“Sounds like Ray is a wealth of information, but can we trust him?”
“I told Ray if this thing goes sideways, we’ll know why and he can count on being fired. He said Sledge already called to ask about Burnside. Ray said he recommended him, that’s all. He assured me that he wouldn’t spill the beans. If Sledge calls again, he’ll play along with whatever I tell him to say. Ray’s wife doesn’t want him to have anything to do with Sledge, anyway.”
“I have an idea,” said Henry. “Why don’t you call Beau back and ask if he’d be willing to speak with me. Go ahead and tell him I’m a California game warden.”
“I can do that,” said Lytle. “Come to think of it, you two have something in common.”
“What’s that?”
“Baseball. Beau played for the University of Oklahoma. I think he said he was a pitcher.”
That afternoon, Henry dialed the Oklahoma phone number Gary Lytle had given him.
“Burnside Oil,” said a female receptionist.
“Yes, may I speak to Mr. Burnside, please?”
“Winthrop or Beauregard?”
“Excuse me?”
“Would you like to speak with Winthrop Burnside or Beauregard Burnside?”
“Beauregard, please.”
“I’ll see if he’s in.”
“Mr. Burnside’s office, Jeanie speaking,” said a young woman with a soft Southern accent.
“Hello, this is Henry Glance. May I please speak with Mr. Burnside?”
“Yes, Mr. Glance. One moment please.”
“This is Beau.”
“Hello, Mr. Burnside. This is Warden Hank Glance from California. Gary Lytle said you were willing to talk to me about a hunting guide named Sonny Sledge.”
“Yeah, that sonofabitch took my five-thousand-dollar deposit and refuses to return it.”
Rather than jump right into the crux of the mater, Henry attempted to break the ice with a little friendly chitchat. “Gary tells me you played baseball for the University of Oklahoma.”
“I did. How are you gonna get my money back from that drunken thief in Arizona?”
“What years did you play there?”
“What difference does it make? Sixty-six and sixty-seven.”
“What position did you play?”
“Pitcher. Can we get on with this?”
“No kidding?” said Henry. “I was a pitcher too.”
“Where, in Little League?”
“That’s funny,” said Henry, laughing.
“Look, Warden whatever-your-name-is. I’m a busy—”
“Hank Glance.”
“I have an important meeting in a few minutes.”
“Would you like me to call you back when you have more time?”
“Just a minute. Jeanie, call Jack and tell him I’m gonna be a few minutes late.”
“Should I tell them to tee off without you?” said Jeanie.
“Just tell ’em something came up.”
“Yes, Mr. Burnside.”
“All right, Warden Hank Glance. I’ve canceled my meeting, so you have my complete attention.”
“This Sledge character is bad news. Had your father gotten caught up in his dirty business, he could have been arrested and charged with some serious crimes. I can’t promise to get your money back, but if you agree to help us, this could turn out to be one of the most exciting and worthwhile things you ever do.”
“What would this involve?”
While Burnside listened, Henry spent the next twenty minutes explaining his plan for an undercover sting, using Burnside as a civilian operative.
“Normally, I would turn you down flat,” said Burnside, “but the prospect of getting out of town for a while next month appeals to me. I just broke up with my girlfriend, and she won’t leave me alone. Last night she showed up at my pad during a party and embarrassed the hell out of me. Have ya ever had that problem? Just a second. Jeanie, hold all my calls.”
“No, can’t say that I have.”
“Sorry, what was I saying? I always lose my train of thought when she comes in the room.”
“That’s all right,” said Glance. “You were saying that the thought of getting out of town in September appealed to you.”
“Yeah. Why don’t you give me a day or two to think about this.”
“By the way, Mr. Burnside—”
“You can call me Beau. I was just being an asshole before.”
“Beau, do you remember playing baseball with a catcher named Luke Haskins while you were at the University of Oklahoma?”
“Are you kidding? Luke and I were buddies. I was the fifth reliever on the team, and he was the second-string catcher. We spent a lot of time together, watching games from the bullpen. How do you know Luke?”
