Mountain Rampage

This is a work of fiction set in a real place. All characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First Torrey House Press Edition, June 2015

Copyright © 2015 by Scott Graham

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or retransmitted in any form or by any means without the written consent of the publisher.

Published by Torrey House Press, LLC

Salt Lake City, Utah

www.torreyhouse.com

E-book ISBN: 978-1-937226-46-6

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014957372

Cover design by Rick Whipple, Sky Island Studio

Interior design by Jeff Fuller, Shelfish •
Shelfish.weebly.com

Distributed to the trade by Consortium Book Sales and Distribution

For my parents, Reg and Bev, with thanks for sharing their love of the Colorado mountains with me

CONTENTS

P
ROLOGUE

T
UESDAY

   
C
HAPTER
O
NE

   
C
HAPTER
T
WO

   
C
HAPTER
T
HREE

   
C
HAPTER
F
OUR

   
C
HAPTER
F
IVE

   
C
HAPTER
S
IX

   
C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

   
C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

   
C
HAPTER
N
INE

   
C
HAPTER
T
EN

   
C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

   
C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

   
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

   
C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

   
C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

   
C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

   
C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

W
EDNESDAY

   
C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

   
C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

   
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

   
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-O
NE

   
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
WO

   
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
HREE

   
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-F
OUR

   
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-F
IVE

   
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-S
IX

   
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-S
EVEN

   
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-E
IGHT

   
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-N
INE

   
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY

   
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-O
NE

   
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-T
WO

   
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-T
HREE

T
HURSDAY

   
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-F
OUR

   
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-F
IVE

   
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-S
IX

   
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-S
EVEN

   
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-E
IGHT

   
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-N
INE

   
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY

   
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-O
NE

   
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-T
WO

   
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-T
HREE

   
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-F
OUR

   
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-F
IVE

   
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-S
IX

   
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-S
EVEN

   
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-E
IGHT

   
C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-N
INE

   
C
HAPTER
F
IFTY

   
C
HAPTER
F
IFTY
-O
NE

   
C
HAPTER
F
IFTY
-T
WO

   
C
HAPTER
F
IFTY
-T
HREE

   
C
HAPTER
F
IFTY
-F
OUR

EPILOGUE

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

A
BOUT
S
COTT
G
RAHAM

MOUNTAIN RAMPAGE

“It may be, if we quit shooting animals on one side of a Park boundary line, that in due time we shall become sufficiently civilized to stop killing people on the other side of the boundary line.”

—Enos Mills

Father of Rocky Mountain National Park, 1870-1922

PROLOGUE

The ram never heard the shot that killed it.

The heavily muscled Rocky Mountain sheep, its horns long and curled, grazed its way up the shadowed northwest ridge of Mount Landen accompanied by its herd of two dozen ewes and first-year lambs. The ridge scalloped the dawn sky high above tree level. The herd nipped at bunches of dry grass shivering in the stiff breeze between lichen-covered rocks.

The ram stopped to gaze at the forested valley far below. The ewes and lambs halted, too. Any predator attempting to approach from the forest would reveal itself long before it grew close. But predators were not a concern here on the north face of Mount Landen in the heart of Rocky Mountain National Park's Mummy Range.

The grizzlies that once constituted the ram's only real threat were gone, hunted to extinction more than a century ago. Black bears and the park's few mountain lions fed below tree line on easier prey—deer, elk, raccoons, porcupines. The bighorn had no need to fear humans; hunting was a thing of the distant past in the park. Only the long natural history of its species compelled the ram to maintain its vigilance.

Satisfied all was well, the ram lowered its head and resumed grazing. It paused again as it topped the rocky crest of the ridge. The rising sun splashed the ridge with rust and orange against a cloudless turquoise sky. The ram stood with its powerful chest thrust forward, wind whipping its thick coat. To the north and west, the surrounding peaks and folded cirques of the Mummy Range took shape in the growing light.

The bullet, moving far faster than the speed of sound, struck
the ram in its side. The slug mushroomed upon impact, ripping through the animal's lungs and shredding its heart before bursting through its ribcage in a spray of red.

The ram staggered sideways. Blood frothed at its mouth, forming small, crimson bubbles. The bighorn sank to its knees.

The last pulse of oxygen to the ram's brain enabled the creature to maintain its balance, kneeling atop the ridge as the slope below exploded with motion. The ewes and lambs scattered, regrouped, and galloped as one, parting around the kneeling ram and disappearing over the serrated ridge.

The shooter lay three hundred yards down the ridge, his eye to his rifle's scope. He'd seen the ram shudder and envisioned the poof of fur as the slug plowed into the animal precisely where he'd intended. The bighorn remained upright on its knees, but the gunman knew the ram was finished. More than once, though, he'd known as much only to be proven wrong.