Текст книги "Nowhere to Run"

Автор книги: C. J. Box

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Joe thought: And when Shober heard about me, he tried to put me on the hunt for Diane, too, just for insurance.

“She stayed with you to rub her father’s nose in it?” Joe said.

Caleb shrugged as if to say, Why not?

And Camish said, “Why not?”

“Shober’s mother is worried about her. I don’t think she knows anything about what you’re accusing her father of.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Camish said, shrugging.

“So was it you who sent the postcard to Mrs. Shober?”

Camish sighed. “That was a dumb idea. But Diane insisted. Like she made us agree to call her Terri Wade. Half the time we forgot. But when a woman gets something in her head. ”

“Is she okay now?” Joe asked. “Diane Shober?”

Said Camish, as a slow smile built on his face, “If you want to-if you figure out how to get out of here alive, I mean-you can ask her yourself. I don’t mind. She won’t mind, I don’t think, as long as you don’t try to take her back with you. See, we got some caves up in the rimrocks. Indians used to live there, then outlaws. They’re sweet caves. Dave knows the way.”

Joe didn’t know what to say. He finally looked over at Nate. His friend mouthed, We have to talk. But because Joe knew what Nate wanted to talk about, he turned away.

Camish said, “We used to have a pretty good country. At least I think we did. Then something happened. It’s our fault ’cause we let it. We used to be a people who had a government,” he said, looking up, his eyes fierce again. “Now it’s the other way around.”

Joe didn’t respond.

“And we ain’t going back until things change. We want our property back and we want an apology. We want to see that senator go to prison. We want to see Brent Shober tarred and feathered. And most of all, we want to be left alone. Simple as that. And we ain’t going to argue about it, game warden. If you can promise us those things, we’ll put down our guns and come down with you. Can you promise them?”

Joe said, “I promise I’ll try.”

Camish snorted. “That’s the way it is with you people. Good intentions are supposed to be the same as good works.”

Joe had no reply.

Camish said, “Then it is what it is.”

31

Out of earshot of the brothers, Nate said, “This isn’t what I signed up for, Joe.”

Joe said, “I know it isn’t.”

“We have a couple of options.”

Joe said, “I’m not sure we do.”

Nate had stood and backed slowly away from where the brothers and Dave Farkus sat by the fire. As he did, Caleb never took his eyes off him, and conspicuously tightened his fingers around the handgrip of the automatic rifle on his lap. Likewise, Nate didn’t turn his back on Caleb and he held the.454, muzzle down, near his side. Joe knew how fast Nate was with the revolver, and he guessed Caleb knew it, too. Joe had stood and joined his friend. The eastern sky was rose-colored, and the trees within the dark forest began to define themselves. It was less than an hour before sunrise.

Nate said, “We could get on our horses and ride away. Let the locals and the state boys and the feds finish this. We’re sort of signing the death warrants on these guys, but they know that and we won’t have blood on our hands. Of course, there’s the possibility these boys will make a stand. And who knows, they couldwin. Or maybe they’ll just fade into the timber if we leave. They’ve done a pretty good job at surviving up here so far. Maybe they’ll head north along the Continental Divide.”

Joe’s insides were on fire. He clamped his shotgun to his side with his arm and thrust his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking.

Joe said, “I can’t ride away. As long as they’re up here, they’ll keep breaking laws. You know that. We rode by three dead bodies earlier tonight. Maybe you can say they deserved it, but that’s not for us to decide. More people will get hurt and die, and some of them will be innocent. Think of the traps these guys set. If we leave, they won’t stop.”

Nate said, “Nope, they won’t. But that doesn’t have to be our problem. This isn’t right, Joe. Let me put this as clearly as I can: We’re on the wrong side.”

Joe winced.

“Maybe we can make a deal with them,” Nate said. “If they agree to dismantle the traps and promise to lay low, we’ll ride away. I think they’d let us go under those conditions.”

“Maybe,” Joe said, “but I am what I am, Nate. I took an oath. I can’t just ride away.”

“That’s how you got tangled up with them in the first place,” Nate said. “They all but begged you to just leave them be. But you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t.”

Nate didn’t turn his head. He kept his eyes on Caleb and Camish. But to Joe, it felt like his friend was glaring at him with puzzled contempt.

Joe said, “Maybe you should go, Nate. I know how you feel and I understand. Believe me, I do. You don’t need to be any part of this. There’d be no hard feelings on my part if you rode away.”

Nate said, “They’ll kill you, Joe.”

“Maybe.”

