Page 11 of River Ride

“Thatcher Welding,” said Travis. “Let’s go see if Chuck’s going to lie about knowing Wayne Treadway.”

“Huh,” I said, “this has a weird feel to it.”

“Yeah, it does.”

No answer at the front door of the trailer, so we tried the welding shop out back. The welder was running, and Chuck was working with all of his protective gear on and didn’t hear us come in.

Startled him a bit when he glanced up through the mask and saw us standing there. He jerked the helmet off, shut off the welder and grinned. “Didn’t hear you come in, Sheriff. What can I do for you?”

“We’re investigating Wayne Treadway’s shooting death, Chuck. Maybe you can help us with that.”

“Yeah, sure. I want to help. Absolute tragedy. That rancher had no fuckin right to kill Wayne. Didn’t matter if he was trespassing or not. Trespassing ain’t a fuckin death sentence.”

“Apparently it was to Jed Carpenter,” said Travis.

“Yeah, we heard stories about him and his posted land and steered clear, but Wayne not being from around here, he made a mistake.”

“Yeah, big mistake,” said Travis.

“Tragic one,” said Chuck with a sad look on his face.

“When he was killed, Wayne was seeding an area along the bank of the creek on Carpenter’s property,” said Travis. “You know anything about Wayne poaching?”

Chuck shook his head and laughed. “Wayne would never do that. He’s not a poacher.”

“You sure, Chuck? If he wasn’t poaching, why was he up here in the middle of summer with a sack of grain?”

“You got me there.”

“Really? I heard you guys were drinking together the other night. Y’all must have known a little bit about Wayne’s plans.Come on, Chuck. Wayne drove all the way up here from Missoula, for chrissakes.”

Chuck shrugged. “Nope. He never mentioned hunting out of season to us. Probably because he knew we’d never go for it. We know the rules. Elk season don’t open until September. We never go until at least October when there might be a skiff of snow for tracking. Like that.”

“That’s right,” said Travis. “No hunting until September and be best if you boys don’t forget it.”

“Wayne was on horseback on the Carpenter property,” I said. “Wayne trailer his horse up here from Missoula, Chuck?”

Chuck laughed. “What are you talking about, Deputy? Wayne’s a city boy. He don’t know how to ride a horse.”

“Thanks for your time, Chuck,” said Travis. “We’ll let you get back to work.”

We walked back to the truck, and I tried to sort it out. “The horse was a plant, Dad. Belongs to Carpenter.”

“The sack of seed probably does too,” said Virge. “Carpenter murdered Wayne and he’s covering it up making Wayne look like a poacher.”

“I’m agreeing with you boys on the coverup, but why was Wayne there and how did he get there?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” I said.

“I’m sorting it all out in my head,” said Virge, “and I’m thinking there’s a missing pickup someplace.”

Travis pulled out his cell. “Let me see what Wayne drove, Virgie.” Dad scrolled through the DMV database until he found it. “Five-year-old blue Silverado.”

“Where the fuck is it?” asked Virge. “We need to search the Carpenter property.”

“Need a warrant for that or we need to bring Carpenter in and do it while he’s in the run.”

“Copy. Was Chuck lying about any of it, Virge?” I asked my brother as we drove down the county road on the way to Cut Bank.

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