by Brian Gore
"This, Ben Jensen, has a ranch west of the campground. Should be able to find such a place, without too much trouble, don't you think?" he asked, without expecting an answer. "You boys finish your food. We got somewhere to be." Jamal said as he attacked that remaining on his own plate.
A few minutes later, the Yukon was rolling back north headed back into the country around Lodge Pole Creek Campground.
After a couple hours of several dead ends and conversations with a couple of wary ranchers, apologizing for being lost, and driving by mistake into their ranch yards, they turned onto the graded dirt road, between Lodgepole Creek Campground and Columbus. The road that led west, past the gate at the end of the ranch road into the Rafter J... Ben's Ranch.
Jamal had come up with the idea to tell the last rancher they'd talked to, that; "They had heard Ben Jensen was an outfitter in the area, and they wanted to talk to him about that. Their problem was, being city boys, they had gotten the directions to his ranch all confused. Did he know how to get to the Jensen Ranch?"
With clear directions, they'd back tracked to Hwy 78, turned north again... and were now, closing on their prey once again.
"He said, there was, an overhead he called it, a gate at the end of the road we're looking for. It'll be on the left. He said it would have a thing hangin' on the gate. Would look like the letter J with a rooftop looking bar over the top of it. He said the gate would only be maybe four miles up this road" Jamal told Musa, who was driving.
It was two thirty when the Yukon turned in and stopped under the weathered overhead that carried the brand of the Jensen Ranch, the Rafter J.
"OK, no jackin' aroun' this time. You hear? We go in there. We take down that fucking cowboy... we grab that bitch and the money and we get out of here. One of you, Terrance, you bring that red car she's driving. We don' wan' to leave anything that might be tracked back. You all understand? We'll burn it somewhere, once we're clear of here. If any of you fire your weapon, you pick up your damn brass. We leave nuthing in this shit hole, but tracks, and one, dead, mahn. Otherwise, you don't even spit on the ground. You all understand?" Jamal demanded.
With everyone in agreement of what was to happen, Jamal gave Musa the command to pull on up the road... and as soon as he saw the house or cars, to hit it hard and run in as fast as he could...
Chapter 18
Ben sat up just after sunrise, in the bedroll he'd laid out on the porch. He'd surrendered what privacy the cabin might afford to Amanda and Timmy for the night and slept outside. He'd slept in his jeans, not knowing what the night might offer. Throwing back the cover, he pulled on his boots, before standing up and stamping his feet into the worn and scuffed leather.
When he looked across the yard he smiled. He'd slept well enough through the night that he'd not heard the horses come in. Likely arriving in the early morning, most were already in the corral working on the hay in the bunk. The few stragglers still outside, he easily pushed in and closed the gate.
A quick head count reassured him that every animal he'd brought off the mountain had come home. It was starting off to be a good day. But then, yesterday morning, the same thought had occurred to him...
As Ben walked back across the ranch yard toward the ramshackle little cabin the door opened and Amanda stepped outside.
"Damn" he thought, smiling to himself; "Be a lucky man to wake up to that every day!"
"Morning Amanda. You two sleep ok?" he asked.
"We did Mr. Jensen." she smiled back. "Truth is, Timmy is still sleeping. This Montana air has just knocked him out I guess."
"Yeah well, that or the fact you're up almost to six thousand feet altitude. A little higher than Chicago, especially if you're not used to it!" Ben replied.
"We've got to get moving today Amanda. We've got to get the hell out of here. I can't help but believe we're pushing our luck sitting here. I don't want to find out we've stayed here too long as it is. I'm going to have to do a few chores so the horses are OK for a couple days... but then, we gotta roll."
"OK Ben... but why? They haven't got any idea who you are. And you're not the only cowboy in Montana. How are they going to find you?"
"Look Amanda. I got lucky. They were surprised and that gave me a big advantage. But now, those boys are warned. They might be city boys Amanda, but they aren't green. I might not be the only twister left in Montana, but the country sure ain't overloaded with us. It's just a matter of time, before they find me. They find me, they find you... so, we got to go!"