“I’m sorry.”

Joe stepped forward toward the fire, narrowing the distance between them but not really feeling his boots walk across the grass. Caleb, Camish, and Farkus watched him.

Joe said, “Put down your weapons, get Diane Shober, and come with me. We can get to the trailhead before they get organized enough to come up after you. There will be dozens of law enforcement personnel-maybe hundreds. If we all get down there before they get assembled and get their blood up, I promise you I’ll do all I can to get you secured away so you’ve got a chance.”

Caleb and Camish looked at him without a change in their expressions. Farkus narrowed his eyes, again glancing between Joe and the brothers, obviously trying to read in advance what was going to happen, and which side he would choose to support.

Joe said, “I’ll tell the locals, the state, and the feds how you cooperated. I’ll ask Governor Rulon to get involved-we’re pretty close. Look, you’ve got a story to tell. There are a lot of folks out there who will support you.

“I know of a lawyer,” Joe continued, trying to keep his voice even. “His name is Marcus Hand. You may have heard of him. Big guy, long white hair, wears buckskins in the courtroom. He specializes in getting guilty people off. Believe me, I know. I have a feeling he’d find you guys sympathetic. Who knows-he might be able to get you what you want.”

He waited.

The brothers didn’t ask for a moment to discuss the option. Camish said, “The only way we’re going off this mountain is feetfirst. And I don’t think that’s likely to happen.”

Even without turning around and seeing for himself, Joe knew Nate was gone.

Then, deep in the trees to the east, he heard Nate’s horse whinny.

“Tell you what,” Camish said, standing almost casually. “Unlike your government, we believe in freedom and opportunity. We’ll give you the opportunity to ride away. Just don’t ever come back on our mountain.”

Joe stood silent.

“We’ll give you ten minutes to pack up and ride away,” Camish said. “We won’t interfere and we won’t put you down. And if you ride on out of here, we won’t follow you. I just hope we don’t ever see you up here again.”

He turned toward the fire. “Dave, you can go with him. No offense, but you’re kind of useless. And if the game warden is correct, there will be a battle coming. You might get caught in the crossfire.”

Farkus hopped to his feet, nodding. “Okay,” he said. “Thank you, Camish.”

Camish smirked and looked back to Joe. “You’re still here,” he said.

Joe felt himself nod once.

“You shouldn’t still be here.”

Farkus started to walk toward Joe but hesitated.

“Look,” Camish said. “My brother and I are going to walk away and give you some space. Maybe then you’ll think about what you’re doing and take old Dave here and be gone. But if for some damned reason you want to force the issue, we’ll meet you in that clearing over there,” he gestured toward a small meadow to the west. The morning sun was building behind the trees, ready to launch and flood the meadow with light.

“We’ll finish it there, I guess,” Camish said, shaking his head. He seemed almost sad, Joe thought.

As they backed away from the fire, Camish said, “I think on some level you know we’re right, game warden. But you sure are stubborn.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Joe said. “It’s your government, too. You can work to change it.”

“Too late for that,” Camish said. “This is Rampart Mountain. This is where we turn you people back or we quit trying.”

Joe said, “This is the wrong fight at the wrong time.”

“Got to start somewhere,” Camish said, turning away.

And they were gone.

Farkus looked from Joe, toward where the brothers had melded into the trees, and back. He said, “Let’s get out of here, Joe.”

Joe said, “Go ahead.”

The temperature dropped fifteen degrees as the cold morning air started to move through the timber in anticipation of the sun. Joe felt a long shiver start in his boots and roll through his body until his teeth chattered.

He stood on the side of his gelding, keeping the horse between himself and the meadow. The brothers couldn’t be seen. Neither could Farkus, who’d dumped the panniers from the packhorse, mounted the animal bareback, and headed east in a hurry. He hadn’t looked back.

Joe found the satellite phone, powered it up, and punched in the numbers. He woke her up, and sleep clogged her voice for a moment.

Joe said, “We found them.”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Not yet.”

“What does that mean, Joe?”

“I’m going to try to bring them in,” he said. “They don’t want to come.”

“Oh, no. Oh, my. Please be careful.”

“I will.”

“Did you find Diane?”

“No, but I know where she is. She’s okay, they say.”

“Thank God. Her mother will be so happy.”

“Yup. I’m not so sure about her dad, though.” Thinking: How do we know the Michigan boys were going to bring her down? How do we know they weren’t going to silence her, too?

“Joe, are you okay? There’s something in your voice. Are you all right?”

“Sure,” he said.

