“No, I can’t.” Comstock knocked back his ball cap and rubbed his forehead as if it hurt. He glanced up at Joe. “I hate to ask it of you.”
“We’re glad to help,” Dani said, kneeling beside the open door. “You should get your knee looked at first. Talking to the rancher can wait.”
Comstock shook his head. “Hershel lost a good mare yesterday and I’m interested to hear what he has to say about it.”
Hershel Bonner’s place was ten miles away, maybe five miles as the crow flies, but the ranch roads were twisty in the mountains. It was nearly forty minutes before they were rattling down the rutted road that led to a modest clapboard ranch house with a pole barn and a series of corrals out back. A battered blue Ford pickup was parked beside the pole barn and a late-model hybrid car was up near the house. Joe parked beside the hybrid, and a yellow dog came around the corner of the barn, announcing their arrival with gruff barks and raised hackles.
“That’s Fang. She won’t hurt you, she just sounds mean,” a slender young woman in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt called out as she stepped onto the porch. The screen door slammed behind her. She peered through the windshield at Joe, sitting in the driver’s seat of Comstock’s vehicle, and frowned. “What happened, Ben?” she said as Comstock opened the passenger-side door and tried to disembark. He drew a sharp breath, gave up on the idea and remained in his seat.
“Twisted my knee hiking down from that forest service cabin up on the mountain. I’d like to talk to your father if I could, Josie.”
Josie swept her dark hair back and secured it with a band. “Sure. I’ll go get him.” She glanced behind them as Dani drove up, then gave Comstock a lopsided smile. “This some kind of government raid?”
Ben laughed. “No. These folks were kind enough to help me out. They were up in the Arrow Roots when I hurt my knee.”
“Well, we thank you both kindly, then. Ben’s like family to us.” Josie headed for the barn and Comstock leaned back in his seat, massaging his knee. They watched her walk into the barn with the gruff and bristling yellow dog at her heel. A few seconds later she reemerged with a man walking beside her, wiping his hands on a towel. Father and daughter were cut from the same cloth, both tall and rangy and not an ounce of fat on either of them. Hershel Bonner had silver hair, thinning and brushed back from his temples, and a mustache to match. His eyes were keen and clear and he walked like a cowboy.
“Come inside. I’ll make coffee,” Hershel said when he paused beside the passenger-side door and shook Comstock’s hand.
“Can’t,” Comstock said. “I have a bum knee. But thank you. Hershel, some wild horses were shot up in the Arrow Roots yesterday. A stallion and four mares.”
“Custer’s band?” Josie said in disbelief. “Custer was shot, too?”
Comstock nodded. “I think one of the mares belonged to you. Sorrel mare, wearing your brand. You missing a horse?”
Hershel rubbed his jaw and nodded. “Moxie. I kind of figured he’d run her off.”
“Custer?”
Hershel nodded. “He ranges, that stallion does, especially this time of year. It’s not far from here to there, once the snow melts in the pass, and Moxie liked to wander.”
“Moxie’s dead? My Moxie?” Josie said to her father, visibly stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me she was missing? I’ve been here three whole days! I just assumed she was running with the rest of the bunch.”
“She was,” Hershel said. “I noticed she was missing about a week ago. I told Kurt about it when he stopped by last Friday, looking for you. I figured he’d tell you.”
“Well, guess what? He didn’t!” Josie snapped, glaring at her father. “You know we haven’t been getting along, Dad. I’ve asked him for a divorce and that’s why I’m staying with you, or have you forgotten?”
Hershel sighed and ran his fingers through thinning hair. “When I saw she wasn’t with the rest of the bunch, I figured Custer’d stolen her, so yesterday I rode past Stony Gap and up toward the higher valley. Cut her tracks from time to time, so I knew she was headed that way. I meant to tell you,” he said to Josie. “Thought we could ride up together and bring her back. Never figured anything like this would happen.”
“Know anyone who might hike up past the old forest service cabin with the intent to shoot horses?” Comstock asked.
