Claws (9 page)

Sixteen

Dell’s bank office was spacious and festooned with trophies. Trophy heads were not unusual in the west, although some people preferred antlers only to the glassy-eyed stare of a deer or elk head. But no other room in Idaho, Dell informed Katy, also had a grizzly bear, moose, gray wolf – legally shot, he insisted, mountain lion, bighorn sheep, a number of birds in flight, and the
coup de grace
of a Cape buffalo, a kudu, and an African lion.

“I still want to complete the big five,” Dell added. He was shy an elephant and a leopard kill. “Maybe I’ll return to Africa and go on safari with you, Katy.”

Katy answered with a tight smile. Jackson and Katy were seated opposite Dell’s desk in a pair of leather chairs with brass studs, like any other bank customer.

“Check this out,” Dell said, as he went to a closet and removed a large caliber rifle. “A Weatherby Mark Five elephant and hippo gun.” He pointed the gun at the head of the Cape buffalo. “One of my customers wanted to see it so
I brought it from home. You ever hunt with one of these?” he asked Katy as he handed her the gun to admire.

“I never use four-sixty-magnums or five hundreds,” she said. Jackson was lost and looked it, so Katy explained, “This gun is bored to shoot the most powerful sporting cartridge you can buy without a special permit.”

“These babies right here,” Dell said, producing a rack of cartridges. They were over three inches long and fat. “Just one of them can bring down a grown elephant.”

“Any big game rifle can if you’re good,” Katy said.

“Now that sounds like a challenge to me,” Dell said with a laugh. “Wouldn’t you say so, Jackson?”

Katy sniffed the barrel. “Well-cleaned or unused?”

“Not many elephants around here.” Dell took the gun from her and put it away. “Well, since you’re not here to admire my trophies, what can I do for you folks?”

“You can help me save Kali and Shaka,” Katy said.

“Who?”

“The two ligers.” She told him what she had discovered at Safari Land and the importance of the ligers surviving. She finished by saying, “These two ligers are like the Adam and Eve of a new sub-species of big cats.”

“Adam and Eve were created and man was given dominion over the animals,” Dell said, “including life and death.”

“Dominion also means protecting what’s special,” Katy said. “We can do that if I capture them. I’ve done it before, brought down large animals with a tranquilizer gun. I just need a chance to find them.”

“Then find them. Nobody’s stopping you.”

Katy glanced at Jackson, but he just tipped his head to tell her to keep going. “I’d like you to exclude the ligers from this public hunt that’s starting.”

Dell laughed and shook his head. “Everybody coming here wants to shoot the monster cats.” He picked up a stack of paper a quarter-inch thick. “These are inquiries and deposits. And we’ve got a web site up and running now. Already sold two hundred licenses at a thousand dollars each, and we’ll sell even more tomorrow. So what do we tell people? Huh? If a big, dangerous cat is charging you, hold your fire until you’re sure it’s not a liger? Hell, half these people can’t tell a lion from a tiger. We’ll get sued from California to Connecticut.” Dell looked to Jackson. “You know I’m right about this.”

“I just want the cats gone,” Jackson replied.

“So do I,” Dell said. He paused and then said to Katy, “Look, you’re a professional hunter. Surely you’re not worried a few ranchers and bankers and weekend hunters can beat you to these ligers? You want to save them, go
find them. Blow them away or dart them, your choice.” Dell smiled at her. “Think of it as a challenge.”

Upon leaving the bank Jackson and Katy drove to Jackson’s farm so Katy could pick up the Ford 350. For a while Katy was silent as she looked out at the parched, dusty land. Halfway there, she suddenly said, “On safari Dell is the kind of customer I worry about. He’ll take chances, unnecessary risks. It’s why I have strict rules and follow them. It keeps me alive.” She looked at Jackson. “Funny how his type attracts so many women.”

Yeah, funny, thought Jackson. “But not you?”

“Against my rules,” she said without humor.

When they arrived, Jackson took a county map out of the truck, and they went inside. He briefly showed Katy the house, but they didn’t spend much time on a tour. In the kitchen Jackson spread the county map on the table and pointed out the major roads. “There aren’t that many roads to show you,” he said. “Lots of logging roads and private roads, but they’re not on the map.”

“I’ll manage,” Katy told him. “Show me where the cat attacks and sightings have been?” Jackson indicated the Placett farm, the Bailey place, Wagner’s goat farm, and his own farm. “All of them are bunched near you,”
Katy noted. “It could mean you’re simply convenient. Or it could mean the cats are drawn here for food or shelter.”

