Rocky Mountain Justice (The Legend of Camel's Hump) (17 page)

Wayne smiled as he watched them go out the door. They were a dangerous-looking group of men; a group that hade obviously been hand-picked. He recognized a couple of them from their days as reservation basketball and baseball stars. Their ages ranged from the mid-twenties to the late forties. Most of them were World War Two veterans. He suddenly felt a chill as a thought crossed his mind; “
God, I’d hate to be Ike or the sheriff when this bunch gets to Dublin!”

George headed East at full speed. He had Highway 10 under his wheels and the road was ready for him. In just a couple of hours, he was in Missoula where he took Dawn’s rolls of film to the official Kodak Film Development Shop just down the street from the Mercantile. He paid extra to have the film developed overnight, telling the developer that he would be back tomorrow for the pictures. Leaving there, he headed for a public telephone exchange, a business that had a room full of public telephone booths that could be used for a price. He entered, got on a phone, and asked the operator to forward his call to his friend in the Attorney General’s office.

It turned out to be a bit harder to get his call through than he’d expected. He found that only one operator was working today at the Attorney General’s office. George had to leave a message with her and then wait until his friend, Bill, called back. Naturally this tied up the line at the telephone exchange and George ran up a huge bill, but finally the two were connected. After the old-war-buddy-amenities were over, George told enough of the story to get Bill interested. Then George told him that he was on his way to Helena and asked him if he could get a meeting together with whoever he thought was appropriate. Bill asked a few more questions and then agreed to have the meeting scheduled for 9 AM the next morning. George hung up and started on the long drive to Helena.

He spent the night in an old hotel deep in Helena’s famous Last Chance Gulch, close to the state capital buildings. George drove around a bit to familiarize himself with the area and the available parking. When he felt that he knew where he had to go the next morning, he went back to the hotel and was soon asleep. It had been a very long day.

The next morning, he was up at the crack of dawn. He found a restaurant, had a big breakfast and read the Helena newspaper. Finally the time came and he headed for the capital. Since the legislature wasn’t in session, he found parking immediately and was a bit early when he walked into the office that Bill shared with several other attorneys. Bill greeted him with a loud, “Yo! It’s an old Jarhead!” that was yelled across the room causing heads to turn. He came charging at George and enveloped him in a huge bear hug. He was even bigger than George, but he had obviously been behind a desk for a while and his expanded waistline made him appear absolutely huge.

Bill led George to a small conference room that he had reserved for the occasion. The two stopped on the way to get coffee and then took seats in the room. Bill had invited several people, but they were not scheduled for a few minutes, so the two spent the time reminiscing and bringing each other up to speed on their lives in the recent past.

Soon the room began to fill up. After about ten minutes, Bill called the meeting to order. George looked around and found that there were four people, plus himself and Bill, in the room. Bill opened the meeting by having everyone introduce themselves and George found that there were two people from the State Highway Patrol’s administrative staff and two from state bureaus that George had never heard of before.

When the introductions were complete, Bill asked George to tell his story. George took a long breath and started with, “My name again is George Parker. I’m from the community of Dublin out west of here. We have a problem out there that we need help with, so I’ve come to you.” At that point, he was interrupted by one of the bureau people. “Why are you here? If you want help there’s a chain-of-command and I don’t see any law enforcement people with you.” George was caught off guard, “I don’t know how much you know about our problem, but if you wait for me to tell my story, you’ll understand why I’m here by myself.” At that the man appeared very annoyed and turned to Bill. “This guy may be one of your Marine Buddies, but we don’t have time to sit around listening to the little pet peeves of everyone in the state. Why are we here?”

Bill’s face was flushed now and he spoke in measured tones, obviously holding his true thoughts in check. “I invited you as a courtesy. I think this is important. But if you are too busy to listen for a few minutes to an honorable man, you are welcome to leave now.” The man half rose, but his partner grabbed his arm and signaled him to sit. It took a minute, but he finally sat back down, glaring at everyone around the table. While this was playing out, another man came into the room and took a seat against the wall, stretching his legs out and appearing to relax.

George resumed his story, with the antagonistic man interrupting several times with comments and questions that seemed designed to throw George off-stride. Bill tried to help, but the man doing the interrupting was senior to him, a fact that he pointed out when Bill asked him to please let the story go on. George tried to continue, but when he got to the part about the girl in the stone building, the man interrupted again. “Is that why we are here? There’s some red-skinned prisoner being held by the sheriff? She probably broke every law in the book and - -.” This time, he was the one that was interrupted. The man setting at the back of the room stood up and, in a deep voice that commanded immediate attention, said, “Enough. From what I’ve heard, this is my concern, not yours. The person in question is apparently an Indian and its possible that this is a kidnapping. Either one of those facts is enough to make this a federal Investigation. I’m with the FBI.”

He walked to the head of the table and turned to look at them. He gestured at George and Bill. “I’m going to let ask that you two and the Highway Patrol people stay here. The rest of you can leave. But I will warn you that any mention of what you heard here is forbidden. If I hear that a single hint of anything related to this meeting gets to anyone outside of this group, I will charge you with interfering with a Federal Investigation. Is that understood?” He was looking directly at the man who had been so disruptive, a man that now looked thoroughly cowed. “Yes Sir.” The disruptive man and his coworker left the room.

The FBI Agent took a seat at the table and pulled a notebook out of his briefcase. Then he turned to George and smiled a friendly smile. “Please, start over at the beginning. I’m not sure that I got the details with all of those interruptions.” George smiled back at the man and started the story again. There were no interruptions this time. The agent and both highway patrol people took notes, scribbling page after page as George talked. When the story was over, they fired questions at George. Some of them he could answer, others he couldn’t.

