Back of Beyond (35 page)

Within a slit and blood-spattered double Ziploc bag was a crushed, half-empty pack of Marlboro Lights.

“D’Amato,” Cody said, “bless you for being a secret smoker.”

It was obvious one of the grizzlies had swiped the plastic bag with claws that sliced through the cigarettes to the skin below. Cody rooted through the pack, breathing in the sweet smell of powdered tobacco, and found three intact cigarettes. The longest one had a small smear of red on the side of it.

He looked at it for a second and conceded that yes, he was smoking a dead man’s last bloodstained cigarettes.

He lit up and sat back and inhaled, looking around for the bears, half expecting them to come barreling out of the forest like demons to rip his throat out while his defenses were down.

And he wasn’t sure it would be the worst way to go because at least it would be epic and quick.

*   *   *

He left the body of D’Amato
on the trail until he could figure out what to do with it. He had no rope to hang it, and it would be a matter of time before the bears came back. His camera was gone with Gipper.

Cody bushwhacked through the brush in the general direction his horse had run. As he shouldered through tree trunks and stepped over downed timber while smoking his cigarette, he felt it was getting lighter. He walked toward the light and within ten minutes stepped out of the trees into a small grassy clearing.

The satellite phone had a signal. He punched the number for the cell phone Larry had said to call. Reception was clear and he heard it ring on the other end. Four, five, six rings. No voice mail prompt. Cody let it ring, figuring Larry would eventually hear it and pick up.

While he waited he slowly pivoted in the meadow so he could keep his eyes out in every direction. He held the AR-15 muzzle down in his right hand. The safety was off. There were no signs of bears, or wolves, or his horse, or whomever had killed Tristan Glode, Russell, and D’Amato. And before them, the string of recovering alcoholics including Hank Winters.

*   *   *

Two minutes later, Cody was surprised
when he heard a click through his earpiece. Someone was on the other end.

“Larry?” Cody said.

Breathing.

“Larry, is that you?”

No other background sound. Just rhythmic breathing. Cody checked the display on his phone to make sure he dialed the correct number. He had. A phone rang somewhere in the background. It was a familiar ring.

“Who is this? Can you hear me?”

The breathing quieted and there was silence but the line was still open. Cody recognized the action as when someone places their hand over the microphone to muffle sound.

“Speak to me,” Cody said. “Say something. I’m calling on official police business.
This is an emergency.
”

After a beat, the line was disconnected.

Battling doubts and tendrils of cold fear rising up from his lower stomach, he punched in the numbers again. He did it deliberately, making sure he didn’t misdial.

The recorded message said the number was no longer available.

*   *   *

Cody lowered his handset and stared
into the sky. It hadn’t been Larry, he was sure of it. And it hadn’t been a stranger answering an unfamiliar phone, like if Larry had inadvertently left the phone unattended on his desk or at a restaurant.

Whoever answered kept quiet until Cody identified himself. Until Cody had spoken, revealing himself. As if he’d been waiting for the call for quite some time.

And the ring in the background—before it was muffled—was as familiar to him as the sound of his alarm clock. He knew it because it was how the obsolete phones rang in the Lewis and Clark County Sheriff’s Department headquarters.

*   *   *

Deep in the timber, in the direction
of the trail, he heard a branch snap.

Cody kept the satellite phone on and clipped it back on his belt. He squinted toward the wall of trees to the east where the sound had come from.

There was the click of steel on rock, a distinctive sound. Then the snort of a horse.

Gipper?

Wrong direction,
Cody said to himself while raising the AR-15. He wished he had his gear because he very much wanted to replace the short magazine in his rifle with a thirty-rounder.

He heard the squeak of leather and another footfall. His mouth went dry.

A horse was coming. Maybe more than one. It was approaching in a deliberate manner that meant someone was in the saddle.

He lowered himself into a shooter’s stance and took a deep breath.

33

As Jed approached Camp Two walking
his horse behind him, the conversations stopped abruptly.

“My horse went lame,” he said. “I didn’t get very far on him before he pulled up hurt.”

“So you didn’t find them?” Knox asked, distressed.

