“Oh, shit,” Swartz said and hustled to intercept Hosea, with the Outside ranger right behind him. When Hosea saw the rangers, he slowed down and changed course to join Adam at the property line.
Masterson watched them go as he brushed dirt from his trousers.
Jace said, “I want you to know I didn’t put him up to that.”
Masterson gave him a quizzical look.
“Swartz,” Jace went on. “I didn’t ask Swartz to replace you.”
“Oh, I know that, Kuliak. You’re just an innocent bystander. What else is new?”
At the property line, Swartz and the other ranger were having an animated dialog with the Prophecy boys.
“Don’t those boys run in a pack of three?” Masterson said.
“What?”
“Where’s the third son of a bitch?”
Jace had no idea where Proverbs was and didn’t care. He was more concerned with getting Masterson back to camp in one piece. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go see the Rodman.”
The Rodman stepped out from the trees, and Jace and Masterson headed his way. When they passed below the promontory, Masterson glanced up at the cameraman, who was still recording. Something about the man seemed to rub the ranger the wrong way.
“Hey, you,” he called up to him, “put that phone away.”
The man swung the phone to frame Masterson and Jace. “Hello, rangers,” he said warmly. “Would you mind identifying yourselves and repeating what you just said.”
“I said put that phone away.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll come up there and put it away for you.”
The man laughed out loud. It was a jolly laugh with no hint of malice. “Well, I hope you don’t do that, ranger, ‘cause then I’d be filming the whole thing and catch you in the act of abridging my civil rights. You know as well as I do that the U.S. Supreme Court has ruled that photographers have First Amendment rights to record law enforcement officials performing their duties, as long as we’re not trespassing or hindering or obstructing. None of which I’m doing, plainly. So please reserve your bully tactics for the peasants. Thank you.”
The guy was correct about filming cops. Jace knew it, and Masterson knew it, but that still didn’t make it right.
Masterson started climbing the bluff toward the man. Why did the guy have to mouth off? Was he looking for a beating? Feeling a little sick, Jace climbed up after Masterson, and when they reached the top, Masterson said, “Are you calling me a bully? Or a liar?”
“Is that what you heard me say?” The man chuckled. “I suppose you’re gonna hear what you want to hear.”
Masterson approached him close enough so that only the phone separated them. “Tell me this, Mr. Attorney-at-law, do you see any possible scenario in which you leave this place in possession of that phone?” He said this directly into the lens of the phone’s camera.
The man said, “What I don’t see is how it matters one way or the other where this phone ends up, ranger. You know I’m livestreaming all of this straight to the internet, don’t you?” Then to make sure he was being understood, he added, “Say hi to your fans, Ranger Ethan Parkhurst Masterson. You and your ponytailed cousin over there are live on YouTube even as we speak.”
Jace was about to call bullshit on him, but when he saw the effect the man’s lie had on his partner, he held back. Masterson turned to him and said, “Can they do that now?”
“Are you serious?” Jace said. He was about to remind him that no one had cell service on this side of Stubborn Mountain, but under the circumstances wouldn’t a little white lie be a better move? “Of course they can do it. They can do anything these days.” He waved at the phone and said, “Hi, Kate. It’s your little brother hard at work.”
Big Bad Ranger Danger seemed to deflate before his eyes. Meanwhile, the confrontation at the property line was heating up, and the stranger with the phone acknowledged his victory with a satisfied grunt before turning his attention back to it. Someone down there was shouting at someone else, but it was hard to tell who was saying what. A couple more rangers had shown up, and the Prophecys were outnumbered and outgunned.
Jace sidled up next to Masterson and said, “Come on. Let’s go. Swartz can handle this without us.” Masterson didn’t budge, and Jace went on, “So you tore up some vegetables. Big fucking deal. It’ll blow over, but only if you do what you were ordered and return to camp, right now.” He was tempted to add, Besides, cook, don’t you need to start prepping dinner?
