Montana Unbranded

by Nadia Nichols

  Dani took a sip of coffee, momentarily tongue-tied by this revelation. “That’s pretty heavy stuff,” was all she could think to say.

  “She was in love with him. She admitted it after our divorce was finalized.” Joe’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but she could almost feel the tension radiating from him. In spite of the terrible way his ex-wife had treated him during their marriage, Joe had loved Alison, and her infidelity had hurt him deeply.

  They sat in silence, each caught up in their own thoughts as they drank their coffee. Finally Dani sat up a little straighter and looked right at him. “I understand how you feel about Marconi, Joe—at least I think I do—but I wish you wouldn’t go. I could use your help finding the person who shot those horses. The sheriff’s not going to put any real time into it, and Ben Comstock’s out of commission. I’ve been thinking of taking a few days off from work to talk to the forest rangers who patrol the Arrow Roots and maybe go see Josie again, without her father around. She had some pretty strong opinions, and she might have seen something on her ride up into the pass yesterday. Besides, if you go back east, what’ll you do? I mean, other than be used as bait to lure Marconi and his men.”

  “I have a friend with a boat who likes to striper fish. You ever fished for striped bass?” Dani shook her head. “They’re a great fighting fish. Fun to catch. Been years since I’ve been deep-sea fishing. I’d bring Ferg with me, take him out of that stuffy private boarding school and teach him how to fish. Six years old is the perfect age to get ’em hooked.”

  “But what about Molly’s wedding? Don’t you want to be here for that? Couldn’t you fly your son out here and get in some father-son time before the wedding?”

  “Bad plan. Think about it. Marconi wants me dead for a number of reasons, so he sets his dogs on me. They find out Molly’s engaged, not hard to do since the engagement’s been published. They easily figure out the wedding date and place. What better place to nail me than at my sister’s wedding? Ever see that movie The Godfather? That’s the sort of bloody drama the Mob likes. You want me to do that to Molly? If I go back east, I can at least keep the fight on the East Coast.”

  “If you bring the fight out here, you’ll have the advantage,” Dani argued. “Those goons are city dogs. They’d be like fish out of water in Montana. Everybody in this neck of woods has a gun and knows how to use it. Those kids at the Bow and Arrow? You’re worried about them? They could probably tie you up in knots. If you leave now, before the wedding, you’ll wreck Molly. You have to know that’s true.”

  Joe took a swallow of his coffee and was quiet for a moment. “For someone who doesn’t care about my personal life, you’re getting awfully personal,” he commented.

  “Molly’s my best friend and I care about anything that affects her,” Dani said. “If that offends you, I apologize.”

  “You can get as personal with me as you like. I’m all for it,” Joe said.

  Dani felt the heat climb into her cheeks and declined to respond. She took another sip of coffee instead as they shared a few minutes of uneasy silence. Then she said, “I just think you should stay, that’s all. That’s my opinion, for what it’s worth. Molly needs you right now.” Without waiting for a reply, she pushed out of her chair, called the two dogs and went back inside.

  * * *

  JOE WAS POURING his second cup of coffee and looking up the number for the airlines on his cell phone when Molly came into the kitchen. Her magnificent red hair framed her sleepy face. “Good morning, Joseph.” She picked up the coffeepot, started to pour herself a cup, then set it back on the warming plate with a grimace. “I can’t drink this stuff anymore,” she said as she drew a glass of water instead. “I don’t know why they call it morning sickness when it lasts all day.” The house phone rang. Molly carried her water with her and picked up the call. She spoke briefly, then held the phone out to Joe. “Ben Comstock. He’d like a word with you.”

