Chapter Twenty-Two

 

 

Devils Tower Junction, Wyoming

 

Rene watched with satisfaction as the first State Patrol car screamed by, siren blaring. He was parked just north of Devils Tower Junction, a ridiculously small town that existed solely to sell T-shirts and souvenirs to Tower visitors. He’d studied his Wyoming map until he figured out where to set the fire and where to park and wait for his prey to run out of the woods. He had never taken an interest in hunting but he’d gone on a couple of pheasant hunts in France once. The beaters interested him, the way that the men and boys walked the woods and made noise until the frantic animals leaped from their hiding places and ran into the guns of the hunters. He’d used the concept several times since then, but never in an actual wilderness.

And this was a wilderness, he realized. The cooler in the trunk was almost empty and the gas was starting to dip below the halfway mark. He had to have the air-conditioning or he’d go absolutely insane. There were mosquitoes outside, and biting flies. He’d gotten bitten several times while he was setting up Ken’s body and starting the fire. The thief who’d stolen his wallet had stolen all his money. He had to have it back or he’d be forced to actually knock off a store or gas station, something he’d never lowered himself to do. He was a contract man, not a common robber, and he had respect for businessmen.

His setup was good. He’d wait while the fire swept down from the north and as the tourists and the Park Rangers ran, he’d wait. Then when his fire flushed Joe Tanner and his friends out of their ranch, Rene would be ready. Though he would regret shooting the detective first, he knew she would have to be the first to go. She would be armed, and capable, and thus too dangerous to keep alive. Once she was taken out the rest would be like panicked animals.

Joe Tanner would be last, Rene promised himself. Tanner was the cause of all of this. Rene was sweaty and dirty. He’d been in the same clothes for two days, and he hadn’t had a decent meal. His wallet was gone with his father’s picture inside. Ken was gone, too. Everything had been stripped from Rene. He felt odd, disconnected; as though he was in some sort of new dimension that wasn’t exactly the earth he’d always known.

A fire engine with “Sundance” printed along the side roared north, men in hastily donned fire uniforms hanging from the sides and back. They looked pale and wide-eyed, even at a distance. Rene checked his map and nodded in satisfaction. The Hulett fire department, if they had one, had discovered that the fire was too large to contain and had called for help. They’d find the fire impossible to stop.

The sheriff’s car had been full of gas and Rene had siphoned and then splashed it along a quarter mile of woods before he’d set the vehicle on fire. He’d put the hose he’d used to siphon the gas in Ken’s hand. The fire investigation would reveal Ken’s body and the arson equipment in Ken’s hand, if the fire didn’t turn the whole scene into ashes. Rene had set a warehouse on fire once. He knew the drill with gasoline and making sure there was a clear exit before lighting the match.

The fiercely burning sheriff’s car had made a curious popping noise as Rene had driven away, after making sure the fire would spread. Rene didn’t know anything about setting fires in the forest, really, but how different could a forest fire be?

Now the second Park Ranger truck roared up the road, this time turning into the Devils Tower highway. It thundered past Rene’s hiding place, a small turnout that held a parking spot behind part of the crumbling bluffs that dotted the landscape. Rene supposed it was a camping spot for people who didn’t want to pay the fee to enter the national monument. If a Ranger checked it while evacuating the tourists, another cop would die. Rene didn’t care. He had enough ammunition in his bag to take care of a dozen cops and Joe Tanner’s friends, too.

Rene checked his Glock. It was a nice weapon, small and deadly, and he itched to make use of it. He settled back into his seat and let the cold air from the vents blow across his face. It wouldn’t be long now.

 

 

Devils Tower, Wyoming

 

“Dad,” Eileen said. She stepped close to him. She took his hands in hers and looked into his eyes. “You know what to do. It’s hard, but it’s okay. We don’t have time for anything else.”

