Rocky Mountain Justice (The Legend of Camel's Hump) (19 page)

They were in this position when the first screams came from the house. He felt her stiffen and she pulled away slightly. “What’s that?” He was matter-of-fact in his quiet reply. “Just Ike, I expect. Don’t worry about him.” Another scream broke the silence and she pulled back further, “Please, Don’t kill him. He isn’t worth the problems that would bring to the tribe.” John grinned, a tight grimace that revealed his hatred of the man in the house. “Don’t worry. We ain’t gonna kill the bastard. We have other plans for him.” Sara considered this and then another horrible scream pierced the air. “Then what are they doing to him?” He replied in a reassuring tone, “We’re just making sure that he can’t ever treat another human being the way you were treated.” She thought about this for a moment and then nodded. “Good. Thank you!” Then she snuggled close to him like the little girl that she still was.

It was about a half-hour later that the war party reassembled at the bus. They had to carry Ike, who they threw across the rear seats. He was moaning and was obviously in pain, but the group ignored him entirely. Leaving two men to guard Ike, they turned to John for direction. He thought for a moment. “Before we can leave, we need to do some housework. Please go to everywhere you’ve been and clean everything that you may have touched with your bare hands. Make sure that you clean all the shovel handles and tools. We don’t want any fingerprints anywhere. A couple of you get branches and wipe out our tracks. Mop up any tracks in the house, if you can find a mop in this pigsty. Wipe off anything that you may have touched.”

He made sure they understood their task before continuing. “Two of us are taking the pickup to Dublin to see if we can find the sheriff.” Then, waving his arm in the general direction of the pickup, he said, “We have to get these people back to the reservation so they can be properly buried. While we’re in Dublin, I’ll stop by and thank our friends there. If we aren’t back in an hour, you’re to get in the bus and leave this place. Get back on Highway 10 and head toward Missoula. If we aren’t with you by then, we’ll probably be right behind you. But if I haven’t caught up with you before you get there, turn north at the “Y” and get on the road to the reservation. In about three or four miles, you’ll come to a long hill. There’s a wide spot at the bottom of the hill that we’ll use as a meeting spot. Stop there and wait for us. We’ll meet you there.”

John turned toward the pickup, then stopped and turned back to face them, saying, “Whoa, I almost forgot. There may be a bunch of Apache’s at the meeting place. They’re friends, so don’t start anything. They are going to be asking for Annette’s body. Please tell them that we are bringing it with us and ask them to wait for me if I’m not there by then.” He laughed aloud at the bewildered looks on their faces as he turned to climb into the pickup.

The men went about their tasks with eagerness, paying a great deal of attention to detail. After about an hour, the entire place was scrubbed to a state of cleanliness that it hadn’t seen in many years. Then they washed out Ike’s pickup, wiping clean the inside of the cab. By now it was almost dark.

The men trooped to a spot where a bucket of water and some washcloths had been set aside. Joking with one another, they scrubbed their faces until no trace of the war paint could be seen. Then, without a look back, the group climbed into the bus and headed east toward the planned rendezvous spot.

Big George had a crowd in his home. His wife, Ida, was making sure that everyone was comfortable. She and Hilda Moore had cooked a chicken dinner earlier in the day and the group had eaten. Little Red had let Otto know that something big was happening and they had come over after dinner. Wayne Flynn and George had sworn everyone to secrecy and had then briefed them on the happenings of the past few days. Now they were all waiting anxiously to see what would happen next. They exchanged small talk, but everyone’s mind was on the Feds and the Indian war party. Where were they? Were they actually going to show up? What would happen when they did arrive?

It was early evening when a stranger’s heavily-loaded pickup drove up to George’s yard and parked beside Wayne’s truck. Hilda Moore was idly looking out the front window when it pulled up. Her startled gasp, made everyone look. George was the first one to find words, “Holy Shit! Look at this!” Then everyone started talking at once. The pair that had emerged from the vehicle and were walking up the front path were the strangest sight seen in Dublin for many years. They were Indian warriors, completely outfitted to look the role, right down to the war paint on their faces.

Wayne was the first to the door, jerking it open and telling the approaching apparitions, “Hurry up! Get in here!” The two jogged the last few steps and Wayne slammed the door behind them. John looked at him quizzically, “What’s wrong, Wayne? It’s just us. Don’t see that it much matters if people see us, does it?” Wayne just reached out and rubbed the war paint with his index finger holding it up to show John what was on it.” John took one look and started laughing, “Dammit! All that work we went to, cleaning everything up. And we completely forgot the paint! We must be getting used to it!” He was actually laughing so hard that he had trouble getting the words out. The laugh was infectious and the people crowded around him caught it. Soon the whole crowd was laughing uncontrollably at the strange sight of the two men who had forgotten to take their makeup off.

When the laughter died down, John asked the question that was foremost in his mind. “Do any of you know where Sheriff Montgomery is today? I’d like to see him before I scrub this stuff off of me.” No one answered for a minute and then Otto said, “He came through town this morning. I thought he was out at Ike’s. If he isn’t there, I don’t know.” No one had any other ideas, so John looked around and found the two women in the room. He said, “Well, I guess the sheriff will have to wait for another day.” Then he asked the ladies, “Would you mind if we use your kitchen to clean up a bit? Then I’ll bring you up to speed on what we’ve been doing.” Ida replied, “Certainly. Right this way.”

John found Wayne with his eyes and nodded toward the kitchen. Wayne followed as Ida led the two warriors into the kitchen and watched over them as they used dishwashing detergent to scrub the war paint. When they were free of the paint, John turned to Wayne and asked, “Can I speak freely here? I don’t know everyone and I’ve got some things to say that can never be repeated.” Wayne just nodded, saying, “You can. These are friends.” That was enough for John. They moved back into the living room where John addressed the anxious group. “I asked Wayne to vouch for you and he did that. But I want to caution you, what I am going to tell you can never be repeated. Does everyone understand that?”

