Page 46 of Battle Mountain

“I could hear you coming down the road,” she said. “I was hoping you was someone else.”

Kany said, “Sorry to disappoint you. I’m game warden Susan Kany, and this is Joe Pickett. We’re here to talk to Spike Rankin.”

“Is he in trouble?” the cook asked.

“No. It’s a friendly visit.”

The woman put her hands on her hips and looked them over. She was in her late fifties or early sixties with shoulder-length white hair, thick round-framed glasses, and a ruddy expression. The cast-iron camp stove inside the tent crackled as it burned.

“I’d like to talk to Spike myself,” she said. Then: “I’m Audrey Racines from Baggs.” The town of Baggs was thirty miles away to the west. “I’ve been up here cooking for Spike for twenty-three years. This is the first time he hasn’t shown up when he said he’d be here.”

Joe and Kany exchanged a concerned look.

“When was he supposed to be here?” Kany asked Racines.

“Yesterday, damn it,” Racines said. “It’s been the same drill forever. Spike comes up here a week or two before the season opens to scout for elk and set up the camp. He sends me a list of how many clients he has and any food allergies, and how long they’re going to be up here. Then I go shopping and I come up the day before to get everything set up and plan all the meals. Spike usually goes down into Encampment or Warm Springs to pick up whatever we’re low on or we forgot.

“But when I showed up yesterday, there was no Spike Rankin. He’s been here to set things up, as you can see. But I haven’t heard hide nor hair of him.”

“And that’s unusual?” Kany asked her.

“It’s really unusual,” Racines said. “I called and texted him, but he hasn’t called back. Of course, cell service is rotten up here. But still, I should have heard from him by now. His hunters are due to show up anytime.”

“Do you know what part of the mountains he was scouting?”

“Not a clue,” Racines said. “When I’m up here at the elk camp, I stay right here. I never go out with them. My job is to keep the coffee on and the beer cooler full for when they get back.”

“Does he usually have a radio or a sat phone with him?” Kany asked.

“He’s got a sat phone in case a hunter gets injured or something,” Racines said. “If he needs to call in the EMTs. But he doesn’t turn it on unless he needs to call out.”

“What’s the description of his vehicle?” Kany asked. “We can call it in and see if anyone has reported it parked somewhere. Ifnot, we can put out an APB for southern Wyoming. Do you have any photos of Rankin I can send along?”

“Back at home, I have some elk camp photos from over the years,” Racines said. “But I don’t have none of ’em with me.” Then, raising an index finger to her chin, she said: “Hold it.”

With that, she ducked inside the communal tent and came out with a large three-ring album. “We’ve got hunting and camp photos in here going back ten years,” she said. “Spike’s in a ton of them. We keep this on the table so new clients can see there are plenty of elk up here.”

“Perfect,” Kany said.

Racines said Rankin drove a “tricked-up” gray 2018 Dodge Ram Power Wagon with local County Six plates, meaning Carbon County. The pickup had extra clearance and knobby tires, and a platform for an ATV on top of the bed in back.

She said, “It’s hard to miss. It’s quite a unit. My husband has dreams about owning one like it one of these days, to which I say, ‘Fat chance, buddy. You need to make a lot more money than you do if you want to afford one of these.’ ”

While Kany called dispatch in Cheyenne to relay the vehicle details, Joe asked Racines, “Do you mind if I look around?”

“Feel free,” she said. “I hope you find him. I’m at my wit’s end. I don’t want them hunters showing up with just me here. Some of them guys are hard to deal with as it is.” Then: “And I’m getting worried about Spike. He shouldn’t be gone this long, unless…something happened.”

Joe tipped his hat to her and set about to circumnavigate the camp. As he passed Racines, she said, “You’re pretty well known around this camp, Joe Pickett.”

He paused and looked quizzically at her.

“Spike loves to tell his hunters about the time a brand-new game warden arrested the governor for fishing without a license up in Twelve Sleep County,” she said with a laugh. “He does it so his clients know what kind of sticklers some of you guys are. It’s a way of reminding them to always carry their licenses and conservation stamps with them and to stay on the up-and-up. ‘Cuz you never know when one of those tight-assed game wardens might show up,’ he says.” Then: “That was you, right?”

“It was,” Joe said. “That was a long time ago.”

“Spike would probably like to meet you,” Racines said. Then, with a long sigh: “I hope he shows up.”

“Me too. Did he mention being up here this year with a new guy?” Joe asked.

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