"Ok, just asking. I'll make breakfast, while you do your chores."
"Good, guess I'll get back to my chores for a while then." With that, he turned and walked back toward the corral.
His horses were range raised and mountain smart. He didn't need to worry about them over eating, so he loaded the bunk with as much hay as he could stuff in, and drug a couple unused water troughs in, to do double duty as feed bunks. These he loaded up with hay as well.
With that done he returned to the cabin, walked in through the door Amanda had left open and sat at the table. He watched her sorting through the meager supplies he had in his cooler and supplementing with that from hers.
Timmy had woke up and was sitting at the table. He was quietly drinking orange juice from a small paper cup, still a bit groggy with sleep.
While she finished up preparing some eggs, bacon and coffee for their breakfast Ben thought quietly about what he should do... and an idea began to form.
The more he thought about it... the more her words rang in his ears. "they seem to find us no matter where we hide."
"These guys aren't amateurs. They might be townies... but they're smart townies... maybe..." and his thoughts trailed off as Amanda stepped up to the table with a plate piled up with his breakfast.
"Damn Amanda, that looks enough for two men! You must be used to cooking for a crew of those big fellas!" he exclaimed.
She laughed and started to say; "Eat drink and be merry..." before her face went solemn and her voice trailed away.
" 'cause tomorrow we die?" Ben Laughed.
"Sorry... it just slipped out." she said.
"No worries girl. What's the use of livin'... if you can't laugh at it?" and Ben went to work on the hearty meal she'd served up. She even brought him a plate of toast she'd buttered and toasted in the frying pan.
Once the food was finished off, Ben told Timmy; "Boy? Take your crayons and your book, and go set on the porch for a bit. Your Momma and I need to talk, Ok?"
"Yes sir." Timmy responded quietly.
"Good boy." Ben told him, rubbing the top of his head as he passed walking to the door. "We'll only be a few minutes." The boy smiled at the cowboy, and went on outside to do his coloring.
"Sit down Amanda. Let's get this hashed out."
"Yes sir" she told him, meekly sitting down in a chair. "Are you going to rub the top of my head too?"
"Wha... you... Damn, lady, you just don't give a guy a break do you?" he laughed, and reached over the table, to rub the top of her head... and thought how nice it would be to...
"Shove that thinking right out of your head old man!" he thought to himself. "You go confusing things with such craziness, and you'll find yourself in a jackpot you can't handle ya old fool!"
"Look" he told her. They're coming. Sure as the Pope is Catholic, they're coming. Today, tomorrow, the next day... they'll be, right here!" Ben poked the table top with his finger for emphasis.
"When they get here, we need to be long gone; and, I need to have you in a place they can't find. Someplace there's no possible way they can connect the dots to find."
He tossed a small notepad down on the table top. His idea, floating around in his head again, was starting to come clear.
"There's a guy I used to know. From years ago, back when I did some outfitting. He had a couple of hunting camps down here, and one up on the east side of the Bob. He died last year... just up and fell over. His whole outfit, horses, mules, all the gear, got sold off in an auct
ion last fall... all except those hunting camps.
Last I heard, his wife was holding on to that real estate for a while. But, they're not being used. Just sitting there doin' nuthin'. His kids have all moved back east somewhere. There's a few small cabins, not as high grade as this one" he allowed a sarcastic smile; "But they'll do, and it's a few hundred miles from here. Hunters Cabins and a main Lodge. They're remote, not hard to get to, but out of the way for sure. I'm thinking, I'll give her a call. Heard she moved in with a daughter down in Florida..."
"The Bob?" Amanda asked.
"Oh, yeah, the Bob Marshall Wilderness. Just about the biggest, wildest bit of country left in Montana, or the whole damn country for that matter. You'll be safe there... until I can... sort all this out."
As he was talking, Ben wrote out the directions, turn by turn to the cabins on Deep Creek, a ways above Gibson Reservoir, then tore out the page and handed it to Amanda. "You'll drive my old truck. It ain't much, but it'll get you there. You've got plenty of cash to get gas" he grinned.