“Didn’t get that far,” Jed said.

“Jesus,” Knox cried to the others, “is anything going to go right at some point?”

Jed knew he had to extricate himself and turn their attention to other matters. He thought,
Get out ahead of the situation and take over in the lead again
.

He was heartened that no one actually confronted him as he entered the camp. Although Dakota, Rachel Mina, and the girl Gracie seemed to view him with challenge and fear—fear was okay, challenge wasn’t—none of them said a word. Which meant they were ceding control of the situation to him, at least a little. He shot a glance at the dad. Angry fathers could be a force to themselves. He hadn’t expected Ted Sullivan to take him on and the man didn’t.

Whatever they’d been saying about him was suddenly off-limits now that he’d shown up. It used to bother him a little when he’d overhear his clients criticizing him or the decisions he made, but it didn’t anymore as long as it didn’t evolve into open revolt, which it never had. Jed understood how groups worked. A bunch of strangers thrown together sought common ground, and that common ground was often the outfitter who’d brought them together. He was the common denominator among clients of different social strata and interests. So in order to converse, they’d have to find something to either celebrate or bitch about, and that usually turned out to be him, one way or another.

Jed said to everyone, “Look, folks, I know you’re all worried about what’s going on. It’s crazy to have lost those people, and I’m damned sorry it happened. I’m also damned sorry I took off after them on a horse with a bad wheel.” He gestured toward his bay.

“What I need to ask you folks,” he said, “is to remain calm. Please remain calm. I can kind of tell there are all sorts of conspiracy tales flying around and all sorts of speculation. That’s natural. But you’re here in this fine camp with plenty of food and comfort. There’s no reason to be worried about anything.”

Knox stepped out from behind the kitchen setup. “Jed, I’m worried as hell about my friends. I wish I would have gone with you to find them.”

He said to Knox, “I’m going back after them but I’ve got to switch horses. I need a better mount.”

Suddenly, Rachel Mina asked, “What did you do to them?”

It felt as though a shard of glass had been shoved under his skin.

“Excuse me?” he said, still maintaining his smile.

Her eyes flashed. “I said what did you do to them? Tristan, Wilson, Drey, and Tony? Did you hurt them and leave them back there?”

Jed slowly removed his hat and stared at the inside of it. He ran his fingertips along the leather sweatband inside, as if testing for irregularities. He felt his stomach contract and it hurt a little to breathe.

All eyes were on him.

“Ma’am,” he said after a beat, “I don’t have any idea at all what you’re talking about or what you’re asking me.”

From across the camp, Ted Sullivan said, “Jeez, Rachel…” He was aghast.

“You heard me,” she said to Jed. “You’re picking us off one by one. I want to know why. I want to know what your game is and what you’re after. I mean, look at us. We’re no threat to you—”

“Jesus, Rachel,” Ted Sullivan said to her. Then to Jed, “Man, I’m really sorry. I don’t know what got into her.” He strode across the camp with his arms out toward her.

Sullivan said, “Rachel, really, I’ve never known you to jump to conclusions like this.” As he approached her she turned, said, “Ted, stay away. Don’t touch me.”

Sullivan’s two daughters watched the scene open-mouthed. Jed couldn’t tell which side they were on.

“This is getting out of hand,” Walt Franck said, slapping his thighs from where he sat on a log and using his hands to push himself to a standing position. “This isn’t helpful in any way.” He gestured toward Jed and said to Rachel, “This man has spent the best part of a day trying to track down a couple of his clients who left voluntarily in the middle of the night.

“If I can fault him for anything, it’s for letting Drey and Tony take off on their own this morning to try and make things right. But given the circumstances,” Walt nodded toward Donna Glode, who looked back nonplussed, “I would have probably done the same thing. But no one threw them out, or pressured them to leave. To accuse him of…” He couldn’t say it. He shook his head as if ridding his thoughts of the unpleasant words. “It’s just crazy,” he said.

“He’s right, Rachel,” Sullivan told her. “You’re not being helpful or positive. Please, let’s take a breath and calm down.” He grasped her by the arm and tried to spin her away, but she shrugged him off.