“He’s a warden with the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation. I just spoke with him the other day.”
“We haven’t seen each other since graduation. If you talk to Luke again, please give him my best. Meanwhile, I guess you can count me in on this undercover scheme of yours.”
Beau Burnside agreed to call Sledge and tell him he would take his father’s place on the bighorn-sheep hunt. Accompanying Beau would be his twenty-two-year-old “cousin,” Hank. “Don’t call Sledge until I work things out with my supervisors,” said Henry. “I’ll call you back in a day or two.”
Henry telephoned Captain Chuck Odom. After hearing what Henry had to say, Odom set up a meeting in Sacramento with California Department of Fish and Game (DFG) Region 2 Inspector Bill Matson and U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) Special Agent in Charge Roy Campbell. Intrigued by Henry’s story, Agent Campbell contacted the Southern California USFWS special agent in charge, Gene Parnell. When asked if he knew anything about a Las Vegas taxidermist named Kurt Schuler, Parnell said his agents had been trying to find an opening into Schuler’s illegal taxidermy operation for several years.
“This could be the break we’ve been looking for,” said Parnell. “How soon can we set up a meeting with Warden Glance?”
Bill Matson arranged for Henry to be flown to Southern California the following morning by Region 2 Warden Pilot Lance “Snap Roll” Heinrich. The meeting was held in the Department of Fish and Game’s Region 5 Office on Golden Shore Drive in Long Beach. Attending were DFG Region 5 Inspector John Stackhouse, DFG Patrol Captain Jim Granger, USFWS Special Agent in Charge Gene Parnell, USFWS Special Agent Eric Norris, and DFG Warden Henry Glance. Glance presented a detailed explanation of the situation, describing everything he’d learned about Sonny Sledge, taxidermist Kurt Schuler, and civilian undercover operative Beau Burnside.
“I’m impressed with the way you’ve taken the bull by the horns and run with this investigation so far,” said Inspector Stackhouse, a forty-eight-year-old veteran of the Department of Fish and Game. How long have you been on the job, Henry? Is it Henry or Hank? I heard someone call you Hank.”
“My name is Henry, but most of my friends call me Hank. If you count my time at the academy, I’ve been on the job a little over a year.”
“Working undercover can be difficult and extremely dangerous. Do you think you can handle it?” said Stackhouse.
“I was wondering the same thing,” said Captain Granger. “He’s just a kid. How old are you, anyway?”
“I’ll be twenty-three in November.”
“I rest my case,” said Granger. “Do we want to commit this much time, money, and personnel to an investigation run by a twenty-two-year-old kid with a year on the job?”
“Let him answer the question,” said Stackhouse. “Go ahead, Hank.”
“I’m confident I can handle it,” said Henry. “The success of this investigation may depend on Beau Burnside. He and I have developed a pretty good rapport over the phone, and I’m not sure he would be willing to work with anyone else.
The original informant is a friend of mine, whom I’ve known since college. He said right from the start that he and his foreman, Ray Sutton, would only deal with me. If Sutton were to tip off Sledge, the case would go south in a hurry.”
The room was quiet. Finally, Agent Parnell spoke up. “We’ve been trying to get something on Kurt Schuler for several years now. Based on the uncorroborated information we have, this man is doing business with illegal operators all over the world. Who knows when another opportunity like this will come along? I say we put our money on Hank here and go for it. We’re willing to put up the money for the hunt and allocate as many officers as we need. You California boys are deputized to enforce federal wildlife laws, but you’re still going to need us if this investigation leads into Arizona and Nevada.”
Inspector Stackhouse instructed Henry to set up the hunt and report back to him as soon as possible. Fortunately, Beau Burnside had learned the art of bullshitting from his oil-executive father. Minutes into a phone conversation with Sonny Sledge, Beau had Sledge eating out of his hand. “Give me a call when you and your cousin get into Bullhead City,” said Sledge. “Don’t worry about motel reservations. I’ll take care a that for ya.”