  Comstock didn’t beat around the bush. “Morning, Joe. Last night I made arrangements with Yellowstone Helotours to fly up into the pass today to look for those four mares, but Emma’s taking me to the clinic this morning. My knee’s hurting pretty bad, figure I better get it checked out. I know it’s asking a lot, but could you meet the chopper pilot at ten a.m. this morning, at the airfield just south of Gallatin Gateway, and have a look for me? I’d appreciate it. The sheriff can’t go—he gets airsick—and I promised Jessie Weaver and Caleb McCutcheon I’d make sure those mares weren’t bogged down up in the snowpack. Some of those horses are probably pregnant, making them more vulnerable to predation. I also need someone to talk to the forest service employees. I was hoping you’d be able to do that, too. I know that’s asking a lot, son, but you said you’d be in the area for a few weeks. And this gives you a good opportunity to see the lay of the land.”

  Joe glanced suspiciously at Molly, who stared back with wide-eyed innocence. “Actually, sir, my plans have changed. I’m flying back east today.”

  “Oh? I’m sorry to hear that. I could have used your expertise on this case. Guess I’ll have to find someone else. I want you to know I appreciated your help yesterday, though, and so does Emma.”

  “Does the warden service usually use choppers to look for wild horses?”

  “They do when the chopper’s being paid for by the Wild Horse Foundation, and the wild horses were shot and harassed illegally. Caleb and Jessie are helping with the air search costs, as well. They have a vested interest in Custer’s herd, being as they’re nursing the foal that Dani rescued.”

  Joe ran his fingers through his hair. “I suppose I could delay my departure for one day.”

  “I’d really appreciate it. The pilot’s name is Nash. I told him where to look for the mares. He just needs a second pair of eyes to help search when he’s flying in the mountains. The downdrafts and turbulence can be tricky but Nash is experienced. If Dani wants to go along, her photos would be appreciated. There’re a couple good pairs of binoculars on board, too. They provide them for the tourists.”

  “I’ll be sure to let her know, though somehow I think she already does.”

  “The forest ranger’s main office isn’t far from the airstrip. You’ll pass it on the way there. You could stop in and get the name of the ranger who was patrolling that area of the Arrow Roots when the shooting occurred. Anything you could find out would be a help. I told Jessie Weaver she might get a firsthand report from you around suppertime out at the Bow and Arrow.”

  “That right?” Joe said. “She’s expecting us around suppertime?”

  “That’s when I usually show up. A man would be foolish to pass up a meal like that.”

  Joe hung up a few moments later and gave his sister a calculating stare. “I suppose Pony’s also expecting me to give the boys a lecture after supper?”

  “I think that would be nice,” Molly said.

  Dani chose that moment to enter the kitchen. She was still carrying her mug of coffee and looked as beautiful as the morning. She gave him a smile that took his breath away. Joe looked between the two of them and admitted defeat.

  “I’ve been ambushed,” he said. “I’ll stay one more day, but that’s it.”

  * * *

  NASH HAD BEEN flying for Yellowstone Helotours long enough for the job to have become mundane, but every time he got a call from Ben Comstock he felt the old adventurous spirit kick-start his heart. Comstock’s requests were usually search and rescue, and that sure beat flying a bunch of picture-snapping tourists over Old Faithful. He and the warden had a long and colorful history, but any differences of opinion over hunting ethics were laid to rest during times of human travail and tragedy. When Comstock had called him the previous evening, he’d been sitting at the bar contemplating putting the moves on a woman he’d taken sightseeing two days earlier. She was with two girlfriends and had just given him what could only be described as a
seductive smile when she entered the bar and spotted him.

  At that very moment his cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket.

  “Comstock here,” came the warden’s gruff voice. “Need you to fly over South Pass area in the Arrow Roots tomorrow, first thing, the area north of Hershel Bonner’s place in the national forest. Know that high valley where the old ranger cabin is?”

  “I know that whole area like the back of my hand, but I can’t do it first thing. I have a geyser tour. Can it be second thing? Say, ten a.m.?”

  “That’ll have to do.”

  “Search and rescue?”

  “Search, for sure. Not sure about the rescue part.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Nash figured it could be a challenging day, so he gave up on the idea of seducing the sexy tourist, left the bar early and got a good night’s sleep. He flew the geyser tour, a one-hour narrated flight, and was waiting at ten a.m. when a tough-looking, rangy dude with a knockout girlfriend approached the office and asked for him by name. “I’m Nash,” he said. “But if you’re looking for a flight, I’m booked this morning.”

