Page 41 of Lawless Ride

Harlan booked them on new charges of kidnapping and aiding and abetting a fugitive and locked them up. We had no physical evidence against them—other than a case of circumstantial proximity, which any good lawyer would blow out of the courtroom.

Those two guys were with Clay Peterson—who had been kidnapped from my squad—and that was good enough for me. I hoped the techs from the DEA would come up with a lot more when they searched Mendenhall’s house.

Clay Peterson was locked up with new charges against him. Lots of new charges including escaping custody and the list went on. He wasn’t looking particularly healthy, and I wondered if one of the ribs I broke had poked a little hole in one of his lungs. That would give him a pasty look and make him short of breath. Yep, he was there.

After the prisoners were squared away, there was no time left to drive forty miles to Saint Mary to the sanctuary office. That trip would have to wait another day.

Wyatt Thompson called from the Cut Bank Tribune wanting details on the shooting he’d heard about in Conrad. The guy had sources everywhere—eyes and ears all over Harrison County.

“Were you there, Travis?”

“Yep. I was there, Wyatt. Can’t talk about that much, but I’ve got something else. Come see me tomorrow.”

“Thanks. How about noon? I’ll buy you lunch across the road at the diner.”

“Sounds great. Noon it is.”

Wild Stallion Ranch.

Harlan and I were both beat by the time we got back to the ranch. A grueling day and Harlan had been hurt. I wanted to have a beer and take another look at his injured side.

A happy surprise when we got home, Savanna was in the kitchen making dinner. I didn’t remember giving her a key, but she seemed to have one. Probably drunk when I gave it to her.

Harlan was always happy to see Savanna and he’d be on me again about having her move in with us. Not a great idea, but I knew he’d be pitching me again.

“What did you guys do all day long?” she asked. “Was it a boring day in the sheriff’s office?”

“Jesus,” said Harlan. “How many dead bodies can you fit into one single day or into the back of one fuckin van?”

Savanna laughed. “You messing with me, Harlan?”

“Nope. I ain’t.”

I grabbed a beer from the fridge, chugged half of it down and strode down the hall to the medicine chest in the bathroom. I thought I might have some healing salve for Harlan’s side. There was about half a tin left and I took it to the kitchen.

“Pull up your shirt, son. I want to see your bruise.”

Harlan lifted his shirt and Savanna made a face.

“That looks nasty, honey.”

“Just stand like that while I cover it in salve. It’ll be a bit sticky, but it might take some of the soreness out of it.”

Harlan waited patiently while I smeared him with the smelly salve. He made a face at the smell but didn’t complain.

Savanna had mac and cheese in the oven and Harlan was all smiles when she served it with warm biscuits. He was heavily into pasta in all forms.

After dinner, we caught Savanna up on all that had happened since we last talked, and in our little law-enforcement world, quite a lot was going on.

“I can’t believe Floyd Boyd is dead,” she said. “He has an account at the store, so I’ll have to see what he owes and submit it to his estate.”

“What did he buy from your store?” asked Harlan.

“Mostly work clothes, tools, and a lot of hardware. I have a large hardware section.”

“Yep. You’d better get that bill ready and submit it,” I said, “before Tanya spends all his money.”

Savanna laughed. “I bet she spends a lot on clothes. I’ve seen some of her designer outfits.”

---