“We’re not used to staying in fleabag motels,” said Burnside, “so don’t book us into some dump.”
“Oh, no,” said Sledge, sounding tipsy. “This is a real nice place, right on the river.”
The hunt was scheduled to take place on Monday, September 14 and Tuesday, September 15, 1970. Burnside agreed to bring his own rifle. Water and other provisions would be supplied by Sledge and the man Sledge described as his associate.
“My cousin lives in San Bernardino, so I’ll be flying into Ontario Airport and riding with him to Bullhead City,” said Burnside. “We should be there by seven o’clock on Sunday evening.”
“One more thing,” said Sledge.
“What’s that?”
“I’m gonna need another five thousand ta complete the deal and arrange for the taxidermy work.”
“I’ll bring the money,” said Burnside, “but I better kill a trophy ram, or you’re not getting another penny. That’s what you promised the first time I called, and I’m gonna hold you to it.”
“Don’t worry,” said Sledge. “If you can hit the broad side of a barn at fifty yards, you’ll get your trophy ram. I’ve got one all picked out for ya.”
Burnside telephoned Henry after ending his conversation with Sledge. “Everything is set up,” he said. “I was skeptical about this idea at first, but I’m becoming more excited about it all the time.”
“I’ll work out the logistics and get back to you,” said Henry.
With the trap set, Henry contacted Inspector Stackhouse. Stackhouse advised the federal agents and set in motion legal provisions for Beau Burnside or Warden Henry Glance to take one fully protected California desert bighorn sheep during the undercover investigation.
A coordination meeting was scheduled for Saturday afternoon, September 12, at the Long Beach Fish and Game office. Henry arranged for Beau Burnside to fly into Orange County Airport early that afternoon. Flying from Sacramento, Henry arrived ahead of Burnside and met him at baggage claim.
“How was your trip?” said Henry.
“I had to change planes once, but I got to see the Pacific Ocean before we landed.”
“That makes it all worthwhile. A warden is waiting outside to take us to the Long Beach Fish and Game office.”
TWENTY-FIVE
“This is incredible,” said Inspector Stackhouse, as Henry Glance and Beau Burnside walked through the conference-room door. “You two look so much alike, you could be brothers.”
Born six months apart, Henry and Beau were remarkably similar in appearance: both six-feet-one, athletically built, with dishwater-blond hair trimmed just over the tops of their ears.
It took three hours to review all the details of the investigation and make sure everyone was on the same page. Since the hunt would take place in an isolated desert location, it was going to be impossible to provide immediate backup. Glance and Burnside would have to rely on quick wits and good judgment to carry off their ruse.
Captain Granger handed Henry the keys to a jet-black, 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle that had been seized by the Los Angeles County drug task force, forfeited by the court, and signed over to the Department of Fish and Game for undercover use. It was equipped with a radio hidden inside the locked glove box and a set of civilian license plates.
“It’s a good thing this air conditioner works,” said Henry, as they passed through Barstow and headed east on Interstate 40 toward Needles.
“Have you ever been to Oklahoma in the summertime?” said Beau. “Temperatures can be in the eighties and you’re so hot you can’t breathe.”
Just beyond Ludlow, Henry pointed out a road that led south from I-40. “Do you remember a TV show called Route 66?”
“Are you kidding? I never missed an episode. When I turned sixteen, my daddy bought me a Corvette convertible just like the one Martin Milner and George Maharis drove on the show.”
“The original Route 66 runs south on that road up ahead and passes an old ghost town called Danby. South of Danby are the Old Woman Mountains, where we may be hunting tomorrow.”
“You’re a regular walking encyclopedia, Hank.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
Glance and Burnside had traveled east for another fifty miles when they came to the intersection of Highway 40 and Essex Road. “If we were to go north on that road,” said Glance, “we’d eventually come to the Providence Mountains. That’s another place where we may be hunting tomorrow.”
“Didn’t you mention a third mountain range at the meeting yesterday?”
