Canyon Secret (26 page)
Scalf looked around and answered, “This haul road is the only way in and out of here.”
“Alright then. I think that’ll do it for now. We’re meeting the Kalispell police chief for lunch and a tour of the route to the high school. So we need to be on our way. If we think of anything before we arrive on September 30th, we’ll call. Once you get the ceremonies and small details planned, you can call us. Here’s a card with a number to reach us.”
Al Sutter made some notes himself. It would be to his advantage to plan his photographs. The big time magazine photographers would need to react on the fly. “Hey W.R., thanks for bringing me along and fixing it for me to ride the press bus. But I have a question for you. How come you didn’t tell them about the FBI and the murders at the other Dams?”
Scalf kicked himself for not filling in the Secret service about the FBI involvement. “I batted that around all last night. But I figured it was up to the FBI to talk to them. Now I wished I would’ve told him. Then they could get a hold of the FBI.”
“Where are you on that thing anyway?”
Scalf looked down and shuffled some gravel between his new shoes. “Things are in the hopper. That’s all I can tell you now, Al. But I’ll get you the scoop as soon as it’s safe. I’ll make good on my word to you.”
W
hen Columbia Falls was first settled in 1890, the North Fork Valley was a proposed route of rail lines into Canada. The main objective was the North Fork coal beds and the Coal Creek and lignite beds between Big Creek Ranger Station and Polebridge. In 1892, the
Columbia Newspaper
commented that the North Fork held many gallons of oil and that samples had been sent east. These samples were pronounced as best quality. Before 1951, there was a fifty year history of drilling for oil in the region. Iowa corn farmers, Washington and Oregon businessmen, London financiers, and local citizens were among those who helped finance drilling. No commercial quantities of oil resulted.
Extensive road improvements and large timber sales became part of the development of the North Fork Valley. Flathead National Forest sold twenty-six million board feet in 1950 and 1951; much of it was blowdown. The North Fork was slated for an annual log cut of fourteen-million board feet.
The 1952 Labor Day weekend provided the Dam workers with the time off they needed for the final push to complete the work in time for the dedication. Mikhail stowed away the box of groceries behind the backseat of the station wagon he borrowed from his partner Bud Reynolds. Hannah gabbed with Tomas. They waited for John Nolan as he hauled the green metal cooler from her porch. He exaggerated his struggle as he lugged the cooler toward the station wagon. “What the hell you got in here? It must weigh half a ton.”
Hannah directed him to the back where Mikhail stood. “Just slide it in next to the box of groceries. And quit whining so much. Half of the weight is your beer.” She flirtatiously winked at Mikhail as Nolan wrestled the cooler into place.
Nolan immediately slid open the door handle to the cooler and rescued a bottle of Highlander Beer from the ice-packed container. He produced an opener and snapped the beer lid off of the bottle. Without a slight hesitation, Nolan swallowed his first drink of the day. He gasped a huge sigh, admired the bottle, and spoke, “Now that hits the spot. A man deserves that after all the hell he’s put through. Now you, Mik, don’t deserve nothin’. Maybe a glass of water. I could’ve carried that little box with one hand tied behind my back.”
Mikhail smiled at him and bluffed a backhand slap. Nolan jumped to an old time boxing stance like John L. Sullivan used and said, “Come on now, Big Boy. Let’s see what you got.” He pranced around and boxed an imaginary fighter.
This play pleased Tomas as he treasured the time with all of them together. Soon his sister and niece would be part of this fun. Mikhail planned to finish working on September 10th. He then planned to move Anna and Katya to Columbia Falls about September 20th. Tomas battled second thoughts about leaving his family for the Navy. But the papers were signed and his departure date was November 1st. He’d make the best of this weekend and the remaining time together. The ideal September weather made for a perfect day. He watched his dad open the front door of the car for Hannah. He’d hoped to sit in the front seat in order to stretch his long legs. But he’d tough it out in the back with his godfather, John Nolan.
The North Fork Road was in horrible condition. Nolan complained about how difficult it was to take a decent drink from his second and then third beer. “A man would die of thirst drivin’ up this road. God himself would walk that there river rather than ride on this bumpy son-of-a-bitch.”