“Is there anything I can do? Anyone I can call?”

“No.”

Joe looked across the meadow as two yellow spear bars of sun shot through a break in the trees. Instantly, the clearing lightened up. In the shadows of the pine tree wall on the far side of the clearing, he could see Camish and Caleb. They were about fifty yards apart, still in the shadows of the trees but about to enter the meadow. Caleb held his rifle across his chest. Camish worked the pump on Joe’s old shotgun.

“I’ve got to go,” Joe said.

“Call me when you can,” Marybeth said.

“I want you to know how much I love you,” he said. “I want you to know I think I’m doing the right thing for you and the girls.”

She was silent for a moment. Then he heard a sob.

“I’ll call,” he said, and punched off. It felt like a lie.

He couldn’t feel his feet or his legs, and his heartbeat whumped in his ears as he walked out into the clearing with his shotgun. Camish and Caleb emerged from the trees. Joe guessed they were seventy-five yards away. Out of range for his shotgun or.40 Glock. He wondered when Caleb would simply raise the rifle and start firing.

Joe thought: They look silly, the Grim Brothers, dressed in the same clothes, identical except for the bandage on Caleb’s jaw. They’re such losers. From another place and another era, and their ideas of the way things ought to be are old and out of date. They know, he thought, if they come down from this mountain they’ll be eaten alive. The poor bastards.

He thought: This is their mountain. It’s where they feel safe. It’s the only place they feel free.

He thought: He might give up his life for an argument he didn’t think he agreed with.

Camish said something, but Joe didn’t catch it due to the roaring in his head.

“What’s that?” Joe called out.

“I said it’s still not too late to leave,” Camish said. “I admire your courage, but I question your judgment.”

Joe thought, Me too.

The brothers were within fifty yards.

Joe thought, Camish first. Shoot Camish first. He was the leader, the spokesman. Taking out Camish might stun Caleb for a split second-in time for Joe to jack in another shell and fire.

Shoot, then run to the side, he thought. Make himself a moving target. Duck and roll. Come up firing. Run right at Caleb, confuse him. Caleb wouldn’t expect Joe to come right at him.

Forty yards.

When Joe was growing up, he’d read everything he could find about Old West outlaws and gunfights. He’d found himself disappointed. In real life, showdowns like the ones portrayed in movies and myths were almost nonexistent. Men rarely faced off against each other on a dusty cow town street at high noon, with the fastest gun winning. Much more likely was an ambush, with one man firing a rifle or a shotgun at his enemy before the victim could draw his weapon, or a gunman sneaking up on someone and putting a bullet in the back of his head from a foot away. Men didn’t face off if they could help it.

He remembered what Nate had told him: It’s about who can look up without any mist in their eyes or doubts in their heart, aim, and pull the trigger without thinking twice. It’s about killing. It’s always worked that way.

Thirty yards.

Not optimum for his shotgun, but close enough.

Without warning, he dropped to one knee, raised his weapon, and shot at Camish.

Camish was hit with a spray of double-ought pellets, but he didn’t fall. Joe caught a glimpse of Camish’s puzzled face, dotted with fresh new holes. He was hurt but the wounds weren’t lethal. He seemed as surprised at what Joe had done as Joe did.

From the trees to Joe’s left, there was a deep-throated boom and Caleb’s throat exploded. A second shot blew his hat off and it dropped heavily to the grass because it was weighted by the top of Caleb’s skull. Caleb spun on his heel and fell, dead before he hit the ground. The AR-15 caught the sun as it flew through the air.

Camish opened his mouth to call something out but a third.454 round punctured the body armor over his heart like a missile through tissue paper and dropped him like a bag of rocks.

Joe rose unsteadily, his ears ringing from the gunshots. He was stunned by what had just happened and amazed by the fact that he wasn’t hurt, that the brothers hadn’t fired back.

From the trees, Nate walked out into the clearing and the morning sun lit him up. He ejected three smoking spent cartridges from the cylinder and replaced them with fresh rounds. He said, “That may have been the worst thing we’ve ever done, Joe.”

Joe dropped his shotgun, turned away, bent over with his hands on his knees, and threw up in the dew-sparkled grass.

The sharp smell of gunpowder held in place a few feet above the meadow, the result of a morning low pressure. Gradually, it dissipated. The odor of spilled blood, however, got stronger as it flowed from the bodies of Caleb and Camish until the soil around them was muddy with it.