Paul looked at her and squeezed her hands. For a moment they were alone, the two of them, father and daughter. He was so capable, so intelligent, and he was frantically looking for a solution that would save them all. Eileen knew instantly that this was impossible. There were thirteen people and only five horses.

“They can bring back help?” he whispered.

“They can make a Park Ranger stay, with a truck,” Eileen said. Paul’s eyes instantly relaxed and his shoulders dropped.

“Of course,” he said. He turned away from her. The remains of breakfast lay scattered on the pine needles, where all of them had dropped their plates and forks. Eileen could see her mother eyeing the mess with a distracted air. Tracy never littered. Howie stood, relaxed and alert, while Jimmy worked his hands into fists again and again. Eileen wondered if Jorie realized that Nolan was standing next to her. Her face was shocked, but she seemed calm and her color was good. Mark Plutt and Doug, the Schwan’s man, stood next to Nolan, their faces mirrors of dismay.

“Rene set the fire,” Joe said flatly. “He figured he couldn’t find us, so he’ll just smoke us out.”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Paul said. “I’m going to send Howie, Jimmy, Mark and Nolan out on the horses. Doug, I’m going to send you ahead on Brumby.”

“Doug?” Eileen asked. “On Brumby?”

“Hush, Eileen,” Paul snapped. “Doug’s the best rider in the county. He can ride Brumby ahead to the Ranger Station. Have them keep a truck behind for us, when they evacuate. The rest of us will hurry as fast as we can to the Tower, then down to Devils Junction and the highway.”

“You’re asking us to abandon you?” Howie said incredulously.

“I’m asking you to go for help,” Paul said patiently. “We won’t get there in time to tell the Rangers that there are people who need help. You can. Don’t argue or we’ll all die.”

Eileen could smell smoke in the air, though the sky remained blue and blameless. The elk hadn’t been the only visitor, either. As Paul spoke, a brace of rabbits ran through the clearing, ears erect and bottoms thumping up and down. The forest was alive with tiny, unseen movement. The animals were clearing out.

“I’m not going. Send Jorie out,” Nolan said calmly.

“I can’t ride a horse,” Jorie snapped. “I don’t know how.”

“Then I’ll stay,” he said implacably. Jorie stared at him, hands curling into fists, then abruptly turned away and picked up her pack.

“Eileen,” Paul started, and Eileen held up her hand.

“No, Dad,” she said. “I have to stay with Joe. I’m the only one trained to take on Rene.”

“I’ll go,” Tracy said. She stepped towards Lucy and held out her hand. “I’m the only one besides Eileen who can ride with a child. Will you let me take him?”

Lucy stood, Hank on her hip, staring at Tracy. Her face filled slowly with horrified dismay. Eileen knew what Lucy finally understood. The ones left behind might not make it out. Tracy was giving Lucy a chance to save her son.

“Of course,” Lucy said, obviously forcing her face and voice to smoothness. “Hank, you get to take another horsy ride.”

“Saddle up,” Paul said, and there was a scramble for the horses. Within minutes the five horses were saddled. Doug saddled Brumby himself and vaulted to the back of the huge brown horse with an athletic grace that made Eileen blink in astonishment. Brumby tried to bite Doug in the leg and Doug kneed the horse in the head and yanked hard on the bit. Brumby reared once and then settled down, ears twitching.

Paul stood at Brumby’s head, holding the bridle. He was erect as a soldier, his face turned up to the younger man. Doug looked down at him, his face set, his mouth a thin, determined line.

“Run Brumby, Doug. Run him all the way out, if you have to.” Paul dropped the reins and gave Brumby a heavy blow to the hindquarters. Brumby launched like an arrow towards the trees. Doug crouched over his back, urging him forward, and they disappeared into the trees. For a moment there was the thudding of hooves and then there was silence.