  “Joe Ferguson, and this is Dani Jardine. Ben Comstock sent us. He can’t make it—he hurt his knee and is having it looked at this morning. Said he told you where to fly us in the Arrow Roots to search for the horses.”

  “Horses?”

  “That’s right,” Dani Jardine said. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup. Didn’t need any. She was a natural beauty. She had some expensive digital camera equipment slung over her shoulder and was wearing a pair of sexy mirrored sunglasses. “Wild horses. Four were shot in that high valley by the forest service camp, along with a domestic quarter horse mare. You probably heard about it, I’m sure it’s been in the news.”

  Nash shook his head. “Nope, haven’t heard a thing.”

  “Four other horses managed to escape by running up into the pass. The snow’s still deep in the higher elevations and Jessie Weaver’s afraid they might have gotten bogged down. They’re pregnant mares.”

  “Do they belong to Jessie?” Nash asked. Jessie Weaver was somewhat legendary in Park County.

  “No. We think they’re a small band that may have strayed from the Pryor Mountains. We’re hoping you can locate them for us.”

  “Don’t worry. If they’re up there, I’ll find them,” Nash said. He fed a stick of gum into his mouth and nodded to the chopper on the tarmac behind him. “It’s kind of bumpy today. Hope you two don’t get airsick. I’m all out of barf bags. Passengers used ’em up on the last ride.”

  * * *

  DANI HAD NEVER ridden in a helicopter before, and Nash’s words and the borderline malicious grin that had accompanied them had done nothing to ease her anxieties. She strapped herself into a window seat in the back, adjusting the belt tightly. Joe sat up front with the pilot, who had pulled on his aviator glasses as he did his preflight check. He wore a headset over his ball cap and was talking into the mic. She checked her camera gear while the chopper’s engine warmed up and tried not to think about her irrational fear of flying, and how her airline pilot boyfriend, Jack, used to tease her about it. “I don’t like not being in control,” she’d repeatedly told him.

  “What’s that?” Joe said, turning in his seat.

  Dani flushed. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

  “Relax,” Joe said with a grin. “This is going to be fun.”

  Dani realized she must be wearing her anxiety like a flashing neon sign and forced a smile. “I’m just worried about the horses, that’s all. I hope they’re okay. I don’t want to see any more dead mustangs.”

  Within minutes they were airborne, and within several more minutes it was obvious to Dani that Nash knew what he was doing, which helped settle her nerves. The scenery helped, as well. It was hard to think about crashing and burning while she scanned the landscape beneath them. The Gallatin National Forest and the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness were a spectacular backdrop to the snowcapped mountain ranges that soared into a deep blue sky. Dani had hiked many of these mountains, but she’d never flown over them like this, up close and personal. Nash narrated as he flew; it was part of his job giving the tours, and he seemed to enjoy sharing his knowledge and history of the area.

  “We’re flying over the boundary of the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness Area, where it abuts the Gallatin National Forest,” he narrated. “To your left you’ll see the river that runs through the Bow and Arrow, which is just beyond the park boundaries and not all that far from Hershel Bonner’s place. It’s not impossible that these wild horses you’re looking for have been hidden in these valleys for generations and could be related to Jessie Weaver’s herd. It’s a wild area with lots of canyons and valleys that are hard to access. The Arrow Roots are part of the Absaroka, which are dead ahead, just south of the Livingston Road. The Absaroka Range isn’t as harsh as the Beartooth so there’s more vegetation, more wildlife. This was Crow country—they called themselves the Absaroka—and I doubt a prettier piece of America exists than what we’re looking at right now.”