Perhaps Masterson had been working on his character flaws since being assigned to this park because he’d somehow managed to stay out of trouble till now. Perhaps he realized he’d get no more second chances. Whatever the case, he said, “To hell with it,” and turned to follow Jace down the bluff.
CW7 1.0
NATURALLY, CALGARY, THE Cat Empress of Stubborn Mountain, chose that exact moment to return home from her successful hunt. She emerged from the trees and paused in the middle of the cutline for a fleeting instant to show off the trophy she carried in her jaws.
A Downy Woodpecker it was, a stout little fellow with black and white feathers and a small cap of brilliant scarlet on the crown of its knockabout head.
Masterson was stunned, and as he watched, the cat vanished into the yard. “Like hell!” he said and charged after her. By the time he remounted the bluff, she was halfway across the yard. He drew his revolver and took careful aim.
BOOM!
The magnum blast split the air and made everyone stop what they were doing and look. Whether Masterson’s aim was off or whether he never intended to harm the cat, his bullet thudded in the dirt off Calgary’s bow, and the shockwave was powerful enough to make her teleport away, leaving her prize behind.
Everyone watched Masterson holster his smoking Super Redhawk Alaskan revolver, watched him stride purposefully across the Prophecy yard to gather up the bird in a plastic evidence bag. Watched him return to the cameraman and present himself and the bagged bird to the whole world via YouTube.
Masterson leaned into the camera and declared, “Here’s evidence of this family’s total disregard both for this nation’s natural treasures and for her laws.”
He wagged the bag in front of the phone. “It’s a violation of park regulations to allow your pet out of your control while on park land, and here’s one dead reason why. Who do these people think they are?”
As if in answer, there was a faint click behind Masterson’s head. “Freeze!” someone said.
Masterson dropped the bird and raised his hands. “You don’t want to do this,” he said, slowly turning around “This is the last thing you want to do.” It was Proverbs, the third son of a bitch. He’d joined the party after all, using the toolshed as cover to sneak up on Masterson with a hunting rifle.
“Shut up!” Proverbs said. “It’s my turn to talk.” He wore a black leather patch on his right eye and sighted the rifle with his left.
But Proverbs wasn’t the only one able to sneak around. Jace climbed the bluff and maneuvered himself behind the Prophecy boy. He pumped a shell into the chamber of his shotgun. “Drop it!” he shouted. “Drop it now!”
For a brief eternity, no one moved. Then Proverbs slowly lowered the barrel of his rifle to point it at the ground, but he did not drop it. In a flash, Masterson drew his gun on him and echoed Jace’s command:
“Drop it! Drop it now!”
The rangers had the kid point blank from two directions. If he didn’t drop the rifle, they would surely kill him. If he sneezed, they would surely kill him. If he so much as twitched, they would surely kill him.
About this time, Jace woke up as if from a dream to find himself standing in the sun-dappled mid-morning light of a June day in Alaska, surrounded by mountain majesties, cool forests, and babbling creeks, with the bracing scent of fresh-cut spruce on the breeze. And in his hands beat the misguided heart of a particularly obnoxious and dangerous young man who seemed hellbent on dying for the sake of fa
irytales and property rights. How exactly did he, Jace Kuliak, place himself in the position where he might be compelled to kill this kid? And over what? A goddam woodpecker?
Masterson cocked his cannon and said, “Last chance, freak.”
Someone cleared his throat. “Still here, rangers,” the cameraman said merrily. “And still livestreaming.”
To Proverbs he said, “Son, I’m afraid I have to go with the rangers on this one. I know it’s not fair. I know it’s an insult to your faith and constitutional rights. I get that, and I agree with you, but if you don’t put down that weapon right now this instant, these jackboots will use it as an excuse to blow you away.”
“But you’re filming, right?” Proverbs said. “Everyone will see it.”
“What everyone will see is you being cut down by fire, son, and no one wants to see that.”
Proverbs no longer even looked at the rangers; he was focused on the phone instead.