“I got two quarter-horses out to pasture,” Jackson said. “And my daughter’s gelding, but he’s with the vet. Couple dozen head of Angus. But everybody has animals.”

“Well, the good news is the cats won’t likely roam very far. Not if there’s food and shelter right here.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Jackson said.

“I can help you bring your horses in. Your cattle probably should be penned and guarded or put in the barn.”

“My barn’s not big enough, and I can’t guard them.”

“I’d hate to see your horses get hurt.”

Jackson nodded. “Me too, and I’ll go find them as soon as I can, just not today. My job is to protect people. Right now, my animals are on their own.”

He started to fold up the map, but Katy stopped him. She tapped a finger on a darker green area. “What’s this?”

She was pointing to the westernmost sliver of Yellowstone National Park to the northeast. He told her about the west entrance and said, “I don’t even want to think about the mess if these cats got loose in the park.”

“Then I should get started.”

“Where?”

“This goat farm. Last place we know cats were seen. Can you come up with somebody to go hunting with me?”

Jackson recalled what Major Jessup had said about the two troopers he had left in town. “I think I might.”

The Roberts twins were waiting for Katy when she arrived at the Wagner goat farm. She had met both men on Monday morning while briefing the State Police hunters, but she had met many other people too, so she hadn’t really talked to them. Now, she asked them about their hunting background and heard about their military experience. They had never hunted big cats, but nobody she was likely to meet in Buckhorn had, except for Dell, and she guessed Dell’s brother, whom she was likely to meet on Tuesday.

When Katy asked to see their guns, they showed her sniper rifles and Glock handguns. Neither weapon was suitable for hunting lions, as the twins well knew. Dwight still was laughing at their joke as he produced a Remington 770. His cartridges were lighter than Katy liked, but it was a good rifle and could bring down a lion if the shots were well place. Bill had borrowed a .458 Lott and loaded it with 500-grain cartridges. It was overkill, but Katy preferred for them to have too much firepower than not enough. The Roberts twins will do fine, she thought.

The twins were both skilled hunters and adept at tracking. Even so, Katy led the way, and the men fell in step behind her. Between the scat and the blood, none of them had a problem following the trail. After crossing half-a-mile of fields, they reached a hill spiked with black limbless trees that looked like candles on a witch’s cake. Cheatgrass covered the ground, choking out most native plants. Sumac and rabbit brush and a few flowers sprouted up here and there. It was unusual territory for lions, which prefer open, grassy plains, but Katy looked for signs anyway. She found fresh blood clinging to the cheatgrass and pointed it out. “They went up hill.”

“Shit!” Dwight said. “I was afraid of that.”

They climbed the hill single file. Katy took the point and Bill the rear. All three hunters were in good shape for walking, but they went slowly and stopped often to examine the trail and to scout for lions.

After slogging through grass and brush for an hour, they came to a valley between two hills where the land flattened. Water from an underground source trickled through irrigation ditches. The land was being farmed.

“I’ll be a sonofabitch,” Dwight said, eyeing the remains of a marijuana field harvested a week or two ago.

“We’re on public land here,” Bill added.

“You get a lot of pot farms?” Katy asked.

“Our fair share,” Bill said. “Meth labs too.”

For a moment they all stood and eyed the half-acre. There was little left except for a few wilted plants.

“Let’s keep going,” Katy said. They did, walking rapidly through the pot farm. Despite the drought, the ground beneath them was soft, even squishy. Once they crossed the marijuana farm, they waded into yarrow, rabbit brush, silver sagebrush, and a clumped, tall grass that Katy didn’t recognize. They slowed the pace and moved eyes-alert and body-tense without speaking. Halfway through the valley, Katy signaled to stop. She squatted and took out a hunting knife and speared a piece of goat hide. Flesh still was attached to the underside of the hide. The flesh was bloody and wet. Wet meant recent.

Katy raised her gaze and looked into a pair of amber eyes. The male lion was forty feet away and low to the ground. He was crouched and locked in on her. Before Katy could say anything to alert the twins, the grass and brush parted revealing a golden-brown blur. Katy swung around the .375 and fired. She only got off a single shot. By the time the lion fell over, his tongue was licking her boot.