"When you get there, look beside the steps of the main Lodge, on the left. There should be a big rock there. Turn it over, you'll find a key there."
At the look he got from Amanda he explained. "Look. Lots of locals go snow mobiling, and snow shoein' up there come winter. Sometimes they get caught by a storm or breakdown, and need a place to ride it out. Blythe always left the key there when he'd shut the place down for the winter, and ever'body knew it. It's a gamble, but I think it unlikely Ann picked that key up when she pulled up stakes, just not like her."
He tore out the next couple pages and wadded them up. As he continued talking he kept on writing on the note pad, slowly printing each word with his pencil. "I'm going to take that lil' red car of yours, and dump it. They've seen it. They're looking for it. They know the plates... we can't keep anything around they might be able to use to find you. So... I'll take it and get rid of it, then meet you at the cabin. Got it?"
"Alright... Ben?" she asked, sounding very tentative.
Ben looked up as he finished his writing, curious at the tone in her voice. "What?"
"I don't mean this to sound like I'm sure you'll take it... but... do you know what you're doing?"
He just looked at her for a few seconds and laughed. "I've done more in my life than just chase cows Amanda. Yeah, I do. For the first time, in a long time, I know. I know exactly, what I'm doing."
"This is something I truly do know. Believe me. This, what is about to land on your old friend, Tyrone and his boys, is something I know, a lot, about... and they ain't got no idea what's comin'. No idea at all Amanda. Fact is, that advantage I told you I'd lost? Well" he laughed again; "I just remembered where I put it!"
Something in his voice, and the cold black gleam in his eyes, made Amanda shudder. There was so much about this man she didn't know. So much she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
"So girl, here's how we'll do this..." Ben spoke as he tore the second note he'd written out of the notebook, and along with the two other pages he'd crumpled up, tossed them all into the fire in the stove.
"We'll move all your gear into the bed of my truck. I'll gas it and your car up from the ranch tank here, before we leave. That way we won't need to stop anywhere and increase our risks. I'll follow along with you till we get to Three Forks. That puts us well out of this area, and anywhere they'll be looking. Then you'll turn north for the cabin, and I'll split off for a while to dump that car. Oh, and I'm going to send A.H. with you... Ok?"
"Ok Ben. You're the boss." Amanda agreed, though she didn't look at all sure. And, the thought of that monster brute alone with her and Timmy in that beat up old truck was not an especially comforting thought.
"We're going to take him with us?" She asked hesitantly.
"Yeah, don't you go to the movies ever?" he asked.
"The Movies?"
"Yes ma'am. When the bad guys show up, the bastards always shoot the good guys dog! A.H. might not be much, but I'll not consign his sorry ass to that fate!" Ben exclaimed.
Amanda covered her mouth in an attempt to stop her laugh. "Ben Jensen, you are awful" she retorted in reply. Ben just grinned at her.
As they walked out of the cabin to move the few bags and possessions of Amanda and Timmy into the truck, she asked; "By the way, what does A.H. stand for?"
Ben looked at her, and then up on the porch to see where Timmy was... looked back at Amanda, and grinning said; "Ass Hole." Amanda just shook her head.
With all the camp gear moved from the car to the truck, and the coolers loaded, Ben pulled each vehicle over to the ranch fuel tank, sitting on a stand beside the tack shed, and filled both with fuel.
Once everything was ready to go he told her. "Let's just have us a quiet lunch sitting here on the porch... and enjoy a few quiet minutes, before..." he said with a shake of his head; "before we go on the run."
Standing at the tail gate of the truck with the food coolers open, Amanda built them each a sandwich. She put them on paper plates and along with a few chips and a can of soda for each, she carried their lunches over to the two "Men" sitting on the porch.
She wondered at the gentleness of the man as she watched him talking with her son. How could someone as explosive and violent, still be so gentle? It amazed her and confounded her. In her experience, a violent man was only someone to be feared. Yet, with this man, whose violence she'd witnessed first hand, she only felt safe.