Nate found a downed log at the edge of the timber and sat down on it, his.454 held loosely in his fist, his head down as if studying the grass between his boots. Joe walked aimlessly toward the timber from where the brothers had emerged. He doubted the woman had been hiding there, but he wanted to check. His shotgun was still in the grass.

He stopped near to where Caleb had come out, noting a dull, unnatural glint on the edge of a shadow pool in the trees. Stepping closer, he took a deep breath. The glint came from a substantial pile of loose rifle cartridges in the pine needles, and something dark and square. He was puzzled.

Joe dropped and counted thirty.223 cartridges on the ground. A lot, he thought. More than Caleb would have dropped casually. In fact, Joe thought with a growing sense of dark unease, it was the entire quantity of a combat AR-15 magazine.

Short of breath, Joe lurched from tree to tree clutching a rifle bullet and the journal he recognized from the first time he’d encountered Caleb in the lake. It didn’t take long to find the place a few yards away where Camish had unloaded his shotgun shells. Four of them, bright with their red plastic sleeves and high brass, lay in a single pile as if dropped from beneath the weapon like metal scat.

He opened the journal and thumbed through it as his eyes swam. The first three-quarters of the book were devoted to daily journal entries. The last quarter appeared to be an antigovernment screed. Joe thought, Their manifesto. Hundreds of words that could be summed up as Don’t Tread on Me.

The last of Caleb’s entries was a spidery scrawl that read, “Please take good care of Diane. It ain’t her fault. She done nothing wrong. She just wanted to be free of you people.”

Nate had entered the trees with his gun drawn. Joe watched Nate as his eyes moved from the.223 bullets to the shotgun shells. His friend’s upper lip curled into a frightening grimace.

Joe said, “No wonder they didn’t shoot. They unloaded before they walked out there.”

“Oh, man,” Nate whispered. “It was bad before. It just got worse.”

Joe called Marybeth. She picked it up on the first ring. He said, “I’m not hurt. Nate’s not hurt. We’re done here.”

She said, “Joe, what’s wrong?”

He took in a long breath of cool mountain air that tasted like pine, and he looked out on the meadow as the sun lit up the grass so green it hurt his eyes. “I don’t even know where to start.”

32

At midmorning, Joe could smell food cooking from above in the rimrocks. The aroma wafted down through the sparse lodgepole copse. He clucked at his gelding and led the animal up toward the source of the aroma and thought about how long it had been since he’d eaten. Not that it mattered, since there was nothing left in his stomach at all.

They’d lifted the bodies of Caleb and Camish facedown over the saddles of their riding horses and lashed them to the saddles as if they were packing out game animals. Joe and Nate wordlessly tied lifeless hands and feet together under the bellies of their mounts to keep the bodies from sliding off. Before they guided the horses and the bodies out of the meadow up toward the rimrocks, Joe had called dispatch on his satellite phone. The dispatcher offered to route him through to Sheriff Baird or Special Agent Chuck Coon of the FBI, who were both in place and in charge at the command center that had been established at the trailhead.

Joe said, “No need. I don’t want to talk to either of them right now. Just pass on the word that the Grim Brothers-or the Clines, or whatever the hell their real names are-are dead. There is no more threat. Tell them they can stand down. We’ll be bringing the bodies out by nightfall.”

The dispatcher said, “My God. They’re going to want to talk directly with you.”

Said Joe, “I’m not in the mood,” and powered down the phone so they couldn’t call him back.

When they cleared the trees, Joe spotted Diane Shober. She was a hundred yards above them, peering down out of a vertical crack in the rimrock wall. When she saw them-and what they had strapped to their horses-her hand went to her mouth and he heard her cry out. Then she was gone back into the cave.

Joe thought that unless he’d been told specifically by Farkus and Camish where the cave was located, he never would have found it. He thought it unlikely that the search-and-rescue team would have found it, either. And certainly not the strike team building at the trailhead who, for the most part, weren’t familiar with the terrain to begin with. There was a shelf of rock on the side of the mountain, and it was striated with sharp-edged columns over ten feet high, stretching for several miles in each direction. It was as if the mountain had been shoved down by a giant hand with tremendous pressure until the top fifth of it broke and slipped to the side, exposing the wound. The striation was deceptive in its uniform geology, and its columns made stripes of dark shadows on the granite. The opening Diane looked out of could have been one of the vertical-striped shadows.

“See her?” Joe said over his shoulder to Nate.

“Yes.”

She slowly shook her head from side to side. The sun gleamed off the tears streaming down her face.

Joe called, “We’re here to take you home.”

