by Jeff Noonan
The plan was for one of the three to walk and/or drive down the river bank alongside the raft, carrying the big rifle and staying alert for danger. The other two stayed in the raft, rowing and taking samples. Before the first day was over, they decided to rotate the jobs every two hours. The rowing was made a great deal easier by this rotation.
They had only gone about a mile when they ran into their first problem area. The river was about to make an abrupt ninety-degree turn to the left. But on the right was a steep hillside that dropped about two hundred feet to the river’s edge. The entire hillside was covered in trash. At almost the same time they noticed the hillside, the smell hit them. It was overwhelming. Mike grinned at the look on Lee’s face when the sight and smell became obvious. “That’s the St. Dubois town dump. Been there for years.”
Lee couldn’t believe his eyes. The dump was made up of every possible kind of debris, from old car bodies to paper bags filled with table scraps. Even from where he was, over a hundred feet away, he could see a cloud of scavenger birds plying their trade over and in the dump. As the raft drew closer, he thought he saw fugitive movement in the trash piles. Probably rats. The dump covered the entire hillside and ran into the river. It appeared, from where they were sitting, to be at least thirty or forty feet deep and a hundred yards wide. The stench was unimaginable.
As he looked on aghast, he saw a pickup back up to the top of the hillside. The driver got out and began throwing bagged trash over the side of the dump. The black birds rose in a cloud. Then the pickup left and the birds settled to continue their feasts.
Lee finally put his shock aside and came alive. “Okay. This is one of those special situations that Professor Davis warned us about. We need samples of the water at every ten feet from where the dump starts, all along the base of the dump and downstream of it for about five-hundred feet. This is going to be disgusting, but I guess that’s why they are paying us the big bucks, eh?”
Tony, who had guard duty and was standing on the far bank, away from the dump, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. “Have fun, you guys. Wake me when you’re done, please.” They could hear him laughing as they grimly maneuvered the raft closer to the dump.
By the time they finished gathering samples at the site of the dump, the sun was fading in the west. They pulled the raft over to where Tony was sitting on the opposite bank. It turned out that there was an old rotted pier where Tony was sitting. Tony explained to Lee that an old sawmill had operated here. Only its ruins remained standing now, but fifty years before it had been the biggest mill in Montana. Tony and Mike showed Lee the old ruins and the series of crumbling wharfs and piers that stretched down the river, around the bend and on for over a mile.
Lee shook his head. “Another one of the professor’s special cases. At least it don’t stink. But it’s gonna take some time to do a good sampling here.” He made some notes for his next weekly report.
The next day, after ten hours on the river, they finally finished sampling around the old mill. But they were disappointed to realize that, in three days on the river, they had only covered about five miles. This job was going to be a lot harder than they had anticipated
The rest of the week was less eventful. On Friday they had just passed a ranch house when Tony, who was taking samples, spotted a long turd and some accompanying toilet paper floating past them. He captured it in the sample bottle, laughing hysterically. “I bet it won’t take much testing for them to identify this pollution source.” All three had a few laughs over that sample. But it was far from the first such ‘brown trout’ they’d seen float by the raft.
Looking back upstream, they spotted a long pipe coming out of the bank parallel to the ranch house. It was dripping from a recent discharge. It was Tony who remarked on it. “Should we consider that kind of thing to be a special case?”
Mike, who was rowing, shook his head. “Too many of them. Everybody who lives on the river uses it as their sewer. We can’t possibly check every one of them that thoroughly. We’d be on the river for the rest of our lives.”
But Tony wasn’t so sure. “Let’s go over to the bank and see what Dude thinks. He’s supposed to be in charge and I’d hate to miss something and get him in trouble.”
Lee was sitting in the pickup on the road that paralleled the river at this point. When he saw them coming toward him, he got out and climbed down the bank to meet them, the long guard rifle firmly in his hand. “What’s up?”
They explained their dilemma and the three discussed it at length. Finally they decided to take samples of this one and a few others, but to just document the majority of them, if they were similar in type and size, in the weekly report. “That way, the professor will have samples and will also know how many of them we saw.”
Slowly, Mike rowed the raft back upstream and they took samples at the location of the ranch’s sewer pipe.
The second week wore on and the prisoners were getting nervous. Patty had no news until that Thursday. Then, at Sheriff Rose’s direction, she gave them a shocker. “Guys, it may just be a rumor, but I hear that Wards’ lawyers are angling to get him a plea agreement if he testifies against the crooks he worked with including some of the government guys that he apparently bribed. I hear the FBI is thinking about it.”
It was Jose that came out of his bunk to stand gripping the bars of his cell at this news. “What does that mean? What’s a plea agreement?”
“Well, as I understand it, the deal is for Wards to tell all he knows about any criminal activity he’s familiar with. In exchange, the government will probably give him a new identity and either a reduced sentence or his freedom.”
Willy came into the conversation as Jose absorbed this information. “You mean he might get off without going to prison if he squeals on the people he was working with?”
“Yep. He might be drinking martinis in California by next month if this goes through.”