Tomas shot him a look and pointed toward Hannah. He signaled by using his thumb. Mikhail looked at him through the rear view mirror. Unfazed, Nolan continued, “Tell me, Hannah, what kind of woman is your ma?”
She pivoted around in the front seat and faced Nolan and Tomas. “Well, she’s a character. In fact, you two will get along just fine.”
“And will she have a drink or two with me?”
She laughed, “Oh, I think so. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if she hasn’t had a couple already. She does that when she gets a little nervous.”
Nolan managed a drink of his beer, “Well then. Maybe I’ll tell her a few stories about my favorite Bohunk sittin’ up there like a monkey humped over a football.”
Tomas howled. He should have expected it. But he thought Nolan might behave with Hannah along. He laughed so loud his father looked in the mirror at him. Mikhail shook his head and said, “See what I mean? He just can’t help hisself.” To his surprise, Hannah laughed as hard as Tomas. The vision of a monkey humped over a football struck her funny bone. The quick look she snuck at Mikhail with his huge hands draped over the steering wheel strangely fit Nolan’s description of Mikhail.
June Holley sat on a wooden chair on the front porch of the Polebridge Mercantile. The September smells of fading summer filled her nostrils. She completed her baking an hour earlier and managed to fit in a relaxing half-hour in the tub. The ice-cold beer she pulled from the big cooler poured from the bottle and slid smoothly into her Mason jar. She wore her cleanest blue jeans and white blouse. As she often did, she cursed her large chest and shoulders as the buttons pushed the limits of the buttonholes. She envied smaller women without the challenge of tight fitting clothes. When Hannah complained in her younger years about being flat chested, June warned her that down the road she’d be thankful for the body that she had.
Her gray hair gathered easily into the ponytail. June smiled to herself as she dismissed the thought of applying a touch of lipstick. “Hell with em’. They’ll take me as I am. No sense in putting on the dog. It’ll be fun meeting Hannah’s friends.” She petted the three-legged dog behind the ear as she enjoyed her second beer. The cloud of dust a mile away caught her attention. Her nerves settled with the effect of the beer and the smell of dying leaves. The colors started earlier this year due to the lack of rain. Brilliant red colors from the red ocher dogwood bushes dotted the facing side hills.
Mikhail guided the dusty station wagon down the half-mile road and stopped in front of the Mercantile. Dust lingered as he turned off the key. June Holley rose from her chair and waved the dust away with her non-beer drinking hand. Mikhail watched as Hannah rushed to her mother and disappeared into her mother’s hug.
The backseat car door opened and Nolan emerged with three empty beer bottles in his hands. After he set the bottles on the hood of the station wagon, he interrupted Hannah and her mother, “I need to use your can. I got to pee like a race horse.”
June Holley pointed to the back of the mercantile. As Nolan trotted off, he heard June Holley say, “He’s too short to be much of a racehorse.” In the outhouse, Nolan smiled as he thought of how feisty the old lady must have been as a younger woman. He regretted not knowing her during her heyday.
Warm thoughts of his mother and his aunt flooded Nolan’s mind. This lady in jeans and bursting out of her white blouse took him back to days at the Columbia Gardens in East Butte with his mother and aunt Cassie. He treasured the memories of the bantering that went on between the two most important women in his young life. He looked forward to carrying on with Hannah’s mother. The outhouse door slammed as he walked out zippering his black work pants. He looked up and saw Hannah introducing Mikhail and Tomas. “Poor bastard,” he thought as Mikhail shyly nodded hello to June Holley. “This will be a great place to start,” he thought. “He’s goin’ to get it good today. But first I need a cold beer.”
More traffic than normal moved along the highway in Hungry Horse. Ted Hughes waited outside of his small house trailer for David Sednick. They planned to drive around the outside of Glacier Park and back through the Park via the Going To The Sun Highway.
An hour earlier Ted Hughes telephoned his boss in Butte. He planned to push Sednick about his huge bank account. His boss instructed him to approach David Sednick about the source of the money. He also needed to tell Sednick that his life was in danger and his best chance was with the FBI and any deal that they might make for him. He stood up from sitting on the top stair of his trailer home as David’s shiny black Chevy pickup stopped in the front. Through the open front window, Hughes welcomed David Sednick, “Looks like you washed her up for the trip.”