The woman drew back a few feet into the shadow of the opening.

After a few moments, she said, “I amhome.”

He said, “Diane, the reason we’re here is because your mom asked me to come. She misses you.”

Joe wanted to persuade, to cajole, and not to threaten in any way. He couldn’t bear the thought of forcing another result like what had happened with the brothers.

“We didn’t want to hurt them,” he said. “We did everything we could to talk them into coming down with us. Caleb and Camish forced the issue. In a way, they committed suicide.”

Shober nodded. It wasn’t news to her. Obviously, Joe thought, the brothers had indicated to her how things were likely to end if the first wave-Joe and Nate-wasn’t turned back by the traps.

Behind Joe, the packhorse nickered. Up on top of the wall but out of sight, a horse called back, then another. The brothers had kept the horses ridden by the Michigan men and had picketed them up in the trees.

“If it’s okay with you,” Joe said, “we’ll come on up there and get those horses and saddle them up for you. You can ride down with us.”

Diane Shober stepped out of the cave opening. Her dark hair was tied into a ponytail. Her clothing was more formfitting than it had been before, and she looked younger than she had as Terri Wade, he thought.

She said, “What if I don’t come with you?”

Said Joe, “Let’s not find out. The truth is, this mountain will be crawling with law enforcement within the hour, I’d guess. We know where you are, and they’ll find you. They might not be as sympathetic as us.”

“Sympathetic?” Diane said, laughing bitterly. “Like you were sympathetic with Camish and Caleb there?”

Joe’s voice held when he said, “They gave us no choice. You’ll have to believe me when I tell you that. They must have decided they’d rather die up here than take their chances in court.”

Diane nodded. “Yes,” she said, “that’s what they told me they might have to do.”

“Then come with us,” Nate said. “We’ll do our best to protect you.”

Again, Diane laughed. It was a high, plaintive laugh. “You think you can protect me, do you? From the government? From the press? From my father and the kind of people he works with?”

Joe said nothing.

Diane said, “Have things changed, then? Can we be free people again? Is that what you’re saying?”

Nate said, “I know people who could help you. You aren’t the only one who’s gone underground.”

Diane studied Nate for a long time, as if trying to make up her mind about something. Finally, she withdrew back into the cave. Joe waited without moving for five minutes, then turned to look at Nate. Nate looked back at him as if he were thinking the same thing.

“Damn,” Joe said, and quickly tied his horse to a stump. Nate did the same. They ran up the slope, breathing hard.

Joe threw himself through the opening. The sudden darkness made him blink. It took a moment for his eyes to begin to adjust. He and Nate stood in the entrance of a surprisingly large cavern. There were beds, a stove, handmade tables and chairs, fabric and hides on the interior walls. It smelled damp, but the food odors made it surprisingly comfortable. It reminded Joe of where Nate hid out, and he wondered how many others there were in the country in hiding. How many people had gone underground, as Nate said?

On the table was a knife.

Diane Shober looked up from where she was packing items into a large duffel bag. “What, did you think-I wasn’t coming out?”

Joe said, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t live with the prospect of more blood on my hands.”

As they rode down the mountain, Joe said to Diane, “I’m glad you’re coming down. I’ll be eternally grateful you saved my life, but this isn’t any way to live.”

Her mouth was tight, and she stared straight ahead. When she talked, her lips hardly moved. “It’s crude and lonely, I agree. Growing up, this is the last thing I would have wanted. But when I was running, I went a lot to Europe. I got to experience socialism firsthand. At first, it’s seductive. Free health care, free college, all that. But nothing is free. And anything that’s free has no value. Zero means zero. I saw it close-up. So yes, you’re right. This is crude and dirty. But it’s my choice. There’s no one here to tell me what to do or how to think. The trade-off is worth it.”

Joe had no response.

“Will my mom be down there?” Diane asked.

“I’m not sure.”

She hesitated, asked, “My dad?”

“It’s possible,” Joe said. “But we’re in a pretty remote location. It would be hard for them to get here so fast.”

“If he tries to talk to me, I might have to kill him,” she said, tears welling in her eyes.

Joe listened as Diane Shober talked to Nate.

“I’m an Objectivist,” she said. “You know, Ayn Rand. It’s the only good thing I got from Justin.” She laughed. “I’m a freak, I know. Most of my friends drank the Kool-Aid. But you know how you used to see those RVs on the road with bumper stickers that read, WE’RE SPENDING OUR CHILDREN’S INHERITANCE?” That always used to piss me off, just because of the attitude. I mean, ha-fucking-ha.”

