by Darrel Bird
“I’m want to take an unofficial trip out beyond the res store tomorrow, could I take the Bronco out there?”
“Feel free to take it where ever you like, just remember to gas it up good before you go.”
“I got a taste of that yesterday, I had to push it the rest of the way to the station.”
“That’s pure wilderness out there where you want to go, don’t get lost, there’s no cell connection.” Bob said. “See you Gordon; I have to find a stolen car today.”
The next morning at eight Gordon got two cups of espresso, some water, and some sandwiches from Sarah, and with Satch, headed out for the mountains on the res. He drove the back way around the village and circled back deep into the mountain range that gave White Peak its name. The mountains rose majestically into high ranges that bordered Canada. Clouds covered their snowy peaks.
He sat on an overlook that looked over a valley before the mountains rose to the snow lines. He wondered how a people could be forced to live in such abject poverty in such country, “This is my home Satch, I don’t remember much except hard times with not enough to eat, but maybe if we found a place here we could be happy.” He unwrapped a sandwich, and gave it to the dog, along with a scratch behind the ears. Satch was happy because his home was where Gordon was. He looked up at Gordon to see if perhaps he had earned another sandwich.
Gordon got up to go, and that is when he heard the crack of the rifle that hit his hip with the blunt force of a sledgehammer. He lay there and looked over the rocks to catch a glimpse of a scopes reflection before that disappeared. He realized the trouble he was in because the Bronco was a half mile back through the brush, and trees. Satch had disappeared, “Satch, here boy!” He called, but the dog didn’t come.
He lay on the ground expecting another shot, but none came, he figured the person thought that he wouldn’t make it out even if he hadn’t been killed. He taken his knife and slit his pants where the bullet had entered his hip, then felt on the back of his ass cheek for an exit wound. The bullet had gone about three inches deep into his hip, and exited clean. He cut a piece out of his shirt to plug the wound on both sides. The leg was bruised around the wound from a large caliber rifle. He was a half mile from the Bronco, and it had started snowing besides. He hadn’t checked the weather forecast before he left, but he knew the sudden mountain blizzards in this part of the country could kill a man quick enough even without the wound.
He found out real quick that he couldn’t put weight on the leg, the bullet had done too much damage, and he almost passed out when he tried to lay his weight on it. He found a piece of dead wood to help him hobble along, but it was going to be slow, and if the snow kept up it would become even harder. He had gone about three hundred yards when he passed out.
He didn’t know how long he was out before he gradually came too. Someone was shaking him, “Wake up, you’ve got to wake up.” The persons face was swimming in and out of his vision.
“Try to stand up, and I will help you, my cabin isn’t far.” He thought maybe he had gone to the happy hunting ground, until he began to try to walk again. Even with assistance it was like having a hip made of ground glass.
Just when they got to a yard of sorts, he passed out again. He awoke the next morning about seven in a bed, and it was warm and comfortable inside the two room shack he was in. A woman was cutting meat on a table across the room, and when he saw her face, he thought it was the most beautiful face he had ever seen.
“Who are you?” He asked.
“Oh, I see you are awake. My name is Gale Lone elk.” She laid down the knife, and walked to a sink to run a glass of water, and brought it to him. He took the water, and drank it all, and he noticed his hand shook. She took a chair and sat down by his bed.
“You lost a lot of blood last night, we need to get you to a hospital soon, I cleaned the wound as best I could, but there is still a good chance of a bad infection. I brought your car up, and I think the snow has let up enough that we can drive out.”
“I must have passed out.”
“You were in and out and I had to drag you most of the way, my cabin sits above where I found you so I had a time of it.”
“I was shot.”
“I know, do you know who shot you?”
“No, I only caught a reflection from his scope after he shot me.”
“Are you a real FBI agent, or is that a fake ID you carry?”
“Its real.”
“We don’t get many of those up here. What were you doing up here?”
“Really just looking the country over, someone must have followed me from White Peak.” He decided not to give out more information just yet.
“What are you doing way up here alone?” He asked.
“Who says I am alone?”
“Your one set of boots by the door among other things. Everything in this house says you live here by your self.”
“Very observant Mr….?
“Gordon Masterson.”
“You are Indian.”
“I changed my name when I left the res.”
“Oh.”
“What are you doing living up here by yourself, if I may ask?” Gordon asked.
“I have a government contract to keep an eye on the wolves, and bear in this area. I study their habits, and range. I have a degree in wild life biology from the University of Montana. Can you eat? We need to get your strength up a little before we get you off the mountain.”
“Yes, I think I can.”
She brought him a kind of mush that had a fatty taste to it, “What is in this?”
“Corn meal and some bear fat along with sugar, and cinnamon, I had to shoot a young one who lost his mother. He would have starved, but all things have their purpose. He saw you coming, and knew you needed his strength, so he gave himself unselfishly.”
“Do you really believe that stuff?”
She smiled, “Maybe not, but all things have their uses, do they not?”
“Including Indian superstition when it suits you?” He smileed back.
“I’ll get the car turned around. Then we’ll get you into it, and to the hospital in White Peak.”
When she returned she got his boots on him, “Put you arm around my shoulder, and we’ll walk you out. I cleared the snow off the steps.”
When he put weight on the leg, again he felt like his hip had turned to ground glass, but she was able to get him down the front steps of the cabin, and into the Bronco. He put his left leg in, and then pulled himself into the passenger seat. He groaned, and almost passed out again. She shut the door and walked around to the driver’s seat, and they were on their way back down the rough road.
At the hospital in White Peak, she had them bring a stretcher, and he sort of rolled onto it. The nurse gave him a shot for the pain, and he faded mercifully into unconsciousness. He awoke five hours later with an IV drip hanging from a rack by his bed, and a monitor keeping track of his vital signs.
A doctor came into the room, “I see you are awake.” He came over with a tongue depressor, “Say aww.”
After the doctor was done prodding and poking he said, “We are going to transfer you to another room in a few minutes, looks like you will live. You have to stay off the hip for awhile, and let it heal.”
Five minutes later two nurses came into the room, unhooked him for the monitor, and rolled him and the IV to another room. Later on the sheriff walked in.
“How are you doing Gordon?”
“I’ve been better, could you get me a cell phone Bob?”
“Did you get a look at who shot you?” He asked, not answering the question.
“Only a reflection of his scope, he didn’t shoot except the one time, I think he thought the country would kill me even if I wasn’t dead.”
“I expect that’s about right, he didn’t figure on Gale Lone Elk being up there, which means they don’t live around here or the res, else they would have tried to finish you off. They were probably hired out of Billings to keep an eye on you, sa
w the opportunity and took it.”
“Could you get me a cell Bob? I need to call my main office in Chicago.”
“Here, you can use mine, but take it easy a while Gordon, I’ll take care of things until you get on your feet. I left the Bronco outside for you when you get able to use it.”
“I’m getting fond of that old truck sheriff.”
“She’s dependable, it belonged to one of my deputy’s who was killed in the line of duty, and I’ve kept her in good condition.”
“Thank you sheriff, you’ve been a good friend to have.”
“I return the compliment Gordon.”
After the sheriff left he dialed the Chicago office, “Rupert here.”
“Rupert, this is Gordon.”
“Gordon, where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you!”
“I’m in a hospital in White Peak Rupert, somebody tried to kill me, they got me in the hip.”
“Damn you Gordon, you have raised a stink out there, I got a complaint from Washington says you threatened to put a BIA agent through a wall, then I get a complaint from the BIA in Billings Montana saying you are demanding stuff from their office!”
“I only asked for an account report for three mil that’s gone missing. If