“Ya. It got away from me. I hate dirty rigs, let alone when it’s mine.” Hughes smelled the liquor on David’s breath and recognized the bewildered hangover stare that followed a night of heavy drinking. It then occurred to Hughes that maybe the way to get Sednick to open up was to get him drunk. Now he had a plan. There’d be lots of stops today at the many bars between Hungry Horse and the town of St. Mary’s. David Sednick would tell him what he wanted to know.
In Seattle, Roy Devers dried himself after a long morning shower in his girlfriend’s apartment. He mentally organized his day. First thing he’d do after Leslie left was to call Montana and set up a meeting with his contact, R.T. Hansen. The night before, he let Leslie know that he had work in Montana somewhere around the last part of September. Now with his phone call this morning, he’d nail down a time to eyeball his target for the first time. Hansen would arrange a meeting with his victim, and the hunt would be on. Devers figured a couple of days and nights observing Sednick’s habits should do it. He told Leslie he’d return around October 1st.
After he hung up the telephone, R.T. Hansen adjusted his tie and neatly rearranged the few bills and envelopes on his desk. He enjoyed the morning solitude in his office due to the Labor Day shut-down of all work on Hungry Horse Dam. The realization of only a few weeks of work left brought some temporary peace and quiet. He shook his head trying to imagine what it would be like to not have to work and carry on his double life. Palm Springs will suit me just fine. My beautiful secret friend is there waiting for me.
His phone conversation with Roy Devers went well. They agreed on September 24th for the meeting with David Sednick. Devers would be at the Club Café while he and Sednick visited over lunch. The thought of being done with the whole ugly business pleased him. It almost pleased him as much as the thought of telling his wife Betty that he had enough. She wouldn’t be joining him on his vacation in California and retirement. He reviewed his plan to pay her enough to make her comfortable for the rest of her life. And then he was on his own. She most likely wouldn’t care anyway. “Sounds like she and the sheriff are off to the races. Good. I’m sick to death of her. I’m not losing anything.”
June Holley reluctantly climbed into the front seat of the station wagon with Mikhail. She watched her daughter snuggle in the back seat between Tomas and John Nolan. “Well after you cross the bridge, you go through the Park entrance. Then we’ll grab a left to get to Bowman Lake. It’s about six miles I figure. Or as my friend would say, it’s about a six-pack trip.”
Nolan perked right up after hearing June’s comment, “Well for a lady like yourself, it’s more like a tiptoe through the tulips.” He smiled across at Tomas. “Yep. Just like a goddamn tiptoe through the proverbial tulips I imagine.”
She struggled to turn around to face Nolan. “What in the hell you goin’ on about back there. I ain’t tiptoed nowhere in my life. I’m not exactly your dainty little dancer, don’t you know.”
“Oh, but I bet you got around just fine when you were a touch younger.” Nolan spilled his beer as Mikhail jerked the station wagon with his sudden slam on the brakes. The second of the four whitetail deer passed quickly in front of them. “Jesus H. Christ. You’re one thickheaded Bohunk alright. How am I suppose’ to carry on an intelligent conversation with you drivin’ like some kind of a ninny?”
Hannah gently elbowed Tomas. Her smile made it plain that she soaked in every bit of the theater unfolding before them. Her mother continued, “So, John Nolan. Anybody ever tell you that you’re full of shit?” Hannah’s smile broadened into a controlled laugh, and she elbowed Tomas again.
He straightened up his posture in the backseat, took a drink of beer, and twisted his lips in order to answer his new friend. “Well, let’s look at it this way. The nun in the first grade at Holy Savior told me that I’d back up the confessional line if I ever decided to tell the priest all of my lies.”
“So even the nuns knew you were full of shit.”
“Yep. That was right after she took me into the bathroom, pulled down my pants, and took a good long look at my pee wee.”
Even June Holley laughed. She snorted in an attempt to catch her laugh. Mikhail momentarily raised his eyes to the roof of the station wagon and shook his head in disbelief. There was no stoppin’ Nolan today. He grinned and through the rear view mirror picked up the warm sight of his son and the new love of his life laughing together. John Nolan enriched all of their lives with his powerful sense of timing with his stories. The rough six-mile trip to the picnic grounds at Bowman Lake flew by.
