Undercover in Conard County

by Rachel Lee

  She seemed to be doing fine, however, scrabbling up over loose scree easily, edging down into ravines with an instinct for the next place to put her foot.

  As the day grew brighter, she used the binoculars more, and sometimes passed them to him. A couple of times, in a sheltered place, they paused to take a drink and eat power bars.

  They were getting closer. He could feel it. Having surveyed the terrain maps yesterday, they were stamped on his brain like a photograph. Now he scoured the ground ahead of them looking for traps and triggers, because there was always a possibility this guy had set a perimeter.

  As noon approached, the forest remained relatively quiet. A lot of wildlife had evidently moved downhill to warmer temperatures. Whatever was left was making little noise. A wind began to stir the tops of the trees, however, and wood began to creak around them as frigid tree trunks stretched unwillingly. More snow plopped from above.

  Desi picked a sheltered rock, bare of snow, to perch on, and he joined her. Together they pulled out a meal of jerky and power bars.

  “My kingdom for some coffee,” she remarked quietly.

  He grinned. “That sure sounds good.”

  “At this point I’d take it frozen into ice cubes.”

  He laughed silently, not wanting to disturb the relative silence that sheltered them.

  While she gnawed on a tough piece of jerky, he said, “I want you to keep a sharp eye out for anything out of place. Maybe I’m overly cautious from my years in the Rangers, but I want us watching for trip lines and traps.”

  She arched a brow. “He’s not expecting us.”

  “Maybe not. But if he’s running an illegal operation, he might want warning if anyone’s approaching the camp. So he can get his clients out of the way.”

  She nodded slowly, chewing. “Makes sense. Well, since I’m not sure what to look for, you lead the way.”

  She stared off into the woods, jerky forgotten, then said, “I hope I didn’t make a mistake not trusting anyone with this.”

  “You trusted the sheriff. And you know darn well you couldn’t have mobilized a task force just because there was a large campsite up here.”

  “No.” She sighed and looked at the jerky in her hand. “You’ll never know how many times I tracked down something like this on my own. Usually individuals or families who were ignoring the law, like baiting game and so on. And every time I came out here alone, I knew the people I was looking for were armed. It’s always dangerous. But when I had my evidence that something was wrong, I called for backup. Depending, two or three of us would make the approach together.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed.

  “But this is different. I don’t know there’s anything wrong. Except that Lefty didn’t think it was right.”

  “What do you think of him?”

  She half smiled. “Mostly a good guy who occasionally likes to play on the shady side, especially when it comes to fishing. But not a big problem as far as I know.”

  He nodded. “Well, I hope I don’t offend you, but I didn’t like Fetcher at all.”

  She sighed. “He can be hard to take, but it’s gotten better. I’m pretty sure he thought he should be promoted and not me.”

  Kel tucked that away for future consideration. Fetcher was resentful. Could be dangerous. Lefty was shady but not bad. As far as Desi knew.

  Hell. At least one person knew they were climbing this mountain in addition to the sheriff.

  His guard rose another dozen notches.

  * * *

  The mountain grew kinder after that. Once they’d put away their lunch, such as it was, and started out again, Desi followed behind Kel and had to admit she enjoyed watching him walk.

  But that was not their purpose here. They were getting closer to the camp Lefty had told them about. It might be nothing, but if it wasn’t innocent, they could be heading straight into serious trouble. Especially given that Don had been shot.

  She was used to walking into potentially dangerous situations. What could be more dangerous than confronting armed hunters with violations that could take away their weapons and their right to hunt for years? Fine them more than they could afford? All this time she’d been lucky. She hadn’t yet met someone who thought killing a warden would be the smart response to getting caught.

  This situation was different and she knew it. A whole ring of poachers, probably pulling in hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, had a lot more to lose than hunting privileges and gun. Reputations would be lost, any future chance of making that kind of money gone...and depending how many instances they could be charged with, a lot of time in prison.

  In fact, it might expose some very important people.

  The more she and Kel had talked about this situation, the more convinced she had grown that there were important, recognizable faces behind this operation. A politician maybe. A judge. Who knew? But someone seemed to be getting some payola to keep this under wraps and divert resources in the wrong direction.

  Because this whole plan of sending Kel out here as competition had a remote chance of working, but only a remote one. How much threat could one guy pose to the ring? None, unless he discovered who some of them were. They could have safely ignored him, at least until he grew a big enough business that he was cutting in on them.

  She didn’t like this at all. Not at all.

  And looking at Kel marching so steadily in front of her, she wondered which of them had been the target of all this. Kel hadn’t been around that long. She’d been around long enough, and made enough noise, that she might be the real problem.

  She felt sick that Kel had been dragged into this, whatever it was. She didn’t want anything to happen to him. Not one little thing. He’d done his public service in the Rangers, risking everything repeatedly. Protecting wildlife shouldn’t put him through the same risks all over again.

  Then she shook herself and decided she was being ridiculous. Kel had volunteered for this just as she had. And depending on what they found up this mountain, they might actually do some good.