Jose spoke again, “What have you heard about any lawyers for us?”
“Not a thing, guys. No one has even talked about it from all I can find out.”
Willy looked over at Jose. “That son-of-a-bitch is selling us out, my friend. He’s selling us out and going free.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, Willy!”
“Hey!” It was Patty. “You shut your mouth, Mr. Ortega! That kind of language is uncalled for!”
“Fuck you, bitch” But Jose’s heart wasn’t in it. He mumbled the expletive as he made his way blindly back to sit on the bunk, his head in his hands. Willy slowly did the same as Patty went through the cell-block door. Behind her, she could hear Willy cursing softly, almost in a monotone. She didn’t laugh until she was well out of earshot.
By the end of the second week on the river, the three had made it about twelve miles down the river. As they headed back to town, they decided that they were getting too far from home to drive back and forth every night. The winding little road they were using to parallel the river was rough going already and soon they would have to go over a very slow ferry to get to and from town. They decided to bring camping gear and just return to their homes on the weekends. All three were experienced campers and all had the necessary equipment. That weekend, they met at the grocery store and purchased supplies to bring downriver with them.
The following Monday, Willy Gohmert was escorted to the sheriff’s conference room where County Attorney Warthen and Sheriff Rose were waiting. When Willy was seated, the DA opened the conversation.
“Mr. Gohmert, your trial date is getting close, so I wanted to meet with you. You’ve pled ‘Not Guilty’ to the charges against you. But we have the testimony of several eye-witnesses that clearly saw the incidents that brought you here. We think we’ll soon have additional evidence that will tell us where you got the money we found on you also. Do you understand that?”
“What’s this additional evidence?”
“Sorry. I’m not at liberty to say. Do you want to keep the ‘Not Guilty’ defense or not?”
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“What are my options?”
“Well, pretty much either ‘Guilty’ or ‘Not Guilty’. There aren’t a hell of a lot of alternatives.”
“What good does it do me to plead guilty, then?”
“Well, that would save the Government some money on the trial and all that. So we might be willing to cut you a break on sentencing.”
Willy went silent and thought for a long time. His lips were moving with his thoughts as he worked his brain frantically. Finally, he spoke. “What if my confession gave you a bigger fish? A lot bigger fish?”
“We could possibly do some trading on the sentence if you really help the State in a bigger criminal case. But you would have to be truthful and you’d have to testify in court against whoever you’re implicating. If you lie, you’d just add the charge of perjury to all the others against you.”
Again Willy thought about it. “But if I testify in court and the guy knows that, he might kill me. I know he’d try.”
“We’ll work out a way to protect you, Willy. Let’s face it, the charges against you aren’t so big that we couldn’t work something out to keep you safe, are they? If the other fish is bigger, we can work it out.”
“Okay. Let’s say that I can give you the guy that paid me to hold up the café and rough up that waitress. Let’s say that he also paid me to not say anything about him when I got thrown in jail. Plus, I heard him threaten other people, too. Like that guy Ray Moore and his friend, Kochran. He said he was gonna kill both of them the same day to send a message to some congressmen.”
Don Warthen struggled to keep the elation out of his voice and off his face as he replied. “Gosh Willy, if this is all true and we can verify that it happened, we might have something to work with. I guess we should listen to your story, eh Sheriff?”
“Yeah, I guess we should.” Sheriff Rose got up and turned toward the coffee pot, pouring slowly as he thought about their next move.
Ray and Dawn Moore took their time driving to Flynn Lake. They stopped the pickup in the cedars and took a walk along the creek, reveling in the fresh cedar scent and the beauty of the place. Then, at Dawn’s request, Ray stopped the pickup again at the spot where Wards and his Mexican friend had stopped him and Lee. They spent a long few minutes there as Ray explained the events that had transpired on this mountainside. Then they drove on to Flynn Lake.
They stored the supplies they’d brought in the little cabin and Dawn bustled about, cleaning the dust of the past year out of the place. This was their first visit in a long time and the cabin showcased their neglect.
Ray voiced their thoughts as he helped Dawn by cleaning the places too high for her to reach. “Another couple of years and we’ll have enough in the bank to tear this place down and start building the house.”
The two had been planning this project for the past ten years. They wanted a summer home on this little lake where their children and grandchildren could enjoy the Montana outdoors the way the two of them had as children.
She turned and smiled at him. “I can’t wait.” She patted her tummy where the two of them knew a new life was starting to stir itself. Gathering her in his arms, Ray’s voice seemed choked as he replied, “Me either.”
Finally the cabin met with Dawn’s approval. After a final careful look around, she gathered a bouquet of flowers they had brought with them. “Okay my friend, it’s time for our annual pilgrimage.”
The two left the cabin and walked up the road to where it crested at the top of the hill. They stopped at the tall rock cairn that that Ray had pointed out to Lee when he’d visited. Bowing their heads, before the cairn, they both said silent prayers. When they finished, they still stood there, lost in thoughts of times long past. Finally, Dawn turned to Ray, tears running down her face. Ray’s eyes were equally moist as he enveloped her in his arms. Looking over her head at the cairn, he spoke slowly and reverently. “Another year has passed my old friend and I still miss you terribly. We all do. Every day I think of you and hope you approve of the reputation I am giving the name you lent me. I do try.” The tears were coursing down his cheeks now.