  The chopper rode on the turbulent air currents as they climbed over the mountains. Dani braced one hand against the roof as the chopper dropped into a bottomless pit, then clamped her camera between her knees to remove the lens cap. High winds, updrafts and downdrafts buffeted the chopper and made it difficult for her to steady the camera for a few shots of the highest peak as Nash narrated the geography unfolding beneath them. “South Pass coming up,” she heard him say. “Those tiny buildings to the north are Hershel Bonner’s place. We’re climbing into the valley where you saw the dead horses...” Dani lowered the camera and tried to identify the valley. “There’s the old ranger’s cabin,” Nash said. Dani recognized the place where she’d camped so often and snapped a few aerial shots. “There’s your dead horses—what’s left of ’em.” The laconic narration continued as the chopper descended for a better look.

  The dark carcasses were sprawled against the greening grass of the high meadow and the brightening spangle of wildflowers blooming in shades of yellow, blue and white, creating a startlingly beautiful backdrop to the gruesome scene of the slaughter. They soon left the meadow behind and the chopper ascended into the pass, circling as it gained altitude so that the buffeting up and down and the circling motion began to affect Dani’s equilibrium. She tried to concentrate on taking photos, on searching for the missing mares, but it became increasingly difficult. “Lotta snow up here still,” she heard Nash say as she struggled with increasing nausea. “I can see where the horses came up through the pass. See those dark smudges? Those are deep shadows made by their tracks.”

  “I see them,” Joe said. “Dani?”

  “I see them,” she said, blinking the sting of cold sweat from her eyes and swallowing a mouthful of saliva.

  They climbed higher and then she heard Nash say, “I’ll be damned, somehow they made it through. Look at that, the snow must be chest-deep through there. They could’ve turned around and come back into the valley, but didn’t. We’ll see if they made it down the other side, but it’s damned rough country through there. Wilder’n hell and lots of creeks to cross.”

  The chopper was being tossed around like a toy in the mountain updrafts. Dani figured it was only a matter of time before they crashed. She drew deep breaths, determined not to throw up, and braced herself, camera in her lap. There was no hope of getting a photo that wasn’t blurred in turbulence this severe. She watched the dizzying mountain landscape blur past her window. Snow, rocks, granite ledges, snow. Then she saw the tops of trees and a few minutes later she heard Nash say, “Well, their tracks go into the tree line down there, so I have to guess they’re okay. Tough horses, those mustangs. Let’s see if we can find them in one of these valleys.”

  The turbulence lessened as they descended onto the
forested flanks and flew over high valleys lush with grass and sprinkled with spring wildflowers. Creeks were ribbons of dark laced with the frothy white of rapids. “Hey, would you look at that!” she heard Nash say. “Three o’clock. Four horses in that meadow, running for cover. I’ll get you a good photo angle.”

  Nash maneuvered the chopper and Dani barely had time to snap a photo before the horses vanished into the trees. Joe turned to catch her eye. He looked excited. “Did you see them?”

  A nod was all she could manage.

  “Well, they’re safe for now. Nobody’s going to be climbing up here to shoot at ’em,” Nash said with an abrupt laugh. “They don’t like the sound of choppers much. That’s what the BLM uses to round ’em up every year.”

  The rest of the flight was less turbulent. Nash took them back to the airfield by skirting the high passes and flying them over the Bow and Arrow at a high enough elevation not to disturb the buffalo. He showed them the lay of the land on the northern and western edge of the Absarokas, the high places where the buffalo calved, the broad, low plateaus along the river where the graze was good. “This is all part of the Bow and Arrow,” he said. The size and beauty of the historic ranch was impressive.

  Dani saw the four tiny buildings of Katy Junction, the dirt road that headed west toward Bozeman and Gardiner. She sat back in her seat and wiped the cold sweat from her face. Her heart was still beating fast and her stomach was still roiling, but she was relieved that Custer’s four mares, the survivors of his little band, were still alive.

  Back at the airfield, Joe had to help her out of the chopper. Her knees were weak and she was pretty sure she didn’t resemble the dashingly beautiful Amelia Earhart. Nash pushed his aviator shades onto his head and shook her hand with a grin that was genuinely friendly. “You did all right,” he told her as he handed her his card. “That was a rough flight. Any time you want another bird’s-eye view of the Rockies, you let me know.”