Hershel uttered a curt laugh. “I know a lot of people who’d like to shoot every last one of them,” he said. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, Ben. Just about any rancher that runs cows or sheep on BLM lands, any hunter that hunts elk or deer, most of ’em want those horses gone. If you’re trying to pin that shooting on somebody, good luck.”
“That’s national forest that Custer’s band was on, not leased lands,” Dani said, approaching the Jeep. “There’d be no reason for anyone to shoot those horses, and besides that, it’s against the law.”
“There’re no fences holding them horses in. They’re free to roam right onto BLM land and someone probably connected the dots and figured they were going to do just that,” Hershel replied with a shrug.
“Whoever did the shooting shot your mare, too,” Comstock pointed out. “They weren’t all unbranded. You could bring charges against the shooter.”
“You can bet we will!” Josie shot out heatedly. “Moxie was a great horse. I won a team penning championship with her just three years ago. She was the best cutting horse I ever rode. You have to find out who did this, Ben. They need to be punished.” She spun to her father. “Whoever killed Moxie has to pay, Daddy. I know you like all your neighbors and don’t want to stir up trouble, but if horse stealing used to be a hanging offense, horse shooting ought to be good for a few years in jail. I bet it was Don Chesley. He’s a bigwig in the cattlemen’s association. Hates wild horses. He’s lobbying to get most of them rounded up and sold for slaughter in Mexico.”
“Josie, Ches wouldn’t be up there shooting horses,” Hershel said. “He’s a career politician and he plays by the rules.”
“He could’ve hired someone. He’s got the money. His family was involved in the Bell Creek deal. Oil,” she explained in response to questioning looks from Joe and Dani.
“Josie,” Hershel admonished wearily. “My daughter has her opinions and likes to share them,” he apologized to Ben Comstock. “I personally can’t think of anyone who’d hike all that way just to shoot some wild horses. That’s a steep trail. Most of the hunters around here don’t stray far from the beaten path. Too lazy.”
“Well, I’ll have a chat with Don Chesley,” Comstock said. “Thanks for your time, Hershel. Josie, I’m sorry about your mare.”
“I’m more than sorry,” Josie said. “I’m seriously pissed off. I’m going up there today to find her and say my goodbyes.”
“There’s a grizzly with two cubs in the valley,” Comstock cautioned as Joe started the Jeep. “Be careful.”
They left the Bonner place, and when the ranch road intersected with the main road, Joe paused the Jeep and made sure Dani caught up behind them. “You want to talk to Don Chesley now, Ben?” he asked.
Comstock shook his head. “He’s probably not home. Spends most of his time lobbying at the state capitol. I’ll touch base with him by phone.”
“I got the impression Hershel Bonner knows more than he’s telling.”
Comstock gave him a sharp glance, then indicated Joe should turn right. “My place is about ten miles from here.” After a few minutes of silence he blew out his breath. “I’m friends with most of them. That’s the hell of it.”
“Tough job.”
“Everything from criminal investigations to ticketing litterbugs. I cover the entire district, and I also serve as a reserve deputy sheriff for the county. Emma keeps asking when I’m going to retire and I keep telling her, ‘When they let me.’ I love the job, though. Every day’s different. I like
being out in the field—never was cut out for a desk job.”
“You might be sitting at a desk for a few weeks with that knee.”
Comstock shook his head. “Hope not. Fishing season’s in full swing and this is the time of year folks get lost hiking or get in over their head on the rafting rivers. Sheriff Conroy’s son, Kurt, helps me out sometimes. He’s a deputy sheriff himself. Married to Josie Bonner, matter of fact, though from the sound of things maybe not for much longer. I’ll give Kurt a call, see if he can cover some bases for me, get this evidence to the lab. Then I’ll take a chopper flight over the pass and look for the rest of Custer’s mares, see if they’re okay. If I don’t do that, I’ll be in big trouble with Jessie Weaver.”
“If there’s anything Dani and I can do, let us know.”
“Will do. How long are you visiting for?”
“Until my sister’s wedding.”
