Part 29 (1/2)
”Pretty much. He repeated himself, though. 'Just leave us the h.e.l.l alone 'Just leave us the h.e.l.l alone.' Then he stepped back and said, 'This is to show you how serious we are,' and shot me in the b.u.t.t with that arrow. I could tell he took it easy on me, though. He barely shot that at me with much force. I mean, he could have done all kind of damage. Then he stepped back and said, 'This is to show you how serious we are,' and shot me in the b.u.t.t with that arrow. I could tell he took it easy on me, though. He barely shot that at me with much force. I mean, he could have done all kind of damage.
”I don't know which one it was who shot me,” Baird said. ”It's not like they introduced themselves. And you know they look and dress exactly alike. The only difference between them was one of them had a bandage taped on his face, on his chin.”
”That would be Caleb,” Joe said. ”Meaning Camish was the one who talked to you and shot you with the arrow.”
Baird said, ”Well, Caleb didn't talk. I got the impression maybe he couldn't anymore.”
”Did he look wounded any other way?” Joe asked. ”Did he appear to move stiffly or hang back, anything like that?”
”Not that I noticed,” the sheriff said.
Joe shook his head. How could he shoot the man square in the chest and cause no harm?
Baird turned his head around toward Joe. ”You know, I gotta tell you, I was scared at first. But when he said, 'Just leave us the h.e.l.l alone,' 'Just leave us the h.e.l.l alone,' I felt sorry for them in a weird way. Even though they did this to me. Ain't that strange? Maybe it's because I think that way myself a lot these days.” I felt sorry for them in a weird way. Even though they did this to me. Ain't that strange? Maybe it's because I think that way myself a lot these days.”
Nate was close enough to hear Baird's question, but he didn't respond. To Joe, he said, ”I saddled the horses. They've got an hour on us at best and they aren't on horseback. This may be the closest we'll ever get to them.”
Joe nodded and felt his scalp twitch again from fear. He tried to hide his face from Nate.
”We'd best get going,” Nate said.
”I heard you,” Joe said. He told Baird to pull up his pants.
AS THEY RODE UP out of the camp where the vehicles still burned, they could hear the distant thumping of a helicopter to the east. The chopper was coming to get Baird and whisk him away to Rawlins, Laramie, or Cheyenne. Various state troopers and DCI agents were on their way as well, but hours behind them.
Baird's handheld had been propped against the log he was resting on and the volume was up. As Joe saddled the packhorse and packed gear into the panniers, he heard the chatter pick up as word spread of the ambush of Baird. Sheriff's departments from four Wyoming counties and two Colorado counties were mobilizing. DCI, FBI, and ATF were being contacted. There was even speculation about contacting the governor's office to request the National Guard.
Joe said to Nate, ”By this time tomorrow, this camp will be a small city.”
Nate said, ”I'm not a city-type guy.”
THEY RODE THEIR HORSES UP into the mountains. Joe led, followed by Nate and the packhorse.
The feeling of dread seemed to increase in direct proportion to the alt.i.tude, Joe thought. The sharp smell of pine and sweating horses, the gritty taste of dust from the trail, the beating of his heart as the air got thinner-it was as if he'd never been away. For the third time in an hour, Joe reached out and touched the b.u.t.t plate of his shotgun with the tips of his fingers, as if a.s.suring himself it was there.
Apparently, Nate saw him do it, said, ”Remember what I said.”
Joe said, ”Yup.”
”So we're agreed that the best way to do this is to drive hard on our own, right?” Nate said. ”We're going to try to catch up with those boys while they're within striking distance? And we aren't going to give a good G.o.dd.a.m.n about all of the drummers on their way here right now?”
”Yup.”
Nate said, ”Okay, then.”
Joe said, ”I feel like we owe it to those brothers to find them before they're cornered by the cavalry that'll be coming.”
”Even though the result may be the same,” Nate said.
28
THEY FOLLOWED THE TRACKS OF THE HORSES THAT HAD BEEN there before them into the mountains. Joe determined that the men from Michigan had six horses. What he couldn't tell was if that meant there were six men total or if at least a couple of the animals were packhorses. The horses they were following had been recently shod, based on the sharp edges of the imprints in the dust and mud.
But who were they, these men? And how did Dave Farkus get hooked up with them? Joe's best guess was Farkus stumbled on the men and was taken along-or disposed of along the way. The purpose of the riders was unclear as well, although Joe was pummeled with the many connections to Michigan and the Upper Peninsula that kept cropping up. Were these riders after the brothers? Or allies with them?
Joe and Nate quickly fell into a procedure where if they wanted or needed to talk, they would sidle next to each other on horseback so they could lean into each other and keep their voices down. Joe sidestepped his horse off the trail and let Nate catch up and rein to stop.
Joe said, ”What do you think happened to the boys from Michigan?”
Nate narrowed his eyes while looking ahead of them up the mountain. ”All I know is that they haven't come back down the trail to their vehicles. That says they're still up here. Or that they aren't ever coming down.”
”I'd opt for the latter,” Joe said, leaning on the pommel and looking ahead.
”I'm trying to figure out why the brothers went after their vehicles,” Nate said. ”It seems kind of pointless to expose themselves that way.”
Joe nodded. ”Unless the purpose was more general.”
Nate caught Joe's meaning. He said, ”Like a warning to everybody out there that if you try to go after the brothers, they'll come around behind you and destroy your property. They're saying, Stay the h.e.l.l out of these mountains Stay the h.e.l.l out of these mountains.”
”Just like the message they gave Sheriff Baird,” Joe said.
Nate started to say something but didn't. He swallowed and made a face as if he'd tasted something bitter.
AS HE RODE, Joe continually scanned the trail up ahead of him and shot hard looks into the trees lining both sides. His shotgun was within quick reach. If the brothers didn't know they were being pursued, it was possible he and Nate could simply ride up on them. He wanted to be ready.
The afternoon sun lengthened the shadows across the trail and enhanced the fall colors of the aspen into almost blinding acrylic hues. It would be effortless for the brothers to simply meld into the throbbing colors of the trees and for Joe not to see them, he thought.
A doe mule deer and her fawn stayed ahead of them on the trail and Joe kept seeing her at each turn. She'd graze with the fawn until the horses came into sight, then startle with a white flap of her tail and bound ahead again and again. Joe wished she'd move off the trail for good, because each time she saw him and jumped, his heart did, too.
AN HOUR LATER, as dusk m.u.f.fled the eastside slopes and the acrylic colors muted into pastels, Joe again spooked the doe and fawn. But rather than running ahead along the trail where it narrowed and squeezed through the trunks of two ma.s.sive spruce trees, the deer cut into the timber to the right. Joe was pleased the deer had finally got out of the way, but then he saw them reappear yet again on the trail farther up the mountain slope like before.