rummaging through people’s garbage. It was only a matter of time before they’d be shot, or left to slowly starve to death. Under the circumstances, I decided the best thing was to temporarily remove them.”
Running’s gaze never wavered, and I knew the man wasn’t lying. Still, his actions ran totally contrary to U.S. Fish and Wildlife policy. Orphaned adolescents like these were considered no more than casualties, and left to die. Running had broken the law by picking them up. Either he was a man with conscience who also played by his own set of rules, or he was just plain mercenary.
Everything that lives and breathes can be used to make a buck. That goes from the stuff beneath our feet all the way up to the very treetops. There isn’t a creature or plant in existence that isn’t worth some amount of money. Running might even have intended to sell these cubs to a roadside zoo.
“And just what do you plan to do with them?” I inquired.
Matthew glanced at Sally, and she silently nodded. “These aren’t the first cubs that I’ve found. There have been four others since early spring. Sally is feeding and fattening them up until the sows go into hibernation. Then we’ll try to find a few sleeping moms and place the cubs inside the dens with them.”
I could have sworn my mouth hit the ground. What did this guy take me for? A complete moron?
“In the first place, what makes you think the sow will accept them?” I asked incredulously. “And secondly, why hasn’t this been reported to me?”
My emotions wavered between secret relief that he’d rescued the cubs, and white-hot fury. I’d never heard of such a thing being done before. On the other hand, it was just possible that their plan might work. Still, Running had deliberately left me out of the loop. Goddammit to hell! As if dealing with Southern rednecks hadn’t been bad enough, I was once again faced with the gunslinging, macho attitude of cowboys and Indians.
“I don’t care who you are, Running. I’ll place you under arrest if I don’t get some answers immediately.”
The hint of a smile flickered across Running’s lips. Now the guy was really beginning to piss me off.
“And just how long have you been stationed in Montana?” he dryly inquired.
Oh God, he was playing the old I’ve-been-here-longer-than-you routine.
“Nearly a month.” I silently dared him to take the next step.
Running not only met my challenge, but upped the ante. “There’s the answer to your question. You haven’t even made a trip up to the rez to meet with me yet.”
“It’s not as if I received a welcome-to-the-neighborhood fruit basket from you, either,” I promptly shot back.
I idly rattled the handcuffs on my belt, and discovered it instantly made me feel better. Perhaps that was the solution to my dealings with men. In my spare time, I could become a dominatrix. “And if my experience is your problem, then why didn’t you bother to report this to the agent before me?”
“You know, I considered doing that,” Running drawled. “Only it was just about then that he was getting some hands-on experience of his own. And you’re aware of how well that worked out.”
I mentally began to beat my own set of war drums. “Let me remind you of something you seem to have conveniently forgotten. As a protected species, grizzlies belong to the United States government and not to the Blackfeet tribe.”
“Ah, yes. I keep forgetting how you whites own everything,” Running replied in a voice as smooth as hot, flowing lava. “When the West was won, both the Indians and the grizzlies lost.”
“All right! That’s enough, the two of you!” Sally commanded, bringing the confrontation to a halt. “Rachel, why don’t I show you where the cubs are kept, and then you can draw your own conclusion.”
I hated being put in this position. If it were up to me, no critter would ever be killed or left to die. I glanced again at the cubs with their dopey expressions. Okay, so the world wasn’t one big Disney film. But there was also no way I was about to turn them loose to meet certain death.
“We might as well bring these two along since we’re going there anyway,” I gruffly remarked. “Hal, why don’t you help Running carry the cage?”
“Like hell I will! They may look cute now, but do you know what these two are going to turn into when they grow up? Massive flesh-eating carnivores that are schizophrenic, manic-depressive creatures!”
I couldn’t believe the words coming from a man who called himself a scientist. Apparently, neither could Sally.
“Hal Ornish! You behave yourself and help Matthew with that cage right now. I’m not going to let these cubs die just because of your outlandish fear!”
Forget the beauty tips, forget the whips and chains—I wanted Sally’s delicious sense of rage! I wondered just how far Hal would go to win back the woman he presumably loved.
“Sonofabitch. I can’t believe I’m actually gonna do this,” he sputtered and slowly walked toward the pickup.
The cubs began to whimper as the two men lifted the cage.
“Don’t try to make me feel sorry for you, because it’s not going to work!” Hal hissed.
“Shh!” Sally reprimanded. “The whole point is to keep the cubs as isolated from human contact as possible—they can’t get imprinted on people. These cubs are like a bunch of street kids; they’re probably going to have to learn how to be bears without a mom.”
I was already impressed by her approach.
We headed toward the dense patch of aspen and silently began to make our way through, dodging branches and roots.
The woods finally thinned out, allowing me a glimpse of an enormous pen up ahead. Sure enough, four cubs frolicked inside. The quartet of pudgy babies cuffed each other as they fell over and crawled on one another’s backs. Looking at them, it was hard to believe they’d been born hairless, toothless, and the size of chipmunks. The phrase licked into shape sprang to mind. It came from an old belief that newborn cubs were so soft, their mother’s tongues had to mold them into shape. These cubs not only appeared to be doing just fine, but were well supplied with apples, roadkill, and water. Their bedding consisted of grass, moss, and leaves.
Sally held up a hand and the cage was lowered next to a chute that ran along the ground, connecting with the large enclosure via a trap door. Running unlatched the chute’s entrance, placed the pen up against it, and opened the cage. The cubs inside refused to budge, afraid to face the unknown, until Sally prodded their rear ends with a stick. Then they let loose a startled squeal and barreled through the wire tunnel as Running pulled the lever and raised the other trap door. The pen’s current residents quickly dashed over to examine their new roommates.
A nearby trolley revealed how food was sent in. I had to hand it to the woman; if the cubs were going to be successfully rehabbed, this was the way to do it. We quietly walked back out of the woods until we once again stood in front of her house. Sally and Running were probably smart enough to realize they already had me hooked, but I had no intention of letting this continue without my full involvement.
“I have an appointment back in Missoula tomorrow, so let’s meet in your office first thing the following morning. We need to discuss what’s been going on here,” I told Running. “I also want you to show me the areas where the cubs were found.”
A Killing Season Page 3
