The patrol car pulled in beside the truck and surprised both women.
Katherine Belle turned her head away and as soon as the gate opened, she drove through and stopped.
The deputy walked to the truck and tapped on the window. “Sorry to bother you, Miss,” he shouted, “but I need to talk with you.”
“You’ll have to come back, Officer,” Katherine Belle said, “when my husband’s here.” She glared at him like he was an intruder trying to grab her. Joseph Vincent only heard every other word, but from his vantage point he could read her lips.
“Ma’am, I need to interview a Mr. Joseph Loudermilk. I just have a few questions.”
She smiled and switched to her sweeter voice. “I’m afraid he’s gone away for a spell.”
“I’m sorry, Miss…?”
“Mrs. Loudermilk. I am Katherine Belle Loudermilk.”
“Ma’am, I have good reason to believe your husband is at home.”
“You were misinformed, sir.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll get in my car and follow you to the house.”
“I’d be obliged if you returned later. Your timing is most inconvenient.”
“Sorry, ma’am. Either I talk to Mr. Loudermilk now, or I’ll have to bring him in.”
“Suit yourself. My sister will lock the gate.”
“I would prefer if she wouldn’t lock it while I’m here, ma’am.”
Joseph Vincent picked up the duffel bag and ran for the barn. Katherine Belle was the reincarnation of Judas Iscariot. She’d pay like none of the others ever paid before. He rushed down the path of Divine Revelation behind the barn until he lost sight of the house. He’d stay away for a while, because it would all blow over in time.
He brought along plenty of snack food and could snare rabbits and find berries and plants to eat. An ample supply of water seeped into the Divine Chamber, the ideal spot to commune with the Almighty. Jesus prayed in the desert for forty days and forty nights. He could do that, too. Then he’d go find the harlot, Charlene. Or God would return her to him. Either way, the Lord would administer the blood atonement.
Panting, he climbed to the top of the hill and stopped at a clump of bushes. He paused for a moment to look back down the path and then ducked into a dense grove of quaking aspen. He used one arm to push away the limbs that kept snapping back into his face. The cool damp air from the gaping hole in the earth hit him like a winter breeze and he smiled. The cave was his lair, the Chamber of Divine Revelation. The opening was large enough that he only had to lean down to enter. Inside, he stood with three feet of clearance.
A strange feeling suddenly overcame him, a sense that he wasn’t alone. Something was there. Deep within the darkness, that something moved toward him.
Then a voice straight from Hell echoed from the Chamber walls.
“Hello, Poppy.”
FORTY-NINE
The roar of the waterfall grew louder as they hiked. The first to catch sight of it, Dieter shouted. “Will you look at that!”
“Hancock Falls,” Josh replied. “Named after one of the early Yellowstone explorers. Must be an eighty-foot drop.”
The imposing falls plummeted down onto massive boulders spread about in the narrow fast-flowing river before them, not more than thirty yards wide. Dead trees that had drifted over the brim lay scattered in a churning pool. What the falls lacked in width it made up for in height and sheer volume of flow.
Josh spotted more tracks and bent down to examine them, then pointed toward the river. “They lead to that flat rock on the water’s edge. Take a look at how those larger rocks line up. He’s crossed to the other side.”
“No way we can wade that,” Dieter replied.
“Let’s hike up above the falls and look for easier places to cross.”
“Do you think he’ll still be following the river?”
“You can put money on it. Who knows what drove him to cross at this point. Less he senses a path to get around the falls. On upstream he could just as well come back to this side.”
Dieter gazed above the waterfall where a cloud of steam rose high into the air behind distant trees. When Josh saw where Dieter was staring he said, “You’ve got to watch out for the scattered hot springs in these parts. We’re not that far from the geysers and thermal springs around Mammoth.”
Beneath skies of a dingy charcoal gray, the switchback to the top of the falls looked steep and challenging. A cold steady wind arose from the west and brought in a light rain. Josh held Rocko at a stop and grabbed the rope hooked around the saddle. He tied one end to a ring on the strap around Rocko’s breast and stuck his arm through the remaining coil. “I’ll lead Rocko up the path if you can stay at his rear. You might have to push him at times.”
Dieter nodded and took a position behind Rocko as they began the trek along the switchback. Progress was slow. Josh’s heavy breathing could be heard above the rumble of the falls while he pulled on the rope and grunted with Dieter shoving on Rocko’s rear. When finally reaching the top of the falls, they followed the river upstream several hundred yards to a clearing.
“That’s a patrol cabin up ahead,” Josh said. “It’s used often by park rangers.” The tiny log cabin was in the open field between the woods and the river. Josh rubbed his knee and mumbled about the need for a break.
While Dieter collected water from the stream, Josh rummaged through Rocko’s panniers, careful not to bump his head against the antenna on the saddle horn. He dug out a small camp stove and dented steel coffee pot followed by two ham sandwiches and a fresh egg from a cool pack.
Dieter sat cross-legged near the bank and watched his partner perform. The flat top of a boulder served to hold the stove. After bringing the water to a boil, Josh tossed into the pot a handful of ground coffee with a pinch of salt and waited. When the brew simmered, he cracked the egg on a rock, tossed away the yolk and white, and dropped the crushed shell into the pot to filter the grounds. It wasn’t long before he poured rich black coffee into two tin cups. While Dieter sipped the hot brew, he knew that he had to stop fretting. Michael would be safe with Leonard Farmington and Paul Struthers. The Scouts and the renegade wolf were miles apart and chances of any encounter were one in a million. He patted the inside of his jacket and took comfort in the feel of hard steel. Given the chance, he’d accomplish his mission quickly, humanely. Fortunately, in the wilderness a carcass wasn’t going to last long before it would be devoured by foragers. He owed the undertaking to his clients and
kids… and to Rusty.
Ambling over to Rocko, he stopped and stroked his wet fur. After untying the antenna from the saddle and the meter linked to it, he turned to Josh, who was relaxing with his back against a boulder. “I’m going to do some exploring,” Dieter said.
He held the antenna above his shoulder, grasped tightly the meter’s handle with his other hand and began walking along the trail.
The troop had paused next to the Gallatin River. Some of the Scouts lay in the grass while others snooped along the bank. Most sat in small groups, eating snacks and drinking cold sodas. The ones taking turns at the spotting scope searched mountain slopes to be first to catch a glimpse of a bighorn sheep or even better, a Grizzly.
Michael jerked up when a boy standing behind the scope shouted that he’d found something. Others ran to crowd around it, shoving to be the next to look. Scoutmaster Farmington rushed toward the group and called out, “What you got, Rowen?”
“Looks like a small bear. A black bear!”
Farmington struggled with the scope. Someone pointed to a dark spot moving across the hillside, but Michael couldn’t see it. Mr. Struthers held his binoculars to his face. “I’m not so sure. It’s moving much too fast for a bear.”