Joe watched her lean toward Nate on her horse and reach out and touch his arm. “Now every car in America should have that bumper sticker,” she said. “Thieves like my father are stealing from me and my children, if I ever have any. He’s politically connected, and the money flows to him downhill.

“You know,” she said, “we’re the first American generation to expect less than our parents. I’m talking smaller houses, smaller cars, smaller families. It makes my blood boil. I want no part of it.”

Nate nodded, said, “Did you know the brothers were up here before you went on your run?”

She took a minute, then said, “Yeah. We’d been in touch. I felt really awful for all the people who donated their time to come looking for me. I really did. But yes, I was in communication with the brothers. After all, we had a common enemy.”

“Your father?” Nate said.

“Yeah, him too,” she said.

As they rode down the switchback trail toward the trailhead, Joe got glimpses of what was below. As he’d predicted, it was a small city. Dozens of vehicles, tents, trailers, a makeshift corral, curls of smoke from lunchtime cooking fires. Satellite trucks from cable television news outlets. And the ashes of his father, still in his pickup. He had no more idea what to do with the old man in death than he had in life.

Nate walked up abreast and handed the reins of his gelding to Joe. “Time for me to go,” he said.

Joe nodded.

“I’m taking her with me,” Nate said, gesturing toward Diane Shober. “I know of people who are with us. They’ll put her up. They’ll treat her well.”

Joe opened his mouth to object, but Nate reached down and touched the butt of his.454 with the tip of his fingers. He didn’t grasp, draw, or cock the weapon. But the fact that he did it told Joe things had changed between them.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Nate said. “You’re thinking there’s no way I can take the victim with me before she’s interviewed. That it wouldn’t be procedure. And you’re right, it wouldn’t. But Joe, I shoved everything I believed in to the side to help you out up there. Now it’s your turn to help me.”

Joe studied his saddle horn. He said, “You promise me she’ll be okay? I have these visions of the underground that aren’t so good.”

Nate smiled. “The underground isn’t underground at all. It’s not about people in caves, really. They’re all around us. Everywhere you look, Joe. Real people, good people, are the underground. Believe me, Diane will be fine.”

“I understand.”

Nate reached out and touched Joe on the back of his hand. Then he gave Joe the reins to Caleb’s horse, so Joe now had both brothers behind him.

Nate said, “You know where to find me.”

Joe nodded but didn’t say anything.

The last glance he got of Diane as she followed Nate into the timber was when she turned in her saddle and waved. There was something sad in the gesture. Thanking him for letting them go. He waved back.

Joe tied the ropes for Caleb’s horse and Camish’s horse together into a loose knot and wrapped them around his saddle horn with a tight dally and a pointless flourish. He smiled to himself in a bitter way and clucked his tongue. All the animals responded, and started stepping down the mountain trail. No doubt, Joe thought, they sensed some kind of conclusion when they reached the trailhead. If only he felt the same, he thought.

Dave Farkus had been astonished by the number of cars, pickups, SUVs, and equipment trucks that overflowed the campground below at the trailhead. He’d never seen so many vehicles-or so many people-in one place up in the mountains before. And when they’d seen him, as he broke over the timbered ridgeline and rode his horse for ten minutes through a treeless meadow, he saw them scramble like fighter pilots getting the nod to mount up to go out there and bomb something.

The high whine of all-terrain vehicles split open the morning quiet. He watched with interest as two, three, four ATVs shot across the stream below and started up the mountain to meet up with him. There were multiple people on each vehicle, as well as electronic equipment.

Not just electronic equipment: cameras.

He pulled the reins on his horse and jumped off. He wished he could see his face in a mirror, but he couldn’t. But he did his best. He spat on his hands and scrubbed his face, then dried and cleaned himself with his shirttails. Judging by the gray smudges on the fabric he tucked back into his jeans, it was a good idea. He wanted to look rugged, but not dirty.

The ATVs were getting close. He found an extra horse bit in his saddlebag and shined it under his arm. Farkus leaned into the bend of the metal and the reflection, and he patted down his hair and made himself look weary and sympathetic.

And before the ATVs cleared the timber, he remounted, clicked his tongue, and got the animal moving again. The first ATV stopped just outside the trees, and a disheveled man jumped out and set up a tripod and put a camera on top of it under the arm-waving direction of a blonde who-no kidding-was the best-looking woman Farkus had ever seen in real life. She was tall, slim, coiffed, with large breasts and wore cool boots that she’d tucked her tight jeans into.