BLOOD RIVER (A Trask Brothers Murder Mystery)

by C. E. Nelson

  The boats were now roughly forty-five feet apart. “Halt or I’ll shoot!” shouted Don as he aimed his weapon.

  Bigeagle stared back at Don, his hair and clothes soaked, water dripping from his chin. His eyes narrowed in a look of hatred that Dan had seen before and sent a chill down his spine. Those were eyes that had seen death and had no fear of it. Bigeagle laughed, infuriating the BCA officer.

  “Take it!” shouted Dave and Don needed no encouragement.

  Holding on to the boat with his left hand for balance he aimed at the motor and pulled the trigger. But just as he shot Bigeagle pushed the tiller away from him causing the boat to bank sharply to the right. The Indian screamed in pain as Don’s shot missed the motor, tearing into Bigeagle’s arm on the tiller. Incredibly Bigeagle did not let up, instead he pulled the tiller handle close causing his boat to now cut sharply back to the left.

  Don tracked the guide’s boat with his gun and readied for a second shot when he suddenly found himself on the floor in front of his seat facing backwards. Dave had cut the motor.

  “What the hell are you doing?” shouted Don at his brother as he stood.

  “We can’t go any further,” replied Dave with a tone of defeat.

  “What do you mean? Go get him!” yelled Don waving his hands in the air.

  “We can’t,” Dave replied dejectedly as he pointed. “Boulder field.” Don stood, gun still in his hand, but Bigeagle was too far away for another shot. He looked over the side of the boat at a dark shape just under the surface. They had been close.

  The Seagull River not only had rocks in the river itself, but a vast field of huge boulders, only a few visible above the surface, stretched two to three-hundred yards into the lake before the mouth. Even seasoned guides avoided this portion of the lake as the rocks were too numerous. Still, Bigeagle only slowed momentarily to switch arms on the tiller, before zigzagging his way into the river until he disappeared from the brothers’ sight.

  Bigeagle hoped they would follow. He had been through this boulder field many times as a boy on a canoe and later in a boat after earning the trust of his father. Still, the path was treacherous and he needed to be aware of his position at all times if he expected to make it into the river. It was awkward using his left arm to run the motor and he was not nearly as steady in his navigation. One wrong move and his boat would be disabled, the current pushing him back to his pursuers.

  As he neared the sharp bend in the river where it entered the lake he chanced a quick glance behind him. The two men had stopped. Perhaps someone had warned them. The man in the front stood with a gun at his side, both watched him. The Sentry slowed and turned his attention back to the river. Blood was now running from his shoulder and dripped from his elbow, the arm ached and burned. He motored up the river until he heard the motor of the boat that had followed him and listened. They were not following. He turned to shore, wincing in pain as he shifted the motor into neutral with his right arm, his bloody fingers making it more difficult. He wanted to beach the boat but knew he could not tilt the motor with his injured arm so instead he wedged it between two boulders so he faced downstream, the current holding him in place.

  Bigeagle opened the cooler in front of him and lifted out a water bottle, unscrewed the top, and poured it on his wound. His raw flesh burned at the touch of the water and he flinched, letting go a scream. As best he could he held a towel over the wound and wrapped it, tying it in a loose knot. He dipped his injured arm in the water up to the towel, letting the current was away the blood. Bigeagle sat back and put the boat in reverse, the prop grinding as it scraped a rock. The current pushed the stern of the boat downstream and he again put the motor in forward.