They sat in the shade of the porch, enjoying their simple meal, sharing a short, quiet, time. Ben laughed at stories she told him about Timmy and his antics, and tickled the boy as they laughed together. Amanda and Timmy marveled at stories he shared with them about horses, bears, cows and the High Rockies.
For someone who was living through the twilight, right before what they knew would be the coming of a great storm, it was a wondrous, joyous time.
After the conversation slowed down, and they'd spent a short time just watching the horses in the corral, Ben looked at his watch and exclaimed as he jumped up; "Damn! It's after two O'clock! We got to get gone Amanda! and we got to get gone now!"
She got Timmy strapped into his car seat that they'd moved to the truck, while Ben coaxed A.H. into the back. With the boy and the dog loaded, she climbed in herself, turned the key and fired up the battered old rig, with its' usual cloud of blue smoke. "Nice" she commented with a smile.
"Just go woman!" Ben told her urgently, slapping the door with his hand; "I'll be right behind you."
Ben ran back into the cabin and pulled his Marlin 30-30 off the deer leg rifle rack above the door as Amanda started rolling out of the yard.
He jumped into the Saturn and in a cloud of dust, bumped and fishtailed down the ranch road as well, following Amanda and his truck. They were now, officially, on the run. When they hit Hwy 78 the smoking old truck and the little red Saturn turned north toward Columbus and had just dropped over the crest of the hill, a couple of hundred yards up the road, when a black Yukon came around the bend just south of the intersection and turned west, onto the county road.
Chapter 19
The Yukon crested the last rise approaching the ranch and accelerated into the yard, sliding up in a cloud of dust. All four doors flew open as Jamal and his crew clambered out, ready for anything.
But, the yard was silent. The horses over in the corral did no more then raise their heads in curiosity. Men fanned out across the ranch looking in the few sheds and then collected on the porch of the cabin.
Jamal said; "They were here. There's fresh tracks in the dust." He stood in the door of the cabin that he'd kicked open and just looked around. "This Mahn, he live like a dog!"
As he stood there looking, a notepad and pencil, lying on the table caught his attention. He walked over and when he picked it up to look closer at it, he noticed something. Sitting quickly in one of the rickety chairs he took the pencil, and holding it laying sideways against the pad, quickly, lightly, shaded the top sheet with the pencil.
> As if by magic words began to appear on the paper; "Pinewood Estates - Ennis hwy 287."
Jamal looked up, grinning at the others, who had all come into the small room, curious at Jamal's sudden intensity. "Ha!" He exclaimed, holding up the notebook. "The damn fool mahn left us directions! Let's go where they ran to, and thank him for the help!"
The Yukon turned north on Hwy 78 not much more then a half hour behind the fleeing pair. They refueled in Columbus, got some coffee and more road food, climbed back in the Yukon and rolled up onto I-90, headed west. Shortly over two hours after rolling out of Columbus they drove into the center of Ennis, Montana, having not seen any signs or gates proclaiming "Pinewood Estates" on their drive in along the highway.
Hunting directions, they pulled into a convenience store on the edge of town so Jamal could inquire inside. In less than a minute he came back out, climbed in the back and told Terrance who was now driving; "West on 287, about 7 or 8 miles... there's a road off the right. It's a summer cabin area... she said there's a sign, she said you can't miss it."
Just as the store clerk described, a large green and white sign proclaimed "Summer Resort Homes from the low $200's" with a big red arrow at the bottom pointing up the road.
"Pull over here Terrance."
Jamal went through their plan of attack again. "We'll drive 'roun' till we see the car. We'll drive in fast, close as we can get... then ever'body out and ready. If they're outside just kill that son-of-a-bitch! but don' hurt that girl mahn! Her we got to take back to Tyrone. The mahn? Don' fuck wit' him. Just kill the dog, you got it?"
"What if they inside mahn?" Devon asked.
Jamal looked at him and said coldly; "Then, we kick the door down, and kill him inside."