Sowing on the Mountain

≈ 17 ≈

Jet should be starting his hitch. But his horses weren't in the pasture at the shack and the stockrack pickup wasn't parked there or at the trailhead. She pulled into the Dutch Joe road and parked by the gate. She knew the tread on the stockrack's tires— tracks went in through the gate but not out, so he must be there. The truck was parked by the horse barn and Jet had a horse tied up and was hanging on to its hoof as it hopped and snorted.

"Hold still, you rank son of a bitch!" He saw her and let go of the hoof. "Doggone horse is packing a foot and I can't figure out why. Can't take him in to Cross Lake if he's lame. What's up?"

"I drove out that scratch road just down from the Opening and found Trapper loading a dead deer into his rig."

"Did he see you?"

"Yeah. He came over and tried to tell me it was roadkill. As if anyone could manage to hit a deer on a bad dirt road where you can't drive five miles an hour. Besides, there was a bullethole in the deer."

"Damn guy! Too late to catch 'im now. He'll stash that deer someplace and clean everything up. Look— could you report it to the Game and Fish in town? Chess Headley's the warden who's been watching Trapper. Good guy. I've gotta figure out what the deal is with this damn horse and then maybe catch one of Harv's horses to use for my patrol."

"I can do that. Wish I'd thought to snap a photo."

"If he saw you do that, you might be in deep shit."

"I might be anyhow. I'll have to sign a statement or maybe testify in court."

"Just watch yourself. Call me on the radio and let me know what happens. After hours— let's say around nine. Instead of my name just say Patrol Cabin. The office doesn't monitor the radio at night, but the Sheriff's dispatch keeps a log of Forest radio calls and takes care of emergencies."

"Cloak and dagger? What's up with that?"

"Glory— the Head Clerk— checks the night radio logs. I saw her drinking with Trapper at Stockman's. She might tip him off or something."

"Seriously? Why do they call her Glory?"

"That's her name. Gloria Hotchkiss. Isn't she a sweetheart?"

Mary laughed. "Okay– I have to make tracks for town. You take care." He didn't notice the ring.

She stopped at the Game and Fish Dept. office. The receptionist checked her register and said that Warden Headley was in the field, but she could leave him a note. She said she'd type it up at the Forest Service office and drop it by later. She parked the Saab under some cottonwoods for shade, and set a bowl of water inside for Gris, then clocked in, filled out her timesheet, and typed up a brief report for Sexton, not mentioning the deer thing.

Then she rolled in a fresh sheet and typed up a report for the warden, Chess— that would be Chester? She looked him up in the telephone book. Headley, Chester D.

She had no idea what Trapper's real name might be. She added her name and FS title, and said that she'd be in Jackson for the next five days. For a contact, she added the phone number for Ginger's condo, which had an answering machine.

As she was driving out of Pinedale, she thought: Why didn't I just use Slim's number at the Sheriff's Office? He's definitely going to hear about this.