  Then she heard a howl. She froze, as did Kel. Another howl joined the first, and she stood riveted by the magic of the wolves of Thunder Mountain.

  Kel looked back at her and smiled, saying nothing. She gathered he enjoyed the chorus as well. Seven wolves harmonizing until they sounded like more than a dozen. A magnificent chorus, one that stirred an atavistic reaction of chills running down her spine. But not frightened chills. The kind of chills she got when a piece of music finally delivered everything it had been building toward.

  Then the crack of a gun firing shattered the harmony. Silence fell.

  Desi started to charge toward it but Kel caught her arm. “No.”

  “If that guy killed a wolf...”

  “Shh. You getting dead isn’t going to help the wolves.”

  God, she hated that he was right. Fury had risen in her, and she knew one thing: if someone had shot a wolf he was going to wish he’d never been born.

  The struggle to keep this wolf pack had been extraordinary. Found on private land, they could be shot. Then the governmental protections were removed and anybody could hunt wolves in the state. Then the courts had restored the protections but that didn’t mean they weren’t still hunted if someone thought they could get away with it.

  While she fully understood the concerns of ranchers, she was also truly aware of how important those wolves were to the overall ecology. Just one small wolf pack. A splinter group from Yellowstone. A constant tug-of-war over decades between worried ranchers and concerned conservationists.

  If a wolf had been killed, the wrong wolf, that pack would break up and death would ensue for most of them.

  She swore under her breath and resumed her trek behind Kel.

  The duff was silent beneath their feet. Considering
how much snow had supposedly fallen the night before last, she was surprised not to see more of it beneath the trees.

  All of sudden, Kel stretched out an arm, a silent warning to stop. She halted immediately, waiting, and watched as he crouched.

  “Come up beside me,” he said slowly. “Carefully.”

  She took two steps and before she squatted she saw exactly what had him concerned: there was a thin wire stretched between the trees.

  “Now look to the left and right.”

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. The trip wire extended as far as she could see.

  “It’s an alarm,” he said quietly. “But now we have to be careful of other kinds of traps. Anywhere the ground looks the least disturbed, avoid it.”

  “Okay.” What were they dealing with here? But she knew. People who killed for sport and broke the law. They probably wouldn’t be above killing people either.

  * * *

  Randy was making lunch when he heard the gunshot. Good, the damn tenderfoot had probably shot his ram. He continued cooking sausage and fried potatoes while keeping the coffee warm on the end of the cookstove. That was his other job: cook for the hunters, set up the camp, strike the camp, help carry the trophy if necessary. Might not be necessary since they’d probably only bring the head.

  The only part of this damn job he didn’t like was wasting the meat. He understood they couldn’t risk taking it, but he was enough of a true hunter himself that he loathed the wastage.

  He turned the sausages, filling the woods with good smells, feeling perfectly safe since his trip wires had sent no warning. Whatever that damn warden and her phony friend were up to, there was no reason to think they had to arrive today.

  Hell, he’d have at least expected an overflight to look for the camp. And Lefty, as far as he knew, hadn’t given the most accurate directions. Those two could wander for miles without finding this place.

  Smiling, he hummed an old trail song, sure that he’d be feeding two guides and one hunter before much longer.

  * * *

  Desi paused and touched Kel’s arm, stopping him. “We’re going the wrong way.”

  He looked at her. “The coordinates...”

  She shook her head. “Use your nose. Can you smell frying sausage? It’s faint but it’s coming from that direction.” She pointed.

  He turned his head slowly, drawing short breaths through his nose, then expelling them quickly. “You’re right. It’s not breezy enough to deceive us.”

  No it wasn’t, she thought. With the midday, the normally restless air had quieted, in stasis until the temperatures started to change again. Up here, calm air was rare, but they had it right now and frying food acted like a beacon.

  “I don’t know if they’re expecting us,” she said.

  “They shouldn’t be,” he answered. “But just in case.”

  “Exactly. We go in as if they’re waiting for us.”

  He looked around again. “And watch your footing. That wasn’t the best trip wire job I’ve ever seen, but the guys who set it up may be capable of adding other surprises.”

  She nodded, accepting his judgment. “Should we spread out and circle in?”

  “Absolutely. And keep in mind there may be more of them than us.”

  She turned so she looked directly at him. “I’m the warden here, Kel. I should approach them first.”

  She watched his face and realized that it was killing him to agree. But finally he nodded. “Consider me your sniper in the trees if you need one.”

  “Thanks.” She meant that in more than one way. He trusted her to do her job, even if he wasn’t happy about it. Well, she wasn’t happy about it either, but it was her job as warden. She alone had the legal right to walk into that camp and demand explanations. She was glad he understood that and accepted it.

  When they approached close enough to the campsite to hear voices and clattering utensils, and even a horse’s whinny, they split up, circling around. With a hand signal, Kel gave her one more warning to watch out for booby traps.

  She nodded and moved slowly, carrying her shotgun casually in one arm, pointed downward, as she would when approaching anyone. No reason to tell these guys she suspected them of any wrongdoing. And it was always possible this camp was innocent.