  The Seagull River flows from Basswood to Bay Lake where Half Moon was located. The river is navigable upstream from Bay Lake until roughly half a mile below Basswood where the rapids become shallow. Bigeagle gave the motor gas as he turned sharply towards shore below the rapids, the motor bouncing off the rocks, finally stopping altogether. The skeg was gone and the prop ground to nothing but he did not care. He would not be using this boat again. Bigeagle gingerly stepped over the side of the boat onto a flat boulder, reaching back in to remove the cooler, carrying it with him as he carefully walked over the slippery rocks on the river bottom. He cursed himself as he lost his balance and reached out to steady himself with his injured arm. The mosquitoes were attacking him as he reached shore but there was nothing he could do about it as he carried the cooler in one hand and his injured arm hung at his side. He felt warm now, like he was getting a fever, and tired. He wanted to stop but he had a half-mile walk through the woods to where he hoped he would find an old boat that his family had kept at the head of the river. If it was there, he would need to turn it over, carry the motor and gas can they kept hidden in the woods nearby, attach the motor, push the boat into the lake, pull the cord to get it started, and then motor several miles across the lake to where he would spend the night. It would not be easy.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The Trasks agreed it was unlikely that Bigeagle would come back down the river but decided it was best not to take a chance. As they motored to the island they had passed while chasing Bigeagle, Dave had called Kyle and told him to get someone out on Basswood to where the lake emptied into the river. He gave him a description of Bigeagle that he was to get out to the other officers. They were to patrol the shore from the lake but were not to go on shore in pursuit. He also told him to get Danny to Half Moon where he was to borrow a boat and head out to their position. Kyle said he would take care of it.

  Dave called Brad Owens and told him Danny would be coming. It was over an hour before Meline beached his boat next to the Trasks’ boat. Dave instructed him to watch the river but to return to Half Moon by dusk.

  The Trasks returned to Half Moon and found a majority of the guests and staff on the shore or dock. Owens helped them dock the boat.

  “Did you get him?”

  “He went up the river Mr. Owens. We couldn’t follow.”

  Owens shook his head. “Not many would do that.”

  “We’d like to see where he was staying and talk to your guides again.”

  “Sure. Follow me.” Owens led them to the building where Dave had seen Bigeagle a few days ago. A couple of guides were standing on the porch leaning against the railing. John Bigeagle was one.

  Bigeagle stepped into Brad’s way as he put his foot on the step. “The sheriff wants to look in Bobby’s room,” said Owens. Dave and Don both stood looking at the man on the porch, tense, hands moving slowly to their weapons.

  “I can take them,” replied Bigeagle, waving them up and turning toward the door.

  The brothers relaxed and Owens stepped aside to let them pass. They followed Bigeagle through the room where Dave had previously spoken to the guides to a narrow hallway with light pine planking, poorly lit with a single overhead light. They passed two opposite open doors before Bigeagle turned into a doorway on his left. The brothers followed.

  They found themselves in a cramped bunkroom, barely enough room for the three of them. Built-in bunks with single mattresses were on opposite walls, sleeping bags on each. A single pine dresser with four drawers stood between the bunks under an open window.

  “Bobby was in this bunk,” said Bigeagle as he pointed to the bunk on their left. “His stuff is stashed under the bunk, he didn’t have nothing in the dresser.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Dave.

  “Because I roomed with him. The dresser has my stuff.”

  The brothers stared hard at John, not sure whether to believe him. “Just the same,” said Don looking up at the guide, “we’d like to go through all of the room. We’d appreciate it if you would stay while we did that.”

  Bigeagle stared back at Don, his eyes narrow, his face hard from years in the outdoors, and possibly more. The brothers went on guard again, but then John sat down on his bunk, holding his head in his hands.

  “I don’t
want to believe that Bobby did these things, but I can’t say I am surprised. The last few months when I have been around him, especially at night as we lay in the bunks, he has told me of a deep hatred for the white man. I tried to calm him and tell him that the white man had brought us more money than we ever had before they came, but he only laughed. He said I was a brainwashed fool and I had forgotten our ancestors. He said that our ancestors were telling him we must make a stand to take back our lands and our way before it was too late.”

  The Trasks looked at each other. “He hears voices?” asked Dave as he looked back to Bigeagle. Bigeagle nodded.

  Dave went to his knees to look under Bobby’s bunk to see dirty clothes and a duffle bag stuffed underneath. He pulled out a black t-shirt and laid it on the bed. “Don, look at this.”