“What crime am I committing?” he asked the world. “I’m only just defending my family from these devils. They’re the ones breaking the law. This one . . .” he nodded toward Masterson. “He was trespassing on our property. He tried to kill our cat. You saw him! He shot his gun towards the house where little kids live. He could have killed one of my brothers or sisters. No free person can stand for this kind of tyranny.” Proverbs glanced up at the cameraman. “You’re getting this, Uncle Jeff, right? You’re showing everyone?”
“I’m getting it,” the cameraman said. “Now let’s call it a day and put down the gun, okay?”
The radios squawked. The sudden noise made Jace’s trigger finger jerk. Good thing he’d moved it outside the trigger guard.
Masterson, what’s your status? Over. It was Swartz.
Maintaining his bead on the boy, Masterson unclipped his radio and brought it to his lips. “Our status is good. We’re in the middle of an inholder misunderstanding that we’re attempting to resolve. Over.”
Jace glanced down the property line and saw the other two Prophecy boys, disarmed, on their knees with their hands on top of their heads. The other rangers were covering them while Swartz spoke on the radio.
How can we assist? Over.
“No assistance necessary. Do not approach. I repeat, do not approach. Just stand by. Over.”
Standing by. Over.
Masterson put away the radio and said, “My turn, Uncle Jeff. Your viewers should know that we came onto this man’s property pursuant to a court order to conduct a land survey, nothing more. No one shot at his cat, and the woodpecker I retrieved is lawful evidence in the violation of park regulations.
“But in his haste to prejudge the situation, this young man made a poor decision and assaulted two federal officers with a deadly weapon. And for that I must arrest him and take him in. And that’s what I intend to do.” To Proverbs he said, “I’m arresting you one way or the other. So, with the world as my witness, this is your final warning: PUT DOWN THE FUCKING GUN!”
A pall fell over the boy’s face. He licked his dry lips with a dry tongue, but he did not obey the ranger’s order. One shot was all he had to his name. His hunting rifle was a bolt-action Remington, and it was doubtful that he’d be able to get off a second round. For that matter, with two guns trained on him, it was doubtful he’d get off the first.
“I am in your hands, Elder Brother Jesus,” he said.
Masterson said, “Amen,” and started closing on him.
Up at the house, the screen door slammed, and everyone glanced in that direction. Two young women were standing on the porch. They took each other’s hand, descended the steps, and set off across the yard toward the confrontation. They began singing a hymn as they came.
“Stay back!” Masterson shouted at them, but they kept coming, swaying their long skirts in time to the hymn. Their intertwined voices floated to the men on slippered feet.
O sisters let’s go down,
Let’s go down, come on down,
O sisters let’s go down,
Down in the river to pray.
When the young women had approached near enough, Jace recognized the brunette as one of the Prophecy girls he’d seen before, but the other one . . . Long, ash-blond hair to the small of her back, a fair complexion unsullied by the sun, a gorgeous figure, despite her pioneer costume. Both women looked terrified, but still they came.
O brothers let’s go down,
Let’s go down, come on down . . .
They crossed the yard, ignoring Masterson’s repeated commands, and inserted themselves between the combatants. When they tried to disarm their brother, he resisted until the totally amazing one said, “Poppy says so,” and he handed over his rifle. She kept the gun pointed at the ground as she worked the bolt, ejecting all of the cartridges, neutralizing the threat.
At some indeterminate point, Jace had also lowered his weapon, as well as his guard.
The sisters then took their brother by the arm and tried to lead him back to the house, but Masterson balked. “Oh, no you don’t. I’m placing this man under arrest.”
So the sisters started for the house without him, still singing, still swaying their hips in time to the music. Jace watched them go, watched her go. After a few paces she turned her head to glance back. Her eyes found his. That was the moment Jace knew he was a drowning man.
The shrill zip of plastic cuffs brought him back to Earth. Proverbs was compliant but unbowed as Masterson recited him his rights. The cameraman was telling the boy that he would follow him to town and find him a good lawyer when Ranger Swartz came up the cutline and climbed the bluff. He looked at the cuffed boy and Masterson and then turned to the cameraman.