  Still, tension wound her nerves tight, and she had to make an effort to keep her muscles relaxed so she didn’t make a misstep. From somewhere in the depths of her mind came a line from Shakespeare:

  “Once more unto the breach...”

  * * *

  Kel thought Desi was being entirely too sanguine about this. Yeah, he knew it had been years since a Wyoming warden had been shot on duty, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen again. He got that she was used to most people not going that far, and whatever legal penalties awaited these guys, they couldn’t come close to a murder rap. But still, he’d have given anything for a few men from his unit right now. A better perimeter, more protection.

  But this was just supposed to be a courtesy call, right? She’d chat them up, ask to see their permits, and if there were no evidence of any wrongdoing, she’d move on. If any evidence was in view, he’d be surprised. These guys must be more careful than that.

  He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  * * *

  Randy started serving the lunch he’d kept warm to the hunter and the two guides. He wasn’t sure what they’d shot, but he had a pretty good idea from the sheer size of the tarp-wrapped bundle they’d returned with on horseback that it was a bighorn ram’s head.

  Dang thing was so heavy it probably weighed a third of the ram’s total weight, close to a hundred pounds. Not something easy for a man to carry out and plenty of reason to be hunting with buddies. Or horses.

  The dogs were swirling around, sniffing at the wrapped head, and he whistled for them, chaining them so they wouldn’t tear it open.

  Damn it. Those dogs were good protection, but his own skin would be worthless if he let them damage a trophy.

  The two guides, Ted and Will, lounged in the folding chairs holding plates of food. Their hunter was as excited as a man could be. He wanted to keep talking about the kill.

  Randy wished he’d shut up. Even though his trip wires hadn’t warned him that anyone was approaching, so no one was eavesdropping, Randy hated listening to it. Something inside him rebelled at the guy’s pride and boasting when Randy knew full well he’d never have bagged his trophy without the two guides sitting there and nodding quietly in response to his every comment.

  Hunters like that guy were incapable of doing the job themselves. They wanted to fly in, have their hands held, be led to the game, and if necessary be assisted in the perfect shot. They’d go home with their bragging rights and their trophy and never let on that they weren’t the big game hunters they claimed to be.

  It was a living, Randy reminded himself. A good living, even for him. And most of the time he never saw these jackasses again. Oh, they had some repeat business, but most of the time it went to other teams for security reasons. No one should be able to easily identify anyone else.

  Except the big honcho who greeted these guys at the ranch and pretended to be the man who owned the outfit. A front, a guy who could disappear in hours if necessary.

  They had pretty good secrecy, Randy decided as he watched the hunter eventually settle enough to eat. A good operation. Better than some he’d worked for.

  But then there were some cracking twigs. Randy stood up immediately and reached for his shotgun. So did the two guides. The hunter merely looked surprised by their reaction.

  “Maybe it’s one of the wolves from that pack,” remarked Ted.

  “It should have tripped my alarms,” Randy said uneasily.

  Will waved the objection aside. “They found the kill. Maybe tracked the troph
y. Well, we can take care of them, too.”

  Randy held no great fondness for wolves, but he figured that was apt to buy a whole peck of trouble, a bigger one. “Leave the wolves,” he said. “They won’t come close to the dogs.”

  Will looked at him. “What? You a wolf lover?”

  “No, but you kill a whole pack and somebody’s gonna notice. No need, they won’t come close to the dogs.” He spoke emphatically. God, while the local wardens hated the trophy hunting, they’d go all out if their precious wolf pack disappeared.

  More cracking of twigs, then a woman walked into the small clearing. Oh, for Pete’s sake, the warden. No warning. How had she managed that?

  “Afternoon, gentlemen,” she said pleasantly. “How’s the hunting?”

  The hunter had apparently been warned to keep his yap shut. Will answered. “Nice to see you, Warden Jenks. We’re just looking around. No hunting.”

  “Odd time of year to go camping,” she smiled, stepping closer, shotgun casually in the crook of her arm. “What are you looking for?”

  “Game,” Will replied. “We’re scouting for Ted here. He has a moose permit.”

  The warden smiled. “Hey, that’s cool. Those are hard to come by. But the moose are lower down.”

  Everyone in the camp tensed. It was going down, thought Randy. Now. He perched on the table, hand resting on his own loaded shotgun, though he didn’t lift it.

  “Mind if I see that permit, Mr....?”

  “Bloom,” Ted answered. He reached for his wallet. A wallet that was right near his holstered pistol.

  “Move slowly, please,” the woman said pleasantly. “You can understand it’s a little tense dealing with so many armed people.”

  “Sure,” said Ted, smiling. He started to pull out his wallet.

  * * *

  Desi watched the man pulling out his wallet, but she was horribly aware of the growing tension from the other men. She was willing to bet this guy didn’t have a valid permit, but rather something he was going to try to pass off, and point out he was allowed to bring two friends with him to hunt. He was in exactly the wrong place for moose. However, over the next rise, he could find himself a bunch of bighorns who were just starting to get interested in mating. The moose usually steered clear of that display.