  Don turned from the open dresser drawer he was searching and looked down at the shirt. There were several dark stains. “Could be blood.”

  As Don picked up the shirt and turned it over, Dave retrieved a pair of jeans from under the bunk. He flopped them down so the front faced them. Dark stains were easily visible. A horizontal stain was on the right thigh.

  Finally he pulled out the duffle bag and placed it on the bed. The bag was made of faded green canvas and heavy, leather-wrapped handles had dried and cracked, the zipper broken. Dave turned the bag over and dumped its contents next to the jeans. Mismatched socks, two t-shirts, a wrinkled plaid shirt, boxers, and a pair of tennis shoes fell out. He shook the bag again and then felt the inside but there was nothing more.

  Dave put the bag down and looked at his brother who was just closing the bottom dresser drawer. He shook his head ‘no’. Dave moved to the doorway and turned to Bigeagle who was still sitting on his bunk. “Mr. Bigeagle, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me to the kitchen. We’re going to have to bring in some other people to go through this room.” The big man stood, staring down at the pants and shirt on his cousin’s bed. “Mr. Bigeagle,” said Dave holding up one arm, “if you would sir.” Bigeagle glanced up at Dave and then back to the bed but did not move. Don, standing in front of the dresser, moved his hand to his weapon. Finally Bigeagle turned and walked past Dave who watched him move slowly down the hall.

  “I’ll get a team up here ASAP,” said Don.

  “Thanks,” replied Dave. “I’ll have another conversation with John.”

  Dave followed John into the kitchen where the other guides now stood leaning on the outer walls. All were quiet as they entered. Dave looked around and suggested that he and John talk outside. The pair made their way to the dock.

  “Had you seen those clothes before John?”

  “No.”

  “You had never seen Bobby wearing them?”

  “I told you no!” he insisted.

  Dave looked at John who was now staring across the water. “We need your help John. Where would your cousin go?”

  “I don’t know. He never told me.”

  “John, there is a very good chance that Bobby is involved in the killings, killings that are affecting you and the rest of the people who count on tourism in this area to make a living, which is just about everybody as far as I can tell. Where would Bobby go when he wasn’t at the camp?

  John stood silent for a long minute, hands in his pockets as he looked at the water. “He stayed with his parents for a while but I don’t think he’s been back there for over a year. I think he has camps on Timber Island and in Ghost Bay but I’ve never been to any of them.” Bigeagle turned to Dave. “You will not catch him in the wild, sheriff. He will see you, hear you, smell you. He will be next to you but you will not know he is there – until it is too late for you.”

  A stray cloud momentarily blocked out the sun, and Dave felt a chill. “Thanks for the warning,” he replied and went back to talk to Don.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  The Trasks finished going through the Bigeagle bunkroom and questioned the other guides about what they knew about Bobby Bigeagle with little success. Dave had gotten hold of Doctor Adams who promised to send someone with a sample of Lee Strom’s blood as soon as he could. The sun was setting by the time the technicians and mobile unit from the BCA arrived to analyze what they had found. Don was leading them back to the bunkroom when a Black Chevy Silverado pulled in behind the mobile unit.

  “Evening sheriff,” said Linda James as she walked up to Dave. “I believe you wanted this,” she said as she handed him the blood sample he had requested. “Brought in the big boys I see,” she commented looking back at the BCA truck.

  “Since when do doctors deliver blood samples?” questioned Dave, trying not to grin at the sight of her in white shorts and a pink blouse that had Dave’s imagination going.

  “Oh, I just thought you might want to buy me that dinner you owe me.”

  “And how would you know that I haven’t already eaten?”

  “Have you?” she asked already knowing the answer.

  “Well, no. Let me just check in with the men inside and we can get out of here,” replied Dave as he continued to look at the beautiful woman in front of him.

  Just then the screen door to the guides’ quarters slammed and Don came out on the porch. He immediately walked up to Linda and put out his hand. “And who might you be and how do I get to know you better?”