“She might be right,” Gracie said, looking straight at her dad. Ted Sullivan dismissed his daughter with an angry wave. The girl’s face turned crimson.

Jed said bluntly to Rachel, “I ain’t going to lose my temper here, lady. I know it’s a stressful situation. But making accusations with no proof at all isn’t helping anything.”

He looked around the camp for assurance.

And he got it from everybody, he thought. The only people who wouldn’t meet his gaze were Gracie and Rachel Mina. Dakota looked back, but she did so with an upward tilt of her chin and slitted eyes. Like she was making some kind of decision about him.

A beat of silence, then two. Rachel Mina was being led away by Ted Sullivan. Jed watched them go, and noticed that after they’d cleared the camp and were in the trees Sullivan tried to hug her and reason with her, but she pulled away and stomped off alone. After she left, Sullivan stood in the trees with his head down and his shoulders slumped, a sad portrait of a weak but useful man, Jed thought. In a moment, Sullivan turned on his heel and walked the opposite way from where Rachel Mina had gone. Probably to break down and cry, Jed figured.

Jed turned his attention to Dakota. “Please take this bay down to the corral and pick me out the best horse to ride and get it saddled up so I can go after our wayward boys. I’ve got to gather some more gear because I may be back pretty late. I’m not coming back without those strays.”

“Thank you, Jed,” Knox said.

Jed nodded, in his best friendly-like reaction.

He walked the bay to Dakota, who still eyed him coolly. She took the reins, as instructed. That’s all he needed from her at the moment.

*   *   *

Gracie, Danielle, and Justin walked
side by side toward the collection of tents on the grass. Justin and Danielle were holding hands, but Danielle seemed distracted and vacant.

“Those people are just making me crazy,” Justin said, “They’re turning on each other instead of pulling together. I wish we could all go home now.”

He seemed to be waiting for agreement from Danielle, which didn’t come.

Danielle said to Gracie, “I can’t believe Dad acted like that. He really dissed you, didn’t he?”

“Mmmm,” Gracie said. “He dissed Rachel, too.”

Danielle said, “I thought he might take Rachel’s side and yours, too. I mean, he’s our
dad.
You don’t want your own dad to side with the other guy.”

“Mmmm.”

“I guess that’s one thing,” Justin said. “My dad probably would stand with me. He’s like that. I guess I never really thought about it before.”

“Lucky you,” Gracie said.

“You know what?” Danielle said, letting go of Justin’s hand and stepping in front of him next to Gracie.

Gracie said, “What?”

“I’m not sure we can trust him.”

“Mmmm.”

“I don’t,” Danielle said. “Not anymore.”

*   *   *

Dakota led Jed’s bay to the temporary
electric corral. As she walked the horse the voices from the camp faded behind her. Jed was holding court; explaining to Knox, Walt, and Donna how he was going to go back down the trail and come back with Drey and Tony, at least. Saying he couldn’t promise Tristan and frankly didn’t care all that much about Wilson although he’d like to get all his horses back. That he’d likely be back deep into the night or early next morning at the latest. Explaining to Knox, once again, that he didn’t need his help.

As Dakota turned off the electric fence charger and parted the string, she glanced up the hill toward the camp. Knox, Donna, and Walt were still there. Jed had apparently gone to his tent to retrieve gear or clothing he would need for a longer trip. Rachel and Ted were off quarrelling—or avoiding each other—somewhere.

Her eyes swept the trees and the tents. The three teenagers were by themselves, walking away. No one was watching her from the camp.

She picked up her pace and practically dragged the bay along behind her. The horse limped badly but she couldn’t care about that now. The grass was teeming with grasshoppers and they shot away like sparks through the air as she crossed the meadow. A plump one landed on her left breast and she brushed it away. There was a thick spruce in the middle of the makeshift corral and she led the horse behind it, so the trunk was between her and the people in the camp.

Before opening Jed’s saddle panniers, she looked around again. She was in the clear.

She fumbled with the straps of the dual panniers and loosened the top flap. Stretching on the toes of her boots, she pulled the lip of the bags down and peered inside. Jed’s handgun was on top. She thought she got a whiff of gunpowder.