Sowing on the Mountain

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She woke up staring at Slim's bare foot. She lifted her head and wished she hadn't. Oooch! What time is it? I'm supposed to start work. Slim started to snore, so she blew on his toes.

"JEEEZUS CHRIST!" He flew out of bed and stood there in a defensive crouch. "What did you do?"

"I blew on your toes," she said, with what is commonly known as a shit-eating grin. "I guess you're sensitive there. Among other places."

"Do you remember last night?" he said.

"Mostly. Until we threw the mattresses on the floor. After that it's a blur."

She lit a burner on the stove and put on water for coffee. He went outside naked to pee, with Gris, who barked. Slim ducked in. "There's a guy with a Forest Service truck down there unloading horses."

"Probably Harv. He's on the same schedule as I am. We'd better get dressed. He'll be up here pretty quick to find out who has the buff red pickup."

They struggled into their clothes and she handed him a mug of coffee, and took a slow sip of hers, murmuring.

"Just wanted to say," Slim said.

"Speak up."

"I think it's okay if you drink wine. But maybe not so much."

"No argument on that score. My head feels like a bag of hammers."

"Doesn't look like one," he said, and kissed her on the cheek.

A knock at the door. She let Harv in. He stared at the two mattresses on the floor and blushed. "Coffee?" she said.

"Sure. Thanks." She poured a mug and then nudged Slim to help her put the mattresses back on the bunks. That gave them room to sit.

"This is my fiance, Slim Tamblin. He's undersheriff in Jackson."

Harv perked up at that. "You must have some stories," he said.

"Lots. But maybe later. Mary has to get packed up for work. And I'm driving back to the Hole. Did you see that Trapper guy anywhere this morning?"

"He was in his rig parked by the road just down from the Opening. I waved and he didn't wave back. So I kept on going."

"Do you know him?"

"Not really. He's always scrounging around— damn guy'll eat anything. Roadkill. One time a lamb drowned in the river and he dragged it off and butchered it. Pablo went looking for it and followed the drag track. Trapper threatened to shoot him, so he backed off. He's crazy. Some kind of vet thing from 'Nam. Tells stories about cutting off fingers and nailing playing cards on the foreheads of dead gooks."

Both Slim and Mary flinched, but Harv didn't notice.

"He's lying," Mary said. "He was never in Vietnam. Arlene got his real name, Arvin Talbott, and they did a background check when they hired him as caretaker. No service record."

Harv was shocked. His mouth opened but nothing came out.

"I saw him loading up a dead doe down by where he's parked. He tried to tell me it was roadkill, but there was a bullet wound in the ribs."

Harv looked at the floor. "You gotta be careful around that guy. He threatened Normie and he told me if he saw me near his cabin, he'd shoot me out of the saddle."

"Sounds like he ought to be locked up," Slim said.

"That might take some doing," Harv said. "He has a bunch of weapons— always packing an AR-15 and a pistol and a couple knives. Normie said he had some kind of stubby black machine gun— sounds like an Uzi."

"That's not legal without a special license."

"Who's gonna search the place? They say he has it wired up to blow. The deputies are scared of the guy, too."

Slim scribbled in his notebook.

"Are you the guy who caught that bomber, up in Jackson?" Harv asked.

"Didn't catch him. A bear did. He was trying to kill Mary."

"That was you?" Harv said, looking at her, eyes round. "I read about it, but didn't put it together. I want to shake your hand."

He thrust out his hand and she shook it. Then Slim did, with a wry look.

Slim changed to his law-enforcement expression. "What with the poaching and the threats, I think we need to keep an eye on Trapper."

"Breakfast?" Mary asked.

"More coffee and I'll hit the road. I want to run some checks on that guy." He went out to the truck and fetched his insulated mug.

"I'd better saddle up. Riding to Big Sandy Lake," Harv said. Mary told him about the dirty camp by Diamond Lake. "Got it," he said, and clomped out.

Slim filled his mug. "Does he always pack that revolver?" Slim asked.

"On the job. He says if his horse breaks a leg, he needs to be able to put it out of its misery."

"Typical," Slim said, and kissed her goodbye.