Paul turned to Tracy and took her in his arms. Eileen looked away as Paul kissed Tracy with the passion he never showed in public, cupping her face in his hands with the care of a man holding a priceless treasure. When she looked back, Tracy was already wrapping a blanket across her chest, tying it in the back in an ungainly, sturdy knot. Lucy kissed Hank tenderly and handed him to Ted, who kissed him on the forehead and handed him up to Tracy, who’d mounted Starlight. Tracy, her face white and set, took the little boy and snuggled him into the blanket. He began to wail as he realized he wasn’t going to sit on the saddle, but Tracy’s odd sling kept him pressed against the length of her chest.

“We’ll get help,” she said, and kicked Starlight into motion. Howie and Jimmy followed, then Mark. They disappeared into the trees towards Devils Tower.

Eileen suddenly realized what her father had said to Doug. Doug was going to run Brumby to death to save them. She saw Ted and Lucy standing together, holding hands, looking shocked and lost. Lucy was struggling with tears, lips trembling.

“Let’s go, already,” Jorie snapped. She had her pack on. “The fire won’t even get here for hours yet, I’ll bet. Let’s go!”

Eileen picked up her own pack and felt the bundle within it. For a moment she considered abandoning her pack and then she decided against it. Jorie was right; they had hours before the fire got there. Probably. Maybe.

“In twos, everyone,” Paul said. “Don’t stray. Make sure you have a water bottle and don’t carry a pack. Eileen. Lose the pack.”

“I have to keep it, Dad,” she said.

“Drop it if you start falling behind. Let’s get moving. Zilla, let’s go.”

Already the sky was turning white, though Eileen knew the sky would be white miles from the fire. Joe was at her side as she left the clearing. The area was littered with plates and flatware and the saddle packs that had held all the gourmet food and equipment for last night’s supper and this morning’s breakfast. Earlier, Paul had buried and drowned the fire and neatly set the grill within the rock ring, which struck Eileen as almost funny. She spotted the coffee pot, an enameled metal pot that had seen her through her own childhood, and felt something she refused to name. She tightened her pack and followed Lucy and Ted through the trees.

 

Devils Tower, Wyoming

 

When they scrambled up the last ridge and saw the well-worn path in front of them, Howie whooped breathlessly. Pirate, nearly done in, shook his mane and managed a trot as they followed the trail towards the Visitors Center. Devils Tower, so close they were literally within its shadow, was wreathed in smoke.

Howie had been to the Visitors Center with Paul just two days ago. It seemed like another life. Two days ago the road and the parking lots were jammed with people and vehicles. Now the parking lot was eerily silent, empty except for a single ancient Subaru that squatted like an abandoned dog at the end of the lot.

“Doug. Brumby,” Tracy gasped. Hank had finally fallen silent in the wrapped blanket around her chest. He had wailed and screamed, calling for his parents, then fell quiet. Tracy, fighting a toddler and guiding the horses along the trail, was exhausted. Her hair was sweat-soaked and clung to her forehead and neck. Her eyes were dark holes in her face and her mouth was open in a gasping sob.

Howie looked to where she was pointing and whooped again. Brumby, lathered from withers to rump in white foam, but alive, was tied up at the Visitors Center, and there was a truck there. A big one, some kind of utility truck with a crew cab. It was painted the horrible pale green of the Forest Service, and it was the most beautiful thing Howie had ever seen.

Doug came out of the Visitors Center with a Park Ranger at his side. The Ranger was old, slender as a cane, with a head of white hair and an enormous mustache that made him look like Mark Twain. The ranger looked at them and waved as they trotted up.

“Paul Reed? Still back in the woods, Tracy?”

“Yes, Don,” Tracy wheezed. “Help. Truck.”

“Got all that,” Don the Park Ranger said with a tense smile. “Afraid I have another worry on my mind right now.”

“What’s that?” Howie asked sharply.

“Look for yourself,” Don said, and waved his hand at the Tower. Howie turned to look and saw nothing.

“Oh, no,” Mark said. “On the Tower, Howie. Not in front of it. On the Tower.”