Dawn freed herself from his embrace and took his hand to lead him back to the cabin. As she walked down the hill, she looked back and softly said her farewell. “Goodbye for another year, Ray Moore1. I hope you’re living well and are in a better place. We all still remember you and you’ve become a real hero to many people around here.”
It was a Friday afternoon when the three River Rats, as they had come to call themselves, came in sight of the first town they’d encountered since leaving St. Dubois. It was a small community that both Mike and Tony were familiar with. As soon as they came into sight of the town, they noticed the now-familiar sewer pipes sticking out of the riverbank.
They had just had a long few days, sampling the area where the Flathead River merged with the Clark Fork. That had taken its toll as they fought the currents of the two merging rivers. The challenge of working their way past the town was just too much right now, so they decided to hold off on starting this area until Monday. They packed up and headed home, taking the raft and all their belongings.
When they arrived at the truck stop, they heard that a practice baseball game was scheduled for Saturday between the Town Team and whoever showed up. It would be the Town Team’s final weekend off before the League play-offs, so it would probably be the last chance for the pick-up team to play this season. All three of the River Rats signed up to play.
Saturday morning, the three met at the little home Mike and Tony shared. As agreed, they were dressed to work. The raft was absolutely filthy, with a foot-wide, solid brown crust around the raft at the waterline. Breaking out a hose and scrub brushes, they cleaned the raft inside and out, turning it over to drain. By the time they finished and cleaned themselves up, it was time for the game.
The game was great exercise and they enjoyed it immensely. It was good to get out of the raft and stretch their legs. But this time, the Town Team was ready for Lee. He got some good hits, and the team made a couple of nice plays, but the rusty pickup team was no match for the more experienced, and well-practiced, Town Team. The final score was twenty-one to seven.
As they picked up their gear and prepared to depart, Charlie Benton came over to talk to Lee. “I’ve been reading your weekly reports. It sounds about like what we had been expecting, eh?”
“Yeah, I guess so. But that town dump really threw me for a loop.”
Charlie chuckled. “Yes, it’s a real disgrace. Hopefully your samples will throw some light on this kind of thing. But that’s not why I want to talk to you.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve been talking to my town team guys and they would like to have you join them next year, if you’re still around. What do you think? There would be a pay raise involved. I can probably get you up to about $4.00 per hour.”
“Wow, Mr. Benton! That is very generous. Right now, I don’t have any solid plans, but I’m really not sure if this is the life I want to have forever. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what comes next and I haven’t made a final decision. But I promise that I’ll let you know before we close the sawmill for the winter, if that’s okay with you.”
That’s good. But don’t forget, if you decide to go back to college, you can still come here during the summer and play ball.”
“I won’t forget, sir. Thank you.”
Charlie nodded and smiled as he left to go talk to his team members.
Sheriff Rose poured his coffee slowly. “Would either of you like coffee?”
The DA declined, but Willy quickly said “Yes, please.” The sheriff filled a cup for him and brought it back to the table. He took his seat and Warthen resumed the conversation. “Okay Willy. I’m willing to do some dealing with you. I think you’re talking about Bill Wards and I’d be willing to forgive a lot of sins if I could build a good case against him.
“What’s in it for me. If I give him to you, I’ve gotta get out of here. My life
wouldn’t be worth shit if I stay in prison in this state.”
“Willy, here’s what I can do. If you give us the details of the things you talked about, in writing, and then you testify to them in his trial, I’ll drop the charges against you. But the charges will come back if you try to stay in Montana. In other words, you are to stay here in jail until you testify in court against Wards. Then I’ll let you out of jail as soon as the trial is over, providing you immediately get out of Montana. How does that sound?”
Willy’s mind was working far harder than it had in years and the strain showed on his face. He thought for a long while and then asked a question. “But what if the Feds let him go first? I’d be dead meat if he’s free.”
“I’ll guarantee you that no one will let him go, Willy. I can stop that from happening.”
“Then you got a deal.”
“Okay then Willy. I’m going to bring Mrs. Rose in here to take notes about your story while we talk. Then she’ll type it up and you’ll have to sign it. Then I’ll schedule a trial for Mr. Wards. You need to understand that you’ll stay in jail until the trial and that could be two or three months from now.”
Happiness was written all over Willy’s face. “Hell, I can do that standing on my head. Go ahead and get Mrs. Rose. I’m ready.”
Both the sheriff and the County Attorney stayed in the room as Willy gave his statement, asking questions and making sure that Willy forgot nothing. The session lasted another four hours.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: JOSE ORTEGA
Jose was sound asleep in his bunk when Willy returned to the cell-block. As soon as Willy entered, he let out a rebel yell that echoed through the closed space and brought Jose to a sitting position. “What the fuck is wrong with you, man? I was sleeping!”