“You like the city life?”
“It’s all I’ve known, aside from four years in the military and some time in the Middle East,” Joe said. “When I got out of the service, my uncle got me a job on the patrol beat and from there I worked my way up the ladder. But I can see why Molly likes it out here. It’s beautiful country.”
“That it is,” Comstock agreed. “It’s been said that if you stay long enough to wear out a pair of shoes, you’ll never leave.”
Joe glanced in the rearview mirror. Dani was right behind them. He wondered if she had to go back to her place in Helena tonight, and hoped she didn’t. He also wondered how much tread was left on his shoes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHEN THEY REACHED Comstock’s house, he invited Joe and Dani inside for coffee. “Emma makes the best strudel, and her coffee’s not too bad,” he said. “Just don’t mention Bernie’s coffee at the Longhorn Café to her, and you’ll be fine.”
Emma herself met them on the porch. She looked just like Dani had pictured—a sturdy, capable woman with silvery hair pulled back into a twist, kind eyes and strong, beautiful features. She gave Dani and Joe a warm, grateful smile. “Thank you both so much for bringing Ben home safe,” she said. “Come inside. I just took the apple strudel out of the oven and the coffee’s fresh.”
They drank coffee and ate warm apple and pecan strudel while Ben filled his wife in on the day’s events. Emma put an ice pack on Ben’s knee while he narrated and when he was finished talking she tried to convince him to let her take him to the hospital in Bozeman for X-rays.
“They’ll do the same thing you just did, Em,” he said. “They’ll tell me to stay off my feet, elevate my leg, ice the knee, wrap it with an Ace bandage and take aspirin for the pain. Am I right?” he asked her.
“You’re a stubborn man,” she replied.
“You should know,” he said. “Is there any more of that strudel left?”
Dani’s cell phone rang. “It’s Molly,” she said. She rose to her feet and went out onto the porch to answer it. “Hi. We’re just at Ben Comstock’s place,” she explained, filling Molly in as quickly as she could. “We’ll be on the road soon. I have to get back to Helena tonight.”
“Pony just called Steven and told him that Sheriff Conroy’s out at the Bow and Arrow. He’s hoping to get a statement from you—we thought you might be going back there to check on the foal. Is Joseph okay? I’ve been trying to reach you guys for hours.”
“There was no cell reception where we were, but he’s fine, really.”
“His boss has been trying to reach him. Wants him to call, says it’s important.”
“I’ll let him know. Joe did amazing on the hike up Gunflint Mountain. I’d say he’s well on the road to recovery. Did Pony say how the foal was doing? Did the foster mare arrive?”
“Apparently the mare rejected the foal, but Roon’s doing his best to keep her alive, and Jessie hasn’t given up on the fostering idea. Pony says she has another plan.”
“Good,” Dani said, relieved to hear that the filly was still alive. “I’ll drop Joe off at your house after meeting with the sheriff, but I really have to get back to Helena. I have a ten o’clock appointment with a client tomorrow morning.”
“Can’t you reschedule? Stay with us tonight, Dani. It’s too far to drive after such an exhausting day.”
Dani wavered. Molly had a point. She was tired and the drive to Helena was a long one. “Thanks, Molly. I’ll call my client and see if I can work something out. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
She went back inside the warm, fragrant kitchen and met Joe’s eyes across the kitchen table. “Sheriff Conroy wants to meet us at the Bow and Arrow. He wants to get a statement about what we saw.”
Ben Comstock pulled the plastic bag of gathered evidence out of his uniform pocket and handed it to Joe. “Give this to him, if you would. You have my card, so don’t hesitate to call me if you want an update or have any information to pass along.”
“Will do,” Joe said, pushing to his feet and pocketing the plastic bag.
They said their farewells and moments later were in the Subaru, headed back to the Bow and Arrow. Halfway down Comstock’s driveway, Dani realized that Joe had climbed behind the wheel. She was glad to let him drive. She was more than just tired. She was discouraged, downhearted and downright exhausted. She gazed out the window at a landscape that was so beautiful it made her throat cramp up. She blinked hard. She was not going to cry again.
