Montana Summer Ch. 10

They had sent the other two hunters back to the village. It was time to move the village the—herd was moving. It would be at least a week before the village would catch up to them. Ryan hefted the sack of dried meat that was tied to his horse and was satisfied that there was plenty of food for the two men.

Grey Eagle climbed off of his horse and put his ear to the ground. He listened intently for the telltale sound of buffalo on the move. "No sound."

Ryan slipped off of his pony and knelt to the ground and examined the signs. The buffalo droppings were still fresh, the tracks in the ground were still sharp. Ryan looked carefully at one hoof print in the dirt. The edges of the print hadn't had time for the wind to erode them.

"How old are the tracks?" Grey Eagle asked.

"Less than a day, maybe early this morning," Ryan answered as he stared to the east. "Maybe they've slowed down, or have stopped."

Grey Eagle stared off in the same direction as Ryan. The sound of the screech of a hunting red-tailed hawk caused the both of them to look skyward.

"I wish I had the eyes of our brother in the sky," commented Grey Eagle.

"Yes," Ryan replied. "He can probably see the herd from where he is."

They spent the afternoon riding and following the tracks of the bison herd. The village would soon be struck, the thipis pulled down. Litters would be made from the long pine poles and all of the village's belongings would be loaded on them. Then the trek to follow the herd would begin.

Just before dark, Ryan and Grey Eagle stopped at the bank of a small river and made camp for the night. They had confirmed that the herd hadn't crossed and had turned south, following the meanderings of the river.

Ryan helped gather up wood for the fire. He watched as Grey Eagle struck his steel knife against a piece of flint. A large spark dropped into the small pile of dried grass. Grey Eagle carefully blew on the spark. He nurtured the spark as several strands of grass began to smolder. With a practiced hand he dropped in pieces of crushed, dried leaves. Smoke began to curl up from the dried grass. Suddenly a small flame burst into life. More and more dried grass and dry twigs were added. As the fire began to grow, larger pieces of wood were added. The fire was typical of any Indian fire and it was kept relatively small so the two men could sit close and stay warm. They heated pieces of dried meat over the flames and ate and talked quietly.

Grey Eagle was about the same age as Ryan, and was yet unmarried. There was a girl in the camp that he had his eye on. He told Ryan that he had heard through certain intermediaries that she liked him also. Grey Eagle told Ryan that he was gathering gifts to be presented to the girl's father and then the courtship would begin in earnest.

They talked way into the night, sharing their hopes and dreams. They could have been two young men from anywhere in the world and anywhere in time.

Ryan slipped under his sleeping robe. As he closed his eyes, Ryan found himself alone in a dim world that was neither light nor dark. Ryan heard the grumbling growl of the bear before he saw him.

Mato spoke as he sat on his haunches, looking almost man-like. "That was the Lakota way in those days, following the great herds as they roamed the plains. Most times they moved slowly, depending on the grasses. Our people would follow and try to stay close to sources of water."

"How did the Lakota come to live in the mountains around where the ranch is now?" Ryan asked.

"As the white man moved west, some of the Lakota moved west ahead of them, trying to cling to their way of life," Mato replied. "They were some of the lucky ones. They were missed in the initial round ups of the Lakota due to the isolation of the area and they weren't forced to live on the reservations."

"It's too bad the fires did so much damage," Ryan remarked as he reflected on what he remembered of his time with Grey Eagle.

"Grass fires were feared and respected. Fire renewed life. It was the same in the forests where the fire would kill the diseased and insect-infested trees and start the life of the forest all over again. Some of the trees of the forest need the heat of the fire for their seeds to open up. Today the white man tries to control the fires and they don't let them burn. One day the forests will burn with a ferocity that hasn't been seen in a long time. The way of Wakan Tanka is better—it keeps the balance."

Ryan nodded as he listened. He wanted to wake up but when he tried to bring himself to consciousness, he was unable to do so. Finally, he gave up and looked at the bear. "I keep trying to wake up, but I can't. Why can't I wake up?"

Mato shook his head. "I don't know. You have been hurt, I can feel that. Spotted Owl said that you were in a place with medicine men."

"Yes, I guess that means that I am in a hospital." It was the only thing that made any sense to Ryan. He knew that he wasn't dead, and that had been his initial fear.

---

Walter pointed to a spot in the bushes. "He was there for a long time. Look at how some of the grass is pressed down into the earth. He had a good view of the camp from here."