“You Bridges?”
“That’s me,” the man said, turning his phone on him.
“Please follow me.”
“Uh, I don’t think so.”
“It’s all right. The excitement’s over. Adam wants to talk to you.”
Down the property line, Adam and Hosea were on their feet, unbound. Adam raised a hand and waved him over.
Left alone with their prisoner, the two rangers didn’t speak, and Jace’s mind was free to review what had happened. She had looked directly at him, hadn’t she? Did she smile? It was hard to tell. Her lips were slightly turned up at the corners so that even when she wasn’t smiling, her lips were. Her eyebrows were so fair and faint against her skin he didn’t see them until she raised them. But why did she raise them? In alarm, of course. Did he frighten her, or was it the whole situation? The situation, dummy. It was a terribly brave thing she did, marching into an armed standoff and disarming the perp, her brother. She might have been hurt. She might have been killed.
After a little while, Swartz returned, not with Uncle Jeff but with the eldest Prophecy son, Adam. The ranger used a pair of snips to free Proverbs’ hands.
“What’s going on?” Masterson demanded.
“I’m releasing him into the supervision of his brother.”
Masterson exploded. “Wait!” he said. “What the fuck are you doing? I arrested that man. He assaulted us.”
“And now he’s free to go. Go on,” he said to Adam. “Get him out of here before I change my mind.” Swartz blocked Masterson from interfering as Adam escorted his brother away.
“I’m happy to report,” Swartz told the befuddled Masterson, “that nothing happened here today.” He picked up the evidence bag from the ground, removed the tiny corpse, and flung it into the trees across the cutline.
“What are you doing?” Masterson protested. “That’s evidence. We need that.”
“No, we don’t. Not as long as I have this.” He showed Masterson Uncle Jeff’s phone.
“You fool,” Masterson roared. “You imbecile. You struck a loser’s bargain. Don’t you know that phone means nothing? He already uploaded everything. It’s already online. It’s already out there probably going viral as we speak, and you can’t get it back.”
The older ranger sighed and studied his boots. “Think, M
asterson. Tell me why, in the evenings when we call our families, why do we take turns using the satellite phone? Why don’t we just use our cells? Think.”
“But . . .” Masterson’s face clotted with anger. He glared at Jace, while Jace pretended to be someplace else.
“So, I repeat, nothing happened here today,” Swartz said, “and nothing’s gonna happen because I negotiated a truce. A twelve-hour accord. We’re going to work through the night, and none of them will interfere. I talked to Thornbras, and he says we can finish the job if we hustle. So hustle, Masterson. Return to camp and make dinner. After dinner, prep breakfast and then start striking camp. No one’s sleeping tonight, and the helo is coming for us at noon.”
CW8 1.0
IT WAS 8:00 p.m. by the time the Rodman and Jace scaled the steep slope to set the final corner and close the traverse. They carried plenty of gear, but at least they didn’t need to bring the chainsaw. They soon came across a broad footpath that seemed to be headed in the same direction they were going, so they took it and climbed in silence, breathing hard under their packs. The Rodman said, “Must lead to the mine entrance.” A little while later he added, “Your guy has rage issues, doesn’t he? My dad’s the same way. That’s why I’m at my uncle’s.”
The footpath zigzagged up a tailings slope, and it did lead to the mine. But the entrance looked more suited to a fortress than an abandoned mine. The two men paused to stare at it.
The mine adit was an immense notch blasted into the side of the mountain. The wings of the notch spread from the entrance like giant limestone thighs. Suspended high along the wings were two fortified galleries made of heavy logs. Rifle slots along the galleries gave defenders unobstructed firing angles on any intruder. The entrance gate itself was the size of a double-wide garage door. It was constructed of heavy bridge timbers and plated with a welded patchwork of scrap iron. It looked stout enough to stop a tank, or at least to slow one down.
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