  The doctor looked at Don and then back at Dave. “Well, this could be interesting,” she giggled. “I’m Doctor James,” she replied taking Don’s hand.

  “You know doc, I’ve been putting off getting a physical but maybe you could squeeze me in?” he asked with a smile as he still held her hand.

  Dave just shook his head. “Linda, this is my brother Don who works for the BCA and can be useful at times, but definitely not outside of work.”

  Linda finally pulled her hand away and said to Don, “Your brother and I were about to get something to eat. Would you like to join us?”

  Before Don could open his mouth, Dave answered for him. “Don will need to stay here with the technicians,” he said turning Linda towards her truck. “Doctor Adams will give me a ride home Don. The keys are in the truck. Here’s the blood sample. Give me a call when you know something,” said Dave as he felt his anger rising. It didn’t help that Linda waved at Don as she turned the truck around to leave.

  “Where to?” she asked looking over at Dave who was staring at Don with hard eyes over a frown. “Are you OK?”

  Dave could not believe how much it bothered him the way Don had talked to Linda. Don had stolen a few girlfriends from him in high school but he didn’t think that he had ever felt this intense about it. Not that he had stolen Linda or that she was even his girlfriend. ‘What in the world am I thinking?’ he thought as he watched Don retreat to the guides’ quarters.

  “Dave?” Linda asked. “Come in Dave.”

  Dave turned to her. “Sorry, just thinking about the case. And I guess I’m a little tired. Would you mind if we just went to my place?”

  A smile crossed the doctor’s face. “That sounds like a line but, in my medical opinion, you do look a little tired,” she replied slyly. “Tell me the way.”

  As she was backing up, Dave noticed Danny pulling into the dock. He guessed the deputy had nothing to report but still wanted to hear it from him as well as anything else he might have learned earlier in the day. He almost told Linda to stop when he said ‘screw it’ to himself and leaned back in the seat.

  After they arrived Dave gave Linda a tour of the cabin, quickly forgetting about his brother and how tired and hungry he was. He was excited to show her all he had done and explain what he had left to do. She seemed genuinely interested in what he had built.

  “It’s beautiful sheriff,” she said as she followed him into the kitchen.

  “Thanks,” he replied, “I built the cupboards myself.”

  “No, I mean the whole house. I love the kitchen too, the way it looks over the lake, but you’ve done a great job on the whole house. It just feels so, I don’t know, welcoming an
d relaxing. You planned this whole thing yourself?”

  Dave was beaming as he pulled a bottle of chardonnay from the refrigerator and two wine glasses down from the rack above the bar. “It has been a lot of years in the making. I don’t know how many sketches I made as I dreamed about this, never really sure if it would ever happen, but then I found this place and there wasn’t any reason not to do it.”

  Linda picked up her wine glass and walked out onto the deck. The lake was calm reflecting a nearly full moon in the east. Dave joined her and stood at her side, both leaning on the railing.

  “What would you like for dinner?” he asked. “I can make some pasta.”

  Linda set her glass on the deck railing and turned to Dave, putting her arms around his neck. “Why don’t we eat a little later?” she replied as she pulled him close and kissed him. Dave appeared stunned as she removed the wine glass from his hand and set it on the railing next to hers before taking his hand and leading him upstairs.

  An hour later Dave was laying on his back on top of the sheets, Linda on his shoulder. He didn’t think he had ever felt this good being this tired in his whole life.

  “Are you going to make me dinner now?” she whispered in his ear.

  “I think dinner is out of the question because that would mean I would have to get up.”

  Linda ran her hand down to his crotch. “Well, it doesn’t appear that anything down here is going to get up so I guess the rest of you is going to have to if we’re going to eat.”

  Dave laughed out loud and suddenly realized how hungry he was. “OK, I’ll go get it started,” he said as he swung his legs out of bed. Dave pulled on jeans and a t-shirt while Linda headed to the bathroom where Dave heard the shower start. He had the water boiling when she returned to the kitchen looking better than she had earlier in the night if that was possible.