There were four climbers on the Tower, bright specks of red, yellow, green and purple, like crayons spilled from a box. They were working their way down, rappelling down the enormous stone columns, but they were still a third of the way from the bottom.

“Oh, shit,” Howie said tiredly.

“That’s not all,” Doug said. “The Lakota here have refused to go, too.”

“Four Native Americans, one for each of the climbers. Some ceremony of theirs. They won’t leave until the climbers leave. So that’s eight people, plus me, plus your seven. Too many for my truck.”

“Then we’ll ride the horses to the Junction and have them send another truck,” Tracy said.

“You’ll have to ride to the Junction, anyway,” Don said. “I’m the only one left and I need to make sure we get these people out.”

“They can fit in your truck,” Doug said, mounting Brumby with quick, economical grace. Brumby looked as wicked as ever, despite the sweat and foam that drenched his sides. “They can squash into the back and in the cab. Just wait for them, please, Don.”

“I won’t leave Paul Reed,” Don said to Tracy. “I’ll wait until there’s no hope, Miz Reed. And if I know Paul, he’ll bring them out. And I do.”

“You’ll probably pass us on the road,” Doug said cheerfully. “Come on, you guys, the Junction is only a few miles away and it’s all downhill. They’ve got helicopters coming in, and Hot Shot firefighters from Montana. They’ll have this fire licked by nightfall.”

Howie looked back at the Tower as they walked the tired horses down the road. Tracy insisted they walk, giving the horses a chance to regain their wind. The stone column was layered in smoke, more of it now. The top of the Tower was in the clear sky and Howie remembered Tracy’s story. There was something else, too, that the sight of the Tower was telling him. Something that resonated with their own situation, about being hunted…

They were nearly a quarter of the way down the long, curving road when he remembered, suddenly, what was nudging at the back of his mind. He kicked Pirate into a gallop and shouted at Doug, who was leading the way on Brumby.

“Yeah?” Doug said, pulling up Brumby. “We can’t stop, Mr. Magnus, we have to go.”

“The guy,” Howie said, hating how out-of-breath he sounded. Well, he wouldn’t see eighteen again. “The guy who tried to kill you. Why did he set the fire?”

By this time the rest of the group had closed in, stopping their horses and listening. Starlight, Tracy’s horse, had enough energy to prance nervously. Horses hated fire and Starlight didn’t want to stop. Fair enough; Howie didn’t want to stop either.

“To kill us,” Mark said.

“To drive us out of the woods,” Howie said. “So he can kill us.”

“Oh, shit,” Doug said, at the same time as Jimmy.

“Get us off this road, Tracy,” Jimmy said. “Can you get us to the Junction off road?”

“I can,” Doug said. He looked furious. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. I can’t believe –”

“No time,” Tracy said. “Doug, lead us. Howie, can you fire an arrow from horseback?”

“Yes,” Howie said. He’d kept his bow and quiver and they hung, ready for use, at his side.

“Mark?”

“I don’t think so,” Mark said. “I’m not—”

“Then take this,” Tracy said, producing Paul’s .45 from her saddlebag. “I can’t hang onto Hank and a gun, too.”

Mark took the gun and put it awkwardly into his belt. Howie wondered if he’d have the courage to use it, if the time came. Doug urged a reluctant Brumby off the road and into the thick underbrush. Howie kicked Pirate in the ribs and they, too, left the comfortable road. A branch lashed across Howie’s face and he felt a sudden, unexpected rage for that man, Rene, and his pal. There would be dead and dying deer, elk and turkey in this forest before the end of the day. People, too, perhaps. All this just to find and kill a single man, to fulfill a contract that probably paid less than what Howie’s stocks provided him each quarter. Howie reached back and fingered his bow. If the time came, he wouldn’t hesitate, he promised himself. He’d feel worse about stepping on a cockroach than putting an arrow through that worthless creature’s chest. In fact, he’d positively enjoy it.