Seventeen

By Monday evening the streets were jammed with SUVs, pickups, campers, vans, and rental cars. Five media trucks emblazoned with initials also rolled into town. To handle the traffic Jackson called in half his reserve officers and John Plaides as well. His budget was being beat to hell. In addition to traffic snarls they dealt with two fights and three fender benders early that evening. The last fight resulted in an arrest. Jackson and officer Plaides cuffed the drunks to desks in the station until a deputy sheriff could pick them up. Jackson was getting coffee when Bill Kenny, a reserve officer, informed him that Iris was on television. The Idaho Lion Hunt was national news.

After watching Iris’ interview, Jackson worked out a schedule to have two reserve officers cruise the town at dawn and at sundown, when big cats were most on the move. The last thing he wanted was lions and tigers in Buckhorn.

He had not talked to Katy since she called to tell him about killing the lion near the Wagner goat farm, so after cruising the downtown area and surrounding
streets one more time, he drove to the Sportsman Motel. The lights were off in Katy’s room. Jackson didn’t see his truck in the parking lot, and he was about to drive away when Missy Yow stumbled out of a nearby motel room and vomited. In the seconds the motel door was open, Jackson heard loud hip-hop music and saw a few teenagers inside the room.

He got a bottle of water out of the Jeep and crossed to where Missy was retching. He waited for her to finish and then gave her the water. “You gonna be okay?”

“Oh god!” she said when she recognized who had asked the question. “I’m so sick. Uh, stomach flu I guess.”

“Nasty stuff, stomach flu.” Jackson went to the door. “Take some aspirin. Might help the hangover.” He opened the motel door and found a dozen teenagers gathered in the room. He spotted Shane, Buzz Phelps, Grace Lake, and two other kids he recognized as Jesse’s friends, as well as some kids he didn’t know well or at all. He smelled pot and saw two cases of beer. Grace turned off the boombox and the room got quiet. Then the bathroom door opened.

Jesse came out smiling and talking. “What’d everyone get so –” She stopped when she saw her father.

Christ! Jackson thought. “Whose room is this?”

After a long silence a tall curly-headed boy who looked about seventeen spoke up. “Mine, sir.”

Jackson didn’t know him. “What’s your name, son?”

“Justin Sable. I’m … I’m his cousin.” He pointed to Buzz Phelps. A junior at Buckhorn high, Buzz was Missy’s boyfriend. “My dad, he’s coming from Utah tomorrow for the hunt but he had to rent the room today or lose it so …”

“We got two people dead and one missing and others in the hospital, people some of you kids have known all your life. I should bust you just for being callous.” Jackson paused. “So listen up, all of you. I’m going to look the other way. When I turn back around, I expect to see any dope you got tossed on the bed.” There were two queen beds in the room. “The dope and the beer stay here. You don’t. You got thirty minutes to get home.” Jackson turned away as small amounts of loose pot, some joints, and tabs of Ecstasy were dropped on the bed before the kids scampered out. When Shane tried to leave, Jackson said, “Not you.”

“Daddy,” Jesse said. She hadn’t moved.

“You stay, Jesse. And you, Justin.” Jackson gathered up the drugs and told Shane to follow him. “I’m going to ask you something,” Jackson said when they were standing in front of the motel room. “And I want you to tell me the truth.” Jackson waited until Shane had nodded. “You and Jesse getting high in there like the others?”

Shane shuffled his feet before saying, “Well, I, uh, I smoked a little weed, but not Jesse. She never has, I don’t think. And she doesn’t like beer.”

“Jesse’s been through a lot these past few days, so I want you to cool it with her for a while.”

“You mean like break up? Stop seeing her?”

Jackson shook his head. “Shane, I know what’d happen if I said that. I’m just saying, might be good to cancel your social plans until … until things are normal.”

Minutes later, he let Shane leave. Then he talked to Justin Sable. He told the boy he was under house arrest and wasn’t to leave the motel room unless it was on fire. Jackson stuck crime scene tape across the door to further impress Justin and told Jesse he would take her home.

“Can’t I just go to the farm with you?”

“Not without telling your mom.”

Her face dropped. “Everything?”

Jackson didn’t answer, and when they reached Jesse’s home in town, she started to bail out before the Jeep rolled to a stop. “Hang on a minute,” Jackson said.

“Dad, Mom will kill me if –”

“Close the door,” Jackson told her. Jesse shut it softly. He opened the glove box and took out the condom Iris had given him. “Your mom found this in your dresser.”