Milt nodded. "Yeah. It looks like he watched the camp from here. When Ryan started riding night herd he must have backtracked to his vehicle, dumped off his gear, and then went to the spot where he ambushed Ryan from."

"Yup. I think you got it right." Walter nodded.

"That only leaves one question." Milt looked over to where the coroner was preparing to load Sal's body into his van.

Walter knew what that question was. And he had an idea what the answer was. It wasn't one he was going to put forward, however, certainly not to the sheriff.

"Where the hell did the arrows come from?" Milt rubbed his chin. He had exhausted all possibilities. There were no other vehicle tracks. The only recent tracks made by horses could be accounted for. "How the hell does a man get off eleven rounds and take five arrows in his chest and not leave any signs of anything?"

Walter just shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, I can tell you one thing. Cliff Thomas, the District Attorney is going to love this. Especially this being an election year. He's going to be on my ass like white on rice."

A small piece of silver plastic wrap caught Walter's eyes. He reached in and picked it up. "Looks like he might have had something to eat, like a granola bar, here."

Milt took a small envelope from his pocket and opened it. "I think I saw some sort of power bar in his vehicle. We'll see if this matches. For all the good that will do. I can see myself now." He pretended he was talking to the DA. "Yes, we do know he ate a power bar from where he watched the camp. We have no idea where the arrows came from, or who shot the arrows into the deceased."

"That's why you get paid the big bucks, Milt." Walter wore a wry grin on his face. He looked down at the camp and saw that they were almost ready to move out. "Well, if you are done with me, I'll get over to the camp and give them a hand moving them cattle. They are a bit short handed right now."

"Yeah, Walter, you go ahead and give them a hand. I appreciate all of your help." Milt nodded. "Would you mind taking my horse down with you. I'll come back up later and hook up to the horse trailer and pick him up tonight or tomorrow."

"No problem," Walt answered. "I've got a few to take with me. Having a few extra horses around never hurt."

---

It was about noon when Bill, Suzanne, and Becky arrived at the hospital in Missoula. Each had tried at various times to get some rest as they drove but were unable to fall asleep.

They walked into Ryan's room. Charlie was sound asleep in the chair beside the bed, his hand was still holding Ryan's hand.

Bill tapped Charlie gently on the shoulder. "Charlie."

Charlie's eyes snapped open, and he grinned at Bill. "You better be careful sneaking up on an Indian like that. I might not have been sleeping."

A feeling of relief surged through Bill's body. If Charlie was cracking jokes, then what Jessi had told Becky earlier on the phone must be true.

Pointing at Ryan, Bill asked, "How is he? Any change?"

"No," Charlie answered. "Another doctor is supposed to see him today, some kind of a specialist. The doctor that was here earlier said that they were going to keep Ryan..." Charlie struggled to remember the exact words the doctor had used. "They are going to keep him in a drug-induced coma for a few days. He said that this was normal with injuries like what Ryan has."

"What about the gun shot?" Bill asked.

"Just nicked him good." Charlie answered. "They cleaned it up and put a dressing on it."

Suzanne and Becky were on the other side of the bed. Each had tears in their eyes. First Suzanne, then Becky, gave Ryan a hug, and a kiss.

"Where's Jessi?" Becky asked Charlie.

"Down the hall," Charlie replied. "They have a room down there for family members to get some rest in. I walked her down there earlier so she could get some sleep."

"Do you want me to drive you over to the hotel so you can get some sleep?" Bill asked Charlie.

Charlie shook his head. "No, I would sooner just get some rest here."

Jessi walked into the room. Her face lit up when she saw her parents and her best friend.

She gave everyone a hug. "I'm glad you made it. Have you heard from Uncle Roy?"

Bill shook his head, "No, but we were out of cell range for a lot of the trip. I'm going to try to call him here in a few minutes."

Charlie stood up and stretched. "I think I will try to get a little sleep."

Jessi wrapped her arms around Charlie and hugged him. "I'm glad you came with me. I don't know what I would have done without you here with me."

"I'm just glad that you let me come," Charlie responded.

After Charlie left, Jessi whispered into her father's ear, "Can I talk to you outside the room?"

Bill's eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. "Sure." He followed Jessi out. "Okay, what's up?"

"I saw one of them." Jessi was almost breathless.

"Saw who?" Bill asked.

