Tainted Trail (10 page)

“Couldn't the wolves tell you?” Cassidy asked blandly, getting a laugh from the men.

“They didn't talk,” Ukiah said. “They knew me well enough to share their kill with me, that was all.”

“Uncle died in 1933,” Uncle Daniel said quietly. “My father never accepted it, but that's the truth. He thinks he saw Uncle, running with the wolves, even when it was impossible.”

Uncle Quince added, “If all the family legends are true, and Uncle did return to us, you could not be him. If the legends are not true, again, you could not be him.”

Ukiah tried to puzzle this out, but there were too many mysteries fighting for his attention. “He died? How did he die?”

“He was killed,” Lou said.

“Killed!” Cassidy gave a breathless half laugh. “That doesn't do it justice. Do you know why my brother is a cop? When we were little, Grandpa used to talk about how much Jared was like Uncle. Then one day, we were digging in Grandpa's things, messing with stuff we shouldn't have been into, and we found a book with photos of what happened to Uncle.” Judging by the men's reactions, everyone in the family had seen the book at one point or another. “Jared woke up screaming for a month. It
really
bothered him that Uncle's murderer was never found.”

Photos? Police photos of his murder? Ukiah wondered how many times, during his life, the police were going to make a record of his death. This was the second time that he knew of; luckily, his other deaths had gone unnoticed by the police. Both recorded deaths, it seemed, were incredibly violent—then again, anything short of that didn't put him down long enough for the police to get involved. “What happened? Who killed him? And why does your grandfather think he's still alive?”

The Kicking Deers—his family—looked at one another, and the eldest among them shook his head.

“We don't talk about it,” Uncle Daniel said.

“It's the only defense we have against fakes,” Cassidy said.

“You said yourself that you don't remember,” Lou said. “So how can
you
be sure you are our Uncle?”

“I'm not,” Ukiah said. “It just seems that if you're
missing a feral Indian boy, and I was found running with the wolves—well—it just seems likely I'm your Uncle.”

The cowbell clanged as the door opened and Sam came in. She nodded around to the Kicking Deers. “Lou, Dan, Quince. Good to see you.
Cassidy. What's that monstrosity you've got blocking up the back?
”

“The wood chipper? Shoot I forgot.” Cassidy made a face and pulled keys out of her pocket. “Uncle Quince, can you move that for me?” He nodded, standing, and caught the keys she tossed to him. She went on to explain the wood chipper's presence as Uncle Quince ambled out the back door. “I got it off the Highway Division. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it. It was cheap. I'm making mulch from cedar for the time being.”

“Ah!” Sam said, enlightened. “I had to come back around again and find parking in the front.”

“Sorry. What can I do for you?”

Sam glanced meaningfully at Ukiah.

“We're through with our business.” Cassidy said, crossing her arms.

“Ah! So, how's that deputy of your brother's?”

“Which one? Tommy? What, you sweet on him, Killington?”

“Hell, no!” Sam picked two of the midget-sized peppermint patties out of a box beside the cash register. She fished a fist of change out of her pocket, jiggled it around until she found two quarters, and paid for the candy. “I meant Brody. He any better?”

Cassidy sighed. “No. He's still shuffling around like a zombie. You whites are too reserved at grieving. You keep all that pain in, swallow it down to poison you. It's better to wail than to suffer in silence.”

Sam sighed at the news, and tossed one of the candies to Ukiah. “One of the deputies, Matt Brody, lost his kid in June. He's one of my drowning victims.”

“Oh.”

“He and his wife took it hard. They're both like stick puppets.”

“A lot of grief in this town lately,” Lou said. “Lots of people walking around shell-shocked.”

“Yeah, it seems like Harry's death just sucked the life out of Matt.” Cassidy rang up the sale and then indicated Ukiah with a thrust of her jaw. “I wondered how he figured out where to find us.”

“A woman's got to do business.” Sam leaned against the counter. “I'm just dealing in information. It's not like I held out for a cut of the reward.”

“Reward?” Ukiah said. And then things clicked. The glut of people wanting to see Jesse Kicking Deer. The unlisted phone numbers. The hostility. “There's a reward for producing the Umatilla Wolf Boy?”

“You didn't know?” Sam asked.

“The newspaper clipping we were working from didn't mention it.”

“Yeah, right,” Cassidy said.

“Look, if it's the money that's the problem, I can sign a paper, waiving the reward.”

“Don't you even want to know how much it is?” Sam asked.

“No. Money isn't important to me.”

“It's a hundred thousand dollars,” Sam said. “The Kicking Deers have been holding a nest egg for the boy for over seventy years. Jesse Kicking Deer decided to blow it all just to get the boy back.”

“The money isn't important,” Ukiah repeated.

“Sure it isn't,” Cassidy said.

Ukiah looked at them, saw the hostility in their eyes, and another connection was made. “Is that why one of you shot me? To keep me from claiming the money?”

He was watching Cassidy, who had been the easiest to read. Confusion came first. Then a look of anger, which gave way to sudden horror.

“No!” Cassidy cried. “That couldn't have been one of us!”

“You're not sure, though, are you?” Ukiah said.

The moment of doubt, though, was gone. “If we shot everyone that claimed to be the Umatilla Wolf Boy,
Pendleton would be littered with bodies!” Cassidy snapped. “Every idiot in Oregon, California, Washington, and Idaho has besieged us with claims. We've had people show up with a child's skeleton—made in Korea, thank God—a forged John Doe death certificate from Baker County, a little old wrinkled man who turned out to be Navaho, and one bastard that actually dug up a Kicking Deer grave for an authentic dead boy's body. Him, we would have shot,
if
we were going to shoot anyone.”