“I did. The Turtle Mountains are about forty miles south of Needles, off Highway 95. We don’t know which mountain range Sledge plans to hunt, so our department will have backup officers staged somewhere near all of them.”
“What about the federal agents? How do they fit in?”
“Here’s how it works. California Fish and Game wardens are state peace officers, authorized to enforce any state law or local ordinance in the state of California. We are also commissioned by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to enforce federal fish and wildlife laws listed in Title 50 of the Code of Federal Regulations. We can cross state lines under certain circumstances, but it’s not a common practice. Bottom line, the feds will take over as the investigation extends into Arizona and Nevada.”
“I’m glad I asked,” said Beau, laughing. “Are you as hungry as I am?”
“You sound like my friend Larry. We’ll be in Needles in another half hour. Why don’t we eat there before heading up to Bullhead City?”
After grabbing a bite to eat in Needles, Glance and Burnside crossed the Colorado River bridge into Arizona and drove north to Bullhead City. Arriving shortly after 7:00 p.m., Henry gassed up the car while Beau dropped a dime in the pay phone and called Sledge.
“I was wonderin’ when you was gonna get here,” said Sledge, his words slurred.
“I told you we’d arrive about 7:00,” said Beau. “It’s 7:15 now.”
“Stay where you are. I’ll be down after I throw on a shirt and some shoes.”
Driving a light-gray, 1965 Ford Bronco blanketed in dust, Sledge met Glance and Burnside at the gas station and led them to a fifties-era motor inn on the eastern shore of the Colorado River. “This here’s where you’ll be spendin’ the night,” said Sledge, a beady-eyed little man in his mid-forties wearing cutoff jeans, a dirt-stained tank top, and leather sandals. Sledge dropped the tailgate, reached into an ice chest, and pulled out three cold beers. He and his would-be clients stood in the shade of a mesquite tree and discussed the next day’s hunt. “What part of Oklahoma is you boys from?”
“I live near Oklahoma City,” said Beau.
“I hav
en’t lived in Oklahoma since I was a kid,” said Henry. “San Bernardino’s where I live now.”
“Did ya remember ta bring your rifle?” said Sledge. “These big rams are hard ta bring down, so ya need somethin’ with a punch.”
“I brought my daddy’s 30.06, like I told ya I would,” said Beau.
“That’s good,” said Sledge. “I’ll bring along my rife, just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
“Just in case ya don’t kill him on the first shot. We don’t want no wounded sheep runnin’ around the desert. It’s bad for business, if ya know what I mean.”
“Where we gonna be huntin’?” said Henry, hoping to alert the backup team.
“I’ll tell ya that in the mornin’,” said Sledge, “after we meet up with my partner.” Sledge pulled another beer from the ice chest, closed the tailgate, and hopped into his Bronco. “Get a good night’s sleep, gentlemen. Five o’clock comes early.”
That night, Henry called his contact, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Special Agent Eric Norris, and provided the description and license number of Sonny Sledge’s Ford Bronco. He also gave Norris the name and location of the Bullhead City motel where he and Burnside would be staying.
When the sun came up on the morning of September 14, 1970, Palo Verde Warden Andy Howard and Needles Warden Dave Finch were in position off old Route 66, near Danby. They had chosen this location in case Sledge planned to hunt the Old Woman Mountains. Long Beach Marine Warden Jack Mayberry and Baker Warden Jeff Mitchell were staked out north of Interstate 40, with a clear view of Essex Road, should Sledge plan to hunt the Providence Mountains. Forty miles south of Needles, near the four-wheel-drive road into Mopah Springs and the Turtle Mountains, sat Blythe Warden Rich Calloway and Parker Dam Warden Mark Rollins.
Sledge picked up Glance and Burnside at 5:00 a.m. and drove to a coffee shop in Needles. Pushing open the fingerprint-smudged glass door, Henry and Beau were greeted by a blast of cigarette smoke and a forty-nine-year-old beanpole, introduced by Sledge as his partner, Clem Beasley.
The Case of the Missing Game Warden Page 20