"One of those spirit riders." Jessi looked around to make sure no one could hear them.

Bill was astonished. "Where?"

"In Ryan's room. He was standing there talking to Ryan."

"Are you sure you weren't sleeping and just dreamed it?"

Jessi shook her head. "No! Charlie, was there with me. He told me what he was saying. He was talking to Ryan. After a few minutes, he walked over to Charlie, and told him to tell me to go to Ryan."

Bill didn't quite know what to say. "Are you sure?" That was all that he could come up with.

Jessi gave her father an impatient look. "Yes Dad! I'm sure! Go talk to Charlie, he will tell you." She pointed down the hall. "Room five-thirty-six."

Bill nodded. "I think I will do just that. You tell your mother that I'm going to go try Roy again."

He knocked quietly on the door and walked in. He was glad to see that Charlie wasn't asleep yet. "Charlie, can I have a word with you?"

"Sure." Charlie sat up on the side of the bed. "I think I know what this is about, Jessi told you about Spotted Owl. He's one of the Wanagi that Ryan has seen."

"So it is true?" Bill had fully expected Charlie to deny the whole story.

"Yes," Charlie replied as he nodded. "It is true."

"Why? Why Ryan?" Bill was beginning to get overwhelmed.

"I don't know why it is Ryan." Charlie began. "All I know is that he is tied to the Wanagi somehow and is wakan."

Bill rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Spotted Owl, wasn't that the name of the chief when my great-grandfather first moved here?"

"Yes, it is the same person," Charlie answered.

"Hell, Ryan isn't even Lakota. I just don't understand."

"I don't understand, either. Your great-grandfather wasn't Lakota but I think some of him lives in the boy, and I think that is why he is important to the Wanagi." Charlie shook his head. "More has happened to that boy in a few months than has happened to me in a lifetime. Do you realize that he can speak Lakota as well or maybe even better than I do?"

Bill shook his head. "No, I had no idea."

"I know he told you about the dream he had with the bear in it." Charlie waited for Bill to respond.

"Yeah, he told me a little about it. That's when I gave you a call," Bill answered.

"What I don't think he told you about the dream, or maybe he just didn't realize it at the time was that he lived lifetime after lifetime as a Lakota in that dream. I know it doesn't sound possible, but he did. That's why he could ride like he does now. He had lifetimes of experience to fall back on. He has told me things..." Charlie paused and looked out the window. Tears were beginning to well up in his eyes. "In that boy, there lives the spirit of a warrior. He has shown my son what it means to be proud of being Lakota." Charlie began to chuckle. "Do you know what that boy told me when we were coming back down off of Baxter's?"

Bill shook his head. "No, I have no idea. What did he tell you?"

"He told me that he was going to teach me how to shoot a bow from a running horse." Charlie shook his head. "He is going to teach me how to hunt tatanka, buffalo."

Bill sat there confused. He had come to Charlie with what he thought was one simple question, and now had more questions than he had answers.

"Was it Spotted Owl and the others that did that fellow in?" Bill asked.

Charlie nodded, "Yes, it was."

"One more question, why was Spotted Owl here?"

"I can't say for sure. I think he was here to make sure that Ryan lived." Charlie answered.

---

"Here's the printout from NCIC." Deputy Travis Parks handed Milt the single sheet of paper.

Milt looked over the printout—absolutely no convictions, a perfectly clean record. He thought for a moment. "Send the prints to the FBI, see if Salvatore Castolinni is who he said he was."

Travis nodded and headed for the door, then he stopped and turned. "Oh, before I forget, we called the home number that was on the bail form but it's his cell number. There are no numbers stored in it, and it looks like he had cleared out any recent call information."

Milt thought for a minute. "Call over to Cliff Thomas' office and see if we can't get a subpoena issued for his cell phone records."

"I'm on it," responded Travis as he left Milt's office.

The only things that had been found in Sal's pockets were the bond receipt he had received when he had left the jail and a wallet. The wallet contained a few hundred dollars in cash and a driver's license. No credit cards, no notes, no receipts. It was the wallet of a man trying to remain hidden.

Milt looked at a copy of the bail-bond. He picked up the phone and dialed the number listed for the bond guarantor.

---

Kenny and Stella were just finishing breakfast in the hotel room when Kenny's cell phone began to ring. He picked up the phone and frowned when he looked at the number on the display. "Hello?"

