Page 19 of Battle Mountain

“Do you know why grandparents and grandchildren get along so well, Joe?” Rulon asked him.

Joe shook his head. As he did so, Ann Byrnes sighed and rolled her eyes. She’d obviously heard the anecdote a million times.

“It’s because they share a common enemy,” Rulon deadpanned. Then: “It’s not that I don’t like Mark. I don’t want it to sound that way at all. But, well, Mark’s a nerd, you know? He grew up on the East Coast, and the only thing he’s ever looked at—besides my daughter, I mean—is a series of screens. He’s never hunted, never fished, never played organized sports, never camped, never, well, you get the idea.”

“He’s an indoor person,” Joe said.

“That’s being very charitable, yes,” Rulon said. “I’d describe him as half a man, but I get in trouble with my wife and daughter when I say that.”

“I can imagine,” Joe said.

Rulon suddenly gestured toward the Bighorn Mountains through the airplane’s portal window. “I mean, why live out here when your existence is no different than it would be if you were in downtown San Francisco or the D.C. Beltway? People need to get out there and experience life, you know? My Charlotte, and future grandkids, need to know there is a natural world out there beyond their iPads. Charlotte needs to know so she can turn out to be a well-rounded and well-adjusted human being. But her parents need to show her the way, you know?”

Joe didn’t interrupt, but he wasn’t sure where Rulon was going or how long the journey was going to take. In his peripheral vision, he noted that Byrnes was checking her watch.

“Our kids went outside, you know?” Rulon said. “Even Megan. She used to love to turn over rocks while I was fishing to see what was under them. She had pet worms in a jar, for goodness’ sake. And a salamander named Ashcroft. We let her get actual dirt on herself. I think if Mark had his way, he’d bubble-wrap Charlotte and never let her go outside. He just doesn’t know any better, I guess.”

Byrnes softly cleared her throat. It got the attention of the pilots, as well as Joe and the governor. Time was running out.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but we’ll need to wrap this up,” she said.

Rulon glared at her, and for a moment his neck flushed pink. Then he sighed, temporarily defeated. Byrnes was no doubt doingexactly what Rulon had asked her to do: keep him focused and on time.

“Joe,” Rulon said, “I hooked Mark up with an elk-hunting guide and encouraged him to get out of his home office this fall and learn about the outdoors firsthand. He was reluctant to do it, but Megan supported the idea, much to my surprise.”

“Okay,” Joe said, urging the governor to get to the point.

“Mark agreed to do it. I’m proud of him. I wanted him to experience the great outdoors and learn some skills. In all honesty, I might have pressured him more than I should have.”

“Okay. Who is the guide?”

“Spike Rankin. Do you know him?”

“Yup,” Joe said. “He hunts in southern Wyoming, down around the Battle Mountain area.”

Joe smiled to himself as he recalled meeting Rankin over the back of a pickup once. Rankin was a tough nut, an opinionated curmudgeon, but one of the best outfitters in the state. Rankin didn’t suffer fools, and poor Mark would have to toe the line or he’d be humiliated.

“Well,” Rulon said, leaning into Joe and lowering his voice, “it seems that Spike Rankin and my son-in-law have been missing since yesterday.”

“Probably scouting,” Joe said. “That isn’t very unusual.”

Rulon shot a glance to Byrnes, then turned back to Joe. Joe got the impression that Byrnes didn’t approve of what was coming next.

“Spike Rankin is an old buddy of mine,” Rulon said. “I asked him on the sly to text me a progress report on Mark every day, and he agreed. I wanted to keep track of the father of my grandchild,you know? Well, Rankin texted me saying Mark was doing better than he thought he would do, and that they were going to do a scouting recon in the mountains, just like you said.”

“Okay.”

“Then yesterday—nothing. Megan is starting to get a little bit worried that she hasn’t heard from Mark, either. I assured her that it’s not unusual at all for Rankin to be out of cell signal range, and I told her not to fret about it. But I’m starting to worry now, too.”

“Have you contacted the sheriff down there?” Joe asked.

“No,” Rulon said emphatically. “And I won’t. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Sheriff Regan Haswell is not only crooked, he’s one of my longtime enemies,” Rulon said. “He’s one of those crazy ultra–right wingers who thinks everyone in state government is corrupt. He answers to no one, including the governor.”

Joe was aware of the ideology of the sovereign nation and their odd beliefs. The sovereigns believed that the duly-elected local sheriff was the only legitimate authority they had to answer to in the nation. Therefore, they paid no federal income taxes and ignored federal regulations in general—as well as most state laws.

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