“She searched my room? God!”

“Fifteen is kind of young, Jesse.”

“This is like so creepy.”

“Are you and Shane –?”

“NO! We’re not … I mean, I’m still … I’m not. God!”

Jackson indicated the condom in his hand. “Then what’re you doing with this condom and a dozen more?”

Jesse hesitated. “Do you have to tell Mom?”

“You’re really not in a position to bargain, Jesse.”

Jesse waited and Jackson waited and then she said, “I’m hiding them.” Jackson waited longer. “For Missy and Buzz. They used to keep them at school, but the principal started doing locker checks, even in the gym and stuff. And Missy’s mom, she’s like really strict, and so are Buzz’s parents. They all go to the same church.”

“Give the condoms back to them.”

“Please don’t tell Mom.”

“No promises,” Jackson said and then smiled. “But I think it can wait a few days.”

As Jackson returned to the police station he thought about how easy it was for kids to get liquor and drugs even in rural Idaho. The pot he knew about already. Rob Piccard, a young man who had returned badly messed up from Afghanistan, was the local supplier.
Jackson figured that as long as amounts were small, it was safer for the kids to buy pot from Piccard than to go out of town where they might encounter more serious criminals.

When Jackson reached Justin Sable’s father in Utah, the man raised all kinds of hell. He didn’t want Jackson talking to his son, a minor, without him being present. Reed Sable said he’d be in Buckhorn the following morning.

Katy returned to her motel room after having dinner at Palomino’s Bar & Grill and called Stan Ely. She asked him about the status of the injunction.

“We hit a snag,” Stan said. “Our paperwork won’t get filed ’til tomorrow. But I still hope we’ll get to argue it on Wednesday and get the judge to rule.”

“Look, I think it’s great you’re doing this.”

“Then go public with your support. It would help.”

“With the injunction? I don’t see how.”

“With me trying to raise money.”

If Stan arrived before she could capture Kali or any cubs Kali might have had already, Katy was certain he would want the rare liger cubs for his animal rescue ranch in Colorado. He would be a competitor. An injunction to end the hunt would help her, while Stan raising money to rush to Idaho would not. “Let me think about it,” Katy said.

Jackson slept fitfully on Monday night, his sleep dream-filled. He was up and in town early on Tuesday. He didn’t wear his uniform but took the dark blues and some black dress shoes to change into later that morning.

The day didn’t start well. Within two minutes of meeting Reed Sable, Jackson disliked him. Maybe it was because Sable tried to blame the local kids for the booze and drugs? Maybe it was because Sable asked Jackson if he was Mormon? Maybe it was because Sable was an investment banker? Or maybe Sable was simply easy to dislike?

Still, there was no reason to drag it out. Jackson had gotten the information he wanted from Justin Sable: the pot was local, the “X” came from Seattle, and the beer was purchased by Grace Lake, a senior, using a fake ID. It had come from a store in Idaho Falls. Grace already had turned in her fake ID and agreed to do community service.

“Justin won’t be charged with anything, Mr. Sable. I’ll leave any punishment up to you.” Before Sable could say anything more to irritate him, Jackson stood, shook hands, and wished Sable and his son good luck on the hunt.

Iris showed up at his door not long after Sable left. She wore a black dress with black pumps and had toned down her usual bright lipstick for something barely noticeable.

“Why is Annie Oakley shooting lions before the hunt even begins?” she asked.

“Annie Oakley? Where’d that come from?”

“She didn’t buy a license.”

“And Katy’s not going to. She’s helping me.”

“I bet she is.”

“She helped Dix and Anita Wagner too. Dix will be fine, in case you didn’t know.”

Iris shifted to a friendlier tone. “Dan Tapper wants to meet her, so make sure she comes to the lunch.”

Jackson nodded. “I’ll pass the invitation along.”

Iris hesitated. “You talk to Jesse yet?”

“Not yet,” he said, lying. “But I will. Soon.”

“The lion hunt is going to work,” Iris said as she walked off. “Don’t be late for lunch. And bring Annie Oakley.”

The door had barely closed on Iris when Jackson heard the helicopter. Last night, news helicopters had buzzed the area so often that he had contacted Boise and the FAA. Once he did, the flight path had been restricted. Nobody wanted to risk the choppers scaring the cats and causing them to scatter. The no-fly-rule over the town, thought Jackson, must not apply to the lieutenant governor.