Page 3 of River Ride

“Is the poacher dead?”

“Yes.”

“Dammit,” said Travis. “Okay. We’re on our way. Molly, give Doctor Olsen a call and give him directions to meet us there.”

“Doing it now, Travis.”

“Fuck that, Dad,” said Virge. “This is exactly the kind of shit I was talking about at breakfast. I don’t want a murder case messing up our vacay time. No way in hell I’m missing one of those rodeos.”

“Then you’d better wrap this up fast, boy. You’ve got about three days to clean it up.”

“I intend to,” said Virge as he slid behind the wheel of the Sheriff’s Bronco. “Shortest homicide investigation in fuckin history.”

I laughed at my brother.

“Warp speed,” mumbled Virge.

“Hope you’re right, Virgie,”

Carpenter Ranch. Black Eagle Pass. Montana.

The ranch where the shooting took place was a huge one. Thousands of acres and the terrain was hilly and rough. Getting close to the front gate, we could see two riders on horseback waiting for us.

Virge pulled through the gate and the rancher jumped down off his horse and pointed, “The poacher is in that section of bush over there, Sheriff. You’ll be able to see where he was seeding an area close to the river.”

“We’ll follow you, Mister Carpenter. Lead the way.”

“Not sure how far you can get, even with four-wheel drive.”

“You go ahead and lead the way, sir. Virge will stop when it gets too rough, and we’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”

We bounced up hill and down dale until the Bronco couldn’t go any farther and we had to get out and walk. Following the horses into the woods, it was easy to find the river from the noise it was making. A strong current bubbling along through the forest was hard to miss.

“Right over here, Sheriff,” hollered Carpenter. A couple of vultures flew up squawking when he dismounted near a body sprawled on the ground.

The poacher was about thirty-something. Dark hair sticking out from under his ball cap. Sack of feed next to his body. Never seen him before. Not far away, his horse was tied to a tree.

My first question was, where did this poacher ride from? This ranch was miles from the next one. Even on horseback, it would be a helluva long ride from anywhere. I’d ask Dad what he thought later.

“Harlan, take Mister Carpenter’s rifle and mark it for evidence.”

“Hold on now.” Carpenter was quick to anger and snapped at Dad. “How long you gonna hold my gun, Sheriff Frost? That Winchester is one of my favorites.”

“Long as it takes, sir,” said Travis. “Dismount, sir. I have to cuff you and take you to the station. This is a dead body on your land, and we have to sort it out.”

“Nothing to sort, Sheriff. I’m within my rights to defend my property. I have no intention of going to the station—with you or any of your kid deputies.”

“Procedure, Mister Carpenter. You can call an attorney from there. You’ll be arraigned and it will sort itself out.”

“Nope. Not happening.”

“Get off your horse, Mister Carpenter.”

“Fuck you, Frost.”

Didn’t even see Dad move, but I saw Carpenter fall off his horse and hit the ground. Big red mark on the side of his face.

“You’ll be sorry you did that, Frost. You’ll pay.”

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