Headley shut his office door and pinned up a map with the sites where dogs had died or wildlife carcasses were found. Then he pulled down a roller map with grazing allotment boundaries marked. "Notice anything?" he asked.
Jet spoke up. "They're just outside the boundaries of those two allotments: Muddy Ridge and Irish Canyon. Like somebody scattered poison baits but didn't want to lose any of his own dogs."
"Right. We all know who grazes those allotments. There've been problems with poison before, but nothing on this scale. Carricaburra lost two Great Pyrenees guard dogs worth about $2500 each, along with five border collies. He's madder than I've ever seen him. And they're cousins."
"Just thought of something," Mary said. "When I was bushwhacking from the Lowline Trail back to the Opening, I saw Ray Echeverry riding northwest from Johnson Lake with a couple salt sacks tied behind his saddle. He seemed really nervous. We were friends in school, but he wouldn't talk to me."
"He was probably packing the baits out to the herders," Boswick said. "Or he might have spread them himself. One thing's for sure. If we question him, or his dad, or any of that bunch, they'll lie. Blame it on Gaston or Jimmy. Or that poor dead Trapper. Or Earth First! Then the Old Man will call up the Gov and raise hell."
"What was the poison?" Jet asked. "Strychnine?"
"Nope— 1080."
"Jeez! That's been illegal for almost twenty years." Jet said. "Not supposed to be able to get it, except in those sheep collars."
"It's nasty. If an animal eats it, the carcass will kill any scavengers, and so on."
"I saw a dead coyote," Harv said, "with about ten dead ravens around it. Too many to bring in. So I buried 'em."
"Better to burn 'em. Take some diesel next time. Just don't start a damn forest fire."
Headley stood up. "Before you go, a couple things: Don't report this sort of thing on the radio. I think the Old Man has a scanner in his truck that picks up the Forest frequency. Don't try to question anyone, let alone bring them in. We have to keep the lid on until they get indictments. That's gonna be a while. Take written notes, use rubber gloves, and bag the samples, no photos unless you're sure you won't be seen."
"Fish and Wildlife Service is on it. We need to keep out of their way. It might be hard for a while. I feel like not only dragging the bastards to jail, but beating the crap out of them on the way. But we can't give in. Agreed?"
Everyone nodded.
YOU ARE READING
Sowing on the Mountain
Mystery / ThrillerA Consolata Mary Browne mystery, the second in a series. (To get the most out of it, first read The Feral Strut, which establishes the main characters and background.) After her near-fatal encounter with a grizzly bear, Mary goes to college in Sa...