When everyone had answered in the affirmative, John launched into the story. He started with Wayne’s visit to the reservation and then brought them through their arrival at the sheep ranch, the rescue of Sara, and the unearthing of the six bodies. When he got to that point, the crowd was totally shocked and stopped him to ask questions. When he had answered them to the best of his ability, he continued with the story. The listeners stayed very quiet after that, stunned by the extent of the villainy that had been happening just outside their little town.

Finally John finished with, “That’s about it. Do any of you have questions?” It was little Red that asked the question all of them wanted to ask, but didn’t because they really didn’t want to hear the answer, “What about Ike?” John’s eyes scanned the group somberly. Then he asked, “Do you really want to know?” There was a long moment while everyone looked at one another. It was Ida that broke the silence with, “Yes. We are in this far. We need to know everything.” There was general agreement from the group.

John took a deep breath and began, “OK then, I’ll tell you the rest of the plan. As you know, we just dug up the bodies of six women. Wayne had told me that a girl named Annette had been on the ranch, so I looked her up in my Missing Persons Files. I found that there was a girl named Annette on the missing list and she matched the description.”

He continued, speaking slowly, as if he wanted to make sure that everyone clearly understood him, “Annette was a Chiricahua Apache from the San Carlos Reservation down in Arizona. The Chiricahua’s homeland includes their reservation as well as some desert territory in the northern part of Mexico.”

John paused to let this sink in and then continued, “When I realized that Annette was from there, I called San Carlos. To make a long story short, there’ll be a bunch of Apaches meeting us in Missoula on our way home. They’ll take Annette’s body off our hands there. They’ll also take custody of Ike. They think that he may be useful in helping their women do some desert farming down in their Mexican homeland. They tell me that they don’t have any problem keeping a volunteer laborer busy down there and they have ways of making sure that he is an eager volunteer every single day.”

Once again, John paused. Then, “It looks like Ike will live out his days as an overweight man with a very high-pitched voice. He’ll be working as a field hand for to a group of Apache women in the Mexican desert. I thought that this was a good solution to the Ike problem. Don’t you agree?”

There was a stunned silence from the group, finally broken by Otto. “Mein Gott. That’s poetic justice if ever I have heard it!”

The silence was broken again by yelling from the yard. Everyone turned to see what was happening and bedlam ensued. Dawn was in the yard with the sheriff’s car and she was trying to unload a body from the back seat! As she worked, she was screaming for help. Every one in the house seemed to hit the door at the same time, squeezing past one another in their haste to get to her. John had been standing nearest to the door and he reached her first, taking over the load of the inert body. John immediately recognized it as that of a badly wounded boy. Wayne was right behind him, grabbing the boy’s feet and the two men moved carefully toward the house with Wayne shouting ahead for Hilda and Ida to get water and bandages ready.

Ida led the men to the bedroom where they carefully laid the boy on the big master bed. Hilda was right behind with water and rags. Using scissors, they cut away the boy’s clothing and began working. As they worked, George asked his daughter, “What the hell happened? Who did this and why are you driving the sheriff’s patrol car?” Dawn was sobbing and obviously more interested in the wounded boy than anything else. “Ray and I went to Flynn Lake to see if we could find Jerry. The sheriff must have followed us ‘cause he showed up a few minutes after us. He didn’t even try to talk to us. He shot Ray first. Ray didn’t even have a gun with him. Then he shot Jerry. Then he shot Ray again, even though Ray wasn’t doing anything. When he started shooting, I ducked behind the cars and ran a little way. Then he started hunting for me.” She stopped talking and sobbed more loudly. George asked, “What happened then? Where’s the sheriff now?” Dawn’s legs went weak and she sat heavily on the couch before looking up. “Daddy, I killed him.” She stopped for a moment and the room went dead silent. She spoke again, so softly that it was hard to hear. “I did it. I killed the son-of-a-bitch!”

The room erupted, with everyone talking at once. If they had been looking, they would have seen John and his friend quietly leave, their job now complete. But no one was looking.

The bedlam only lasted a minute before Ida came to the bedroom door and yelled at them, “Shut up, Dammit! We are trying to save a life in here!” The room quieted instantly. In a subdued voice, George asked Dawn, “Where are they now? You only brought one back.” Her answer was almost impossible to understand through her sobbing, “up on the road to the mine. They’re beside Jerry’s Ford, almost to the cabin.” George was thinking fast as he answered her. “OK Dawn, Give me your pistol.” Wayne was helping the ladies with the wounded boy. With John gone, only Otto and Red were still unoccupied. George motioned to them, saying, “C’mon Fellas. We have to get a plan together and we’ve got work to do. We can talk on the way to the lake. We’ll take my pickup.” Without question, Otto and Red got in the pickup with George and they left, heading for Flynn Lake.

CHAPTER TWENTY:

The Law Arrives

F
BI Agent Ryan and a senior Montana Highway Patrolman rode from Helena to Big River in one car. On the way they decided to stop in Big River and see what they could learn from the sheriff’s office. They devised a cover story that they were in the area searching for a runaway child.

They stopped at the jail in Big River where they found that the sheriff was on the road and unavailable. Since they were there, they asked one of the deputy sheriffs if there were any active cases working in the area. The unsuspecting deputy gave them a full briefing on the “Moore-Flynn Arson Case”, which he said was the only active investigation in the county.

After leaving the jail, they realized that it was getting late in the day. They decided that, since they probably had a full day’s work ahead, they would start fresh in the morning. They rented a motel room and made plans to stay the night in Big River before heading for Dublin.