“And can you prove that you were here yesterday,” Ukiah asked, “at the time of the shooting?”

“Yes I can,” Cassidy snapped angrily, then looking at Ukiah's shattered arm, pulled back some of that anger. “Look, Jared called me the night before last to say another ‘Wolf Boy' had shown up. He wanted to know how you found Mom's place. He said that you had the weakest claim yet. You're the wrong age. You have no physical proof. You didn't even have a reasonable story. I'm sorry someone hurt you, but it wasn't one of us.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sam said. “You mean
you're
the Umatilla Wolf Boy?”

“Yes” Ukiah said.

“What's this ‘John Doe client' bullshit?” Sam asked.

“It's not something I like talking about,” Ukiah said. “It's embarrassing to tell someone that the only childhood memories you have is running naked in the woods. My mothers hired Max to find out who I was. That's how Max and I first met. He came to Pendleton looking for the identity of a John Doe child between the ages of thirteen and sixteen in 1999.”

Sam frowned and looked to Cassidy, “I thought the Wolf Boy was supposed to be old, like in his eighties or something.”

“Uncle died in 1933,” Cassidy stated. “Grandpa never got over it. When people started to sight the Wolf Boy back in the nineties, he set up the reward, but it's not the same person.”

Was he the same person? He could be, but only if the boy had been him. He could have survived a murder and being lost in the woods for decades. A normal Native American
child, though, would have stayed dead. How could he know without talking to someone that knew the boy?

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “You can't win them all, Wolf Boy. Come on, I'll give you a lift back to your hotel.”

Behind Ukiah, the door opened and the cowbell clanged in warning of another customer.

Cassidy glanced over Ukiah's shoulder and then sighed. “If you have nothing you want to buy, it would be best if you go.”

He started to turn away, and then remembered Max's comment at the hospital. “Actually, I need a hacksaw.”

Sam announced that she'd be out in the car.

Cassidy Kicking Deer rang up the purchase and slipped the hacksaw into a plastic bag to make it easier for Ukiah to carry. “What do you want this for?”

Ukiah lifted up the cast. “To cut this off.”

Anger, disbelief, and glimmers of belief warred on Cassidy's face. Apparently she could not decide if he was truly a family legend returning home or a clever con artist scheming to trick her family out of a lot of money. In the end, disbelief won out. “Have a nice day,” she said coldly, meaning it as a dismissal.

 

Ukiah used his card key to get into his room, wishing Max had been there to greet him. He stretched out on the bed, heartsick from the day. Alicia was still missing, someone had tried to kill him, and the Kicking Deers thought he was a con artist. Sleep would be a welcome distraction. Luckily his body was battered enough, and his breakfast large enough, that he dropped off almost immediately.

He woke to his phone chirping on the nightstand. Indigo's phone number showed in the display. He hit the talk button. “Hi. I miss you.”

As if the words opened a wound, he suddenly missed her horribly. It was the first time that they had been separated.

“I miss you,” Indigo murmured. “How do you feel?”

He considered his body. “A little sore. I'll be able to track tomorrow, after a big dinner tonight and a good night's sleep.”

And truthfully, he realized, it wasn't the first time they had been apart. Indigo's FBI work had taken her a field several times in the last two months. It was the first time he was away, with no friends or family except Max and Kraynak to disguise their separation.

“Good. Any news on Alicia?”

“Um, I've been asleep. I haven't heard anything all day.” Suddenly a flash of fear went through him. What if Max and Kraynak both had been shot? Who would call him? “Can I call you back? I just had a panic attack over Max—I'm going to stay worried until I talk to him.”

“I understand. I'll be here for the rest of the evening.”

“Thanks.”

“I know you'd do the same for me.”

They said quick good-byes and he hit the speed dial for Max.

“Bennett.” Max answered on the first ring.

“It's me. I was just getting worried that I hadn't heard from you.”

Max laughed. “Actually, same here. I've got a gun, Kraynak, and half the Umatilla county police force with me. You've got a busted-up arm, walking on a crutch, no gun, and are completely alone in a strange city.”

“I'm amazed you left me alone.”

“I don't know what I was thinking about.”

“Alicia.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. I'm holed up in the hotel room right now. I had an interesting talk with Sam Killington about statistical deviations from the norm. There's a weird pattern of elevated death rates in the area. House fire fatalities is one.”

“Sounds like she's doing insurance-fraud investigation.”

“Well, missing hikers is another elevated rate.”

“Oh, damn. One of Kicking Deer's deputies—he's one of those big, dumb-blond ox types—has a theory that a hunter shot you, despite the fact it's out of season for just about everything.”

“With that high-power of a rifle?”

“Yeah, I know. Stupid as it is, we've been hoping it might be true.”

“Sam has no proof that the fires and hikers are connected, just statistics.”

“Something is juggling the numbers, kid. I've told you that sometimes the only way you can see the passing elephant herd is to look at the numbers on the seismograph.”

Ukiah consulted his nearly perfect memory. “No you haven't.”

“Well, I should have. Look, we're calling it a night here. It's getting dark. Kraynak and I will be back in Pendleton in an hour or so. The three of us can compare notes over diner. See you then.”

Ukiah hung up and dialed Indigo again.

“Special Agent Zheng,” she answered.

“Max is fine, but they haven't found anything. They're on the way back.”

“You'll be out first thing tomorrow,” she reminded him. “You'll find her.”

He found himself smiling under her calm assurance. Indigo was the most centered person he knew, unruffled in the face of death and destruction, with a stillness that was a peaceful refuge for him. In the face of confusion and chaos of the everyday world, he found her tranquility a joy and blessing.