“Molly said your boss wants you to call him. It’s important,” she said when she could manage to speak.
“I’ll call when we get to the Bow and Arrow. They’ve probably caught the bastard who shot me.”
“I hope so.”
“That strudel was great, huh?”
She heaved a sigh. “Yes, it was delicious. They’re a nice couple. It’s good to know true love exists and endures.”
Two silent miles passed while she fought back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.
“It’s going to be okay, Dani,” Joe said, breaking the silence that was destroying her.
“What makes you so sure?” Dani turned her head to look at his profile, her eyes still stinging. “What’s going to make it okay? They’ll never find out who shot those horses. Hershel Bonner’s right. A lot of people around here want them gone.”
“A lot of people care about those mustangs. You care. Ben Comstock cares. His wife cares. That young kid, Roon, at the Bow and Arrow, he cares. Pony and Caleb McCutcheon care. The veterinarian, Jessie Weaver, she cares. They all care. That’s what makes a difference and that’s what’s going to make it okay.”
“Is that how it works in the big city?” Dani said, sitting up straight. “Everybody cares, and everything’s okay? Because out here, what happens is the BLM rounds the wild horses up using helicopters, and if they’re not adopted out they’re put in holding pens, or if they’re considered too old and nonadoptable they get slaughtered. Right now there are over forty thousand wild horses being held in long-term facilities and the lobbyists for the cattlemen’s association and hunting groups are pushing the BLM to have them all slaughtered. What’s going to make that okay? Money talks, but we don’t have any money. Big business has all the money. All I have is a bunch of photos, and maybe I can buy some support with those, but we need real money to make a difference. We need to have the legislators listen to us for a change. Wild horses deserve protection. They deserve the right to live on the land and eat the grass and drink the water. There are ways to reduce the population without slaughtering them, but viable numbers have to be maintained for genetic diversity.”
“I’m not the enemy, Dani,” Joe said. “I’m on your side.”
Dani sank back in her seat. She drew a shaky breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“We’ll meet with that sheriff and then head back to my sister’s. I’ll buy you supper
at the Longhorn—they must have good burgers. And, oh, by the way, just to set the record straight, in the big city, your BLM dudes would get swallowed whole by the gangsters, the sex traffickers and the drug cartel. They wouldn’t last a day in the concrete jungle.”
* * *
ROON READ SOMETHING once when he was a young boy. It was written by Chief Dan George and it stayed with him because it resonated, and those simple words came to him now as he held the foal while she nursed from the bottle. He spoke the words softly to himself as the foal drank the mare’s milk that Jessie had retrieved from the foster mare.
One thing to remember is to talk to the animals. If you do, they will talk back to you. But if you don’t talk to the animals, they won’t talk back to you, then you won’t understand, and when you don’t understand you will fear, and when you fear you will destroy the animals, and if you destroy the animals, you will destroy yourself.
“So I am talking to you now and you are talking back to me. We are talking, and the spirit between us is good, and you will know that you have in you everything you need to live and we will help each other to be strong.”
* * *
RAMALDA HEARD ROON’S voice crooning to the foal as she cleaned the kitchen after the evening meal. She listened carefully to his words as she scrubbed the countertops, wiped the dishes and put them away. She shook her head, her expression grim. She turned the burner off under the coffeepot and carried it, along with two mugs, out onto the porch where the sheriff sat with Caleb McCutcheon, awaiting the arrival of the girl who found the orphaned foal. She set both mugs on the side table and filled them with fresh coffee. “The boy talks, the little one eats. He will not let her die.”
Caleb nodded and picked up one of the mugs, handing it to Sheriff Conroy. He took the other and gazed down toward the creek. “That sounds about right.”
“But the boy, Roon, he will get sick if he does not eat and does not sleep! This is no good! No good! Is his life worth less than that of a horse?” She turned on her heel and stomped back into the kitchen. The screen door banged shut behind her.
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