"Yes, that's me," Kenny answered the caller's question.

"Oh, hello sheriff." Kenny looked at Stella and shrugged his shoulders.

"No, I haven't heard from Mr. Castolinni since I posted his bail. Why? Is there a problem?"

"Yes, I know where Hank is. He is in Denver. I put him on the plane myself." Kenny was confused at the line of questioning. "Yes, I know where she is. She is here with me, and has been the entire time since being released."

"No, I don't know if Mr. Castolinni has any family. Why?"

Kenny dropped his fork on the table and his face went pure white.

Stella became concerned. "What's doing on?" she whispered.

"Yes, you should be able to get Hank at the number on his bond. I have called him several times over the past couple of days on it." Kenny was still white when he sat the phone down.

He looked at Stella. "Sal. He's..." Kenny couldn't believe what he had heard. "He's dead."

Stella was shocked. She had never cared much for Sal—she always found him to be almost cold. One thing was for sure, he had remained impervious to her feminine charms. In the two years that Sal had been with she and Hank there wasn't a time she could remember Sal being with a woman. "What happened?"

"Don't know for sure, the sheriff didn't say."

---

Hank was still in bed when his cell phone woke him up. As soon as he opened his eyes, he felt his head pounding. "Yeah." His voice was raw and gruff. His hand instinctively reached for a cigarette.

"Yeah, I'm Hank! Who the fuck are you?" Hank's hangover was making him irritable.

Hank grimaced as the caller introduced himself as the sheriff of the podunk town that he had been arrested in. "What can I do for you?"

"I think Sal had a sister somewhere in Arizona." Hank searched for his cigarette lighter. He cursed silently when it fell to the floor.

Hank shook his head. "No, I don't know what her name is. Why?"

His hangover disappeared for the moment. "He's what? He's dead? What happened?"

Hank set his phone on the nightstand and sat down on the bed.

A groggy voice sounded from the other side of the bed. "What time is it?"

"It's early, go back to sleep." Hank had all but forgotten about the stripper he had picked up last night at the club. Sal was dead. It seemed so incomprehensible. He had just seen Sal the day before yesterday. Hank laid back down on the bed and tried to make some sense of the situation.

---

Norm Campbell heard the doorbell ring. He glanced at his watch. If nothing else, Vincenzo was prompt. He made one final check of his appearance in the mirror, picked up his attaché case, and opened the door.

Vincenzo nodded his head in approval. "You look very good, Mr. Campbell. I'm glad to see that you decided to cooperate with us."

Once at the restaurant, Norm was directed to sit on a chair in the kitchen. He only sat for about five minutes before Vincenzo came back and directed him into the restaurant itself.

After Norm was seated, Tony looked at Vincenzo. "You can wait outside."

"I would like to thank you for taking time out from your day to come and see me." Tony looked directly into Norm's eyes. "I understand that you have a debt—a debt that you unfortunately are unable to repay at this time."

Norm struggled to find something to say. "Well, I uh, lost my job and ..."

Tony held up his hand. "That's not why I asked for you to come here. I understand that you are a mining engineer?"

Norm shook his head. "No, I am not an engineer. I am geologist. I do have some experience on the processing end of mining."

"What kind of mining do you have experience with?" Tony carefully watched Norm for any signs of deception.

Norm felt a little more at ease as he answered. "Mainly copper and gold."

"Very good." Tony leaned back in his chair. "Now, I will tell you why I have asked you here. I have an associate who is in need of a person such as yourself. I don't think my friend is being completely honest with me. I need a man who knows where his loyalties lay. Do you understand what I am saying"

"Yes, I think I know what you are saying."

Tony nodded his head. "Good. I like having people around me that I can trust. You will do what my friend asks you to do. You will also report to me as to what you may happen to find. My friend will pay you well for your time. If you live up to your side of the bargain, then, your gambling debt will be forgiven."

Norm Campbell nodded. On one hand, it was good that he would be employed in some manner and that the dark cloud of his debt would finally be lifted. On the other hand, he wondered what he was getting him self into, but he felt like he had no other choice.

After Norm had left, Tony spoke with Vincenzo. "I appreciate what you have done. You have found a suitable candidate for what Kenny is looking for. I will call him tonight and let him know that we think we have found someone for him. I don't want to tell him too soon. He may get suspicious if we come up with a person too fast. We'll just let the two of them sit for a couple of days."