Finally the agent sat back in his chair and said, “I’ve got the picture, I think. I need to look at some missing person files back at the office. That name, Annette, rings a bell with me, but I don’t remember why. I’ll need a day or so to get everything together. Then I’d like to come out to Dublin. When I get there, can you show me around, George? Also, I’d like to talk to these kids that have been involved. Can you set that up for me?” George agreed quickly, “Certainly. Anything we can do to help, we will be happy to do.” The agent turned to the two men from the highway patrol staff. “Can you provide me with a plain clothes guy to go with me? I’m a one-man show and I don’t like to be outgunned.” Their answer came immediately, “Absolutely. When do you want him?” The agent thought about this and then said, “I’ll give you a call. I want to do some research before we leave and I need enough time to do my homework. George, can you stay close to home so that I can find you when we get there?” George grinned and held out his hand, “Sounds great. You don’t know what a relief it is to hear that you’re willing to help with this.” The agent shook his hand, saying, “That’s my job, my friend. By the way, my name is Ryan, Joe Ryan. I’ll see you later in the week.

With that, Agent Ryan and the two men from the highway patrol left. George noticed that they stopped in the hallway and had a long conversation before they left the building. But, he thought, that was normal. They needed to discuss their game plan. He didn’t mind missing that part of the conversation at all. He and Bill had another cup of coffee and talked about what they had just seen. Bill’s first comment was, “I know that I’m going to hear about inviting the FBI, but it was the only way. If I’d left this with those damned desk jockeys, nothing would’ve happened and your sheriff would’ve been warned off. They don’t like having their comfortable little boats rocked. This way something will get done – and they’re entirely too afraid of the FBI to warn the sheriff.” George nodded, “I understand, but I’m sure glad that I don’t have to work here. I couldn’t put up with people like that.” At this a grim smile crossed Bill’s face. “Sometimes it can actually be fun. It’s easy for a normal horse to stand out and be recognized if it’s in a field full of Shetland ponies.” George laughed and they traded a few war stories before he said his goodbyes and headed for Dublin.

He stopped in Missoula and picked up Dawn’s pictures. They were appalling. He’d heard the story and he’d told the story, but until he saw the pictures, the magnitude of what had been happening on the sheep ranch hadn’t hit home for him. He sat in the pickup looking at pictures of Annette’s bloody face; seeing pictures of a girl being whipped by Bird as she worked in the garden; seeing pictures of the new girl being dragged across the yard with her shirt unbuttoned and her pants half off.

For the first time in many years, big George Parker broke down and wept.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:

A Legend is Born

 
J
erry stood behind his barricade, looking down on the two automobiles moving slowly toward him. His mind was moving faster than ever before. He could run down and warn Ray and Dawn, but that might lead to a confrontation when the sheriff arrived. He could stay where he was and hope the sheriff would just look around and leave. But if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to help if his friends had a problem with the sheriff. Finally he decided to go down the hill and hide just above the parking spot, where he could see and hear everything, but remain hidden behind the boulders that lined the hillside. The decision made, he began working his way down the hill, careful to keep out of sight from the approaching vehicles.

He found a spot in a hollow about twenty feet up the hill and slid into it just as his old Ford coupe came into sight. He moved around to where he had a commanding view of the parking area, checked his rifle to make sure that it was ready if needed, and settled in to wait.

The coupe pulled up below him and stopped. The motor coughed once, was silent for a moment, then backfired with a loud “Bang”. Jerry grinned, recognizing the signature sound of his beloved old Ford. Dawn was first out of the car, calling loudly, “Jerry! Jerry! Where are you?” A short wait, then again, “Jerry! Jerry! Are you here?” Ray got out of the car and added his voice to the call. Jerry didn’t move.

Ray and Dawn started down the walkway toward the cabin, still calling for Jerry. Then suddenly they stopped and turned back toward the road. They had heard the growl of the Patrol Car’s big engine, but they couldn’t see it yet. Jerry watched them as they talked excitedly to each other, but he still didn’t move.

The sheriff’s car finally broke through the dust and began to slow as it pulled toward the parking spot. Ray and Dawn began walking toward the coupe, obviously planning to get in the car and leave. They were opening the coupe’s doors when the sheriff parked directly behind them, effectively blocking their escape. Sheriff Montgomery stepped out of his car, raising his voice to give them crisp orders, “Hold it, you two! Just get away from that car. You ain’t going anyplace.” The two teenagers stepped back and closed the car doors, with Ray saying, “Well hello, Sheriff. Can we help you with anything?” Dawn watched, saying nothing. The sheriff responded with, “Where’s that Flynn kid – and I don’t want any bullshit from you. I’ll run you in for aiding and abetting a fugitive, if I don’t hear the truth right now.” It was Dawn that responded. “We don’t know, Sheriff. We thought he might be up here, but no one is around. That’s the truth.” Jerry looked down at this and smiled. “
She’s a quick thinker all right.”

But Sheriff Montgomery wasn’t buying it. “C’mere Kid” he said to Ray, motioning for the teen to move closer to him. Ray took a few tentative steps, saying, “What do you want, Sheriff?” He stopped, still a good twenty feet from the sheriff. He remembered the story of how Jerry had been beaten by the big man in front of him and he didn’t want to get too close. The sheriff bellowed, “Get over here now!” He drew his revolver and pointed it at the scared boy. Ray came closer and then stopped again. The sheriff pointed the gun at Ray’s face and, in a low, deadly voice, said, “Where is Jerry Flynn, you little shit? Don’t even try to lie to me again!” Ray’s reply was hesitant, his voice quavering, “I really don’t know, Sheriff. He wasn’t here when we got here.”