Montana Unbranded

“You can do this,” she said, wrapping one arm around the foal’s neck to steady it. “You can do this. You have to, because I can’t carry you. And if you stay here, you’ll die.” She looked over her shoulder. “Win, Rem, come on, boys. We’re going down the mountain now.”

* * *

SATURDAY BARBECUE AT the Bow and Arrow was a tradition that Ramalda presided over with the practiced efficiency of a seasoned military commander. Joe was seated on the porch beside Pony. She’d already given him a house tour, showed him where the bathroom was, where his bedroom would be if he chose to stay and poured him a tall glass of water from a pitcher with lemon slices and ice. “Just relax and watch the show,” she told him with a smile. “I hope you are hungry, because if you don’t eat a lot, Ramalda will think you are sick, and if she thinks you are sick, you are doomed.”

Joe was content to sit and watch, and Pony was right—it was a show. Boys running every which way between the barn and corrals and ranch house. Stout, maternal Ramalda, blue bandanna tied over white hair, scolding them to no effect in nonstop heated Spanish while basting the ribs roasting over the coals with her special sauce, baking corn bread in cast-iron skillets in the reflector oven and stirring a huge pot of spiced chili beans. All of this was being cooked on a giant outside grill beneath a covered patio flanked by two picnic tables. Pony was in and out of the house constantly, setting the two picnic tables and helping Ramalda with the preparations. Joe sipped his water and enjoyed the aromas of mesquite smoke and barbecue. He marveled that in just one day he’d gone from lying in a Providence hospital room that smelled of rubbing alcohol and sickness to sitting on a Montana porch admiring a spectacular Rocky Mountain sunset and hearing the distant whinny of a real horse as the cool air sank into the river valley. His sister was smitten with the baby she still held in her arms as she interacted with the rest of the kids. She was clearly in her element here, among a pack of lively Crow children and some very good friends.

Steven Young Bear walked up from the corrals and dropped onto the bench beside Joe. “Do not let those young renegades talk you into any rodeo activities,” he advised, brushing some dirt off his jeans. “You will pay for it.”

“Don’t worry,” Joe said. “I’ve never ridden a horse and I’m not about to start now.”

“That is what I said when I first came here.”

Joe eased himself on the bench and took another swallow of water. “I can see why Molly likes this place.”

“It grows on you,” Steven agreed. “My sister has done a good job with the school. The boys were difficult at first, but two of them are about to graduate with their GEDs, and Roon is doing well enough that Pony thinks he might go on to college. She has made a big difference with these kids. Caleb has given her a good life here. She is happy but it is becoming too much. The buffalo herd is growing, the market for range-raised buffalo is getting bigger... Pony cannot do it all, especially with that little one to watch.”

“Maybe Caleb should hire more help.”

“When he gets here, you can tell him that. He’s tried to hire outsiders, but Pony won’t let him. She thinks the boys should be able to help keep the ranch running, but they are kids,” Steven said, settling back on the bench. “Caleb will be back shortly. He took two of the boys to a livestock auction. He gives them each a certain amount of money to bid. He says it is the best way to teach them about math and critical thinking at warp speed.”

“Huh,” Joe said. “What happens if they win what they bid on?”

“If they win, he brings it home and they have to take care of it. This teaches them responsibility.”

“And this is a livestock auction?”

Steven nodded. “Yes.”

Joe thought about that for a moment. “We grew up in the city and couldn’t even have a dog,” he said. “I wonder if Caleb would be interested in adopting me. I’m good at math, but I’m not so sure about the critical thinking at warp speed.”

Steven grinned. “You will have to ask him. He should be here soon. He just called Pony to warn her about the goats.”

“Goats?”

“It would seem one of the boys bid successfully.”

Sure enough, within minutes, a big Chevy Suburban towing a livestock trailer came into view, climbed the gentle grade from the creek and pulled up near the corrals. Doors opened and two boys climbed out. A tall, athletic, sandy-haired man with a mustache emerged from the driver’s seat, raised an arm toward the house in a casual wave and turned to embrace Pony.

Steven pushed to his feet and brushed more dirt off his pants. “Do you like goats?” he said to Joe.

Joe stood. “Guess I’m about to find out,” he said and followed Steven down the steps. When they reached the corrals he was introduced to Caleb McCutcheon, a retired baseball Hall-of-Famer, and the boys, Jimmy and Roon, who had pooled their auction money to buy the goats. “They’re an Alpine/Saanen cross,” Jimmy said as Caleb lowered the ramp on the back of the livestock trailer. “They make the best-tasting milk and cheese. It was a really good price for all five of them, and they’re real pretty,” he added.

“Pretty does not pay the rent,” Pony said, opening the corral gate. “Let’s have a look. We’ll get them settled in, give them hay and water and then you boys better get washed up. It’s time to eat.”

“The owner said their milk makes the best soft cheese on the market, and it’s really popular,” Jimmy said as Roon began to lead the goats out of the trailer. They were smallish, brown-and-black colored with big udders, droopy ears and strange yellow eyes. They had collars around their necks with plastic numbered tags dangling from them. “He said we could make a lot of money selling the cheese.”

“Is that right?” Pony said. “Do you know what Montana’s rules and regulations are for making and selling cheese from a home dairy?”

Jimmy shook his head.

“Then you can probably guess what tomorrow’s lessons are going to be about, right, boys?” she said. They all nodded. “Five goats, that’s a lot of milking. Who is going to be in charge of that?”

“Only three are milking, the other two are dry but the owner thinks they could be pregnant,” Jimmy said. He was stroking one of the goats, who seemed more interested in butting him than in being petted.

“How nice. An expanding goat dairy,” Pony said. She caught Caleb’s eye. “What’s next? Llamas?”

“I think they’re sweet,” Molly said, still holding the little girl on her hip. “I’ll buy some of your cheese, Jimmy. I love chèvre with herbs mixed in it.”

“See, we have our first customer!” Jimmy crowed triumphantly.

At that moment Ramalda rang the dinner bell. She rang it long and loud, the sound peeling out across the valley. The boys didn’t need much persuasion. They were hungry. They rushed to get the goats into the corral, lug water and bring hay. Then they sprinted for the house to wash up. The adults fell in behind, walking at a more sedate pace toward the barbecue pit and picnic tables. “Just so you know,” Joe heard Pony say to Caleb, “I am not going to be the one milking those goats twice a day.”

He heard Caleb laugh softly in reply. “They know the rules, and they know I’ll enforce them. You won’t become a milkmaid, I promise. I talked to the farmer who was selling them. He’s in his late seventies, his wife’s health is failing, so he’s downsizing his herd. These five milk goats are gentle, they’ve been well cared for and they’re all young and healthy. If it doesn’t work out and we have to bring them back to the auction, the boys will make their money back. They really did get them for a steal, and it’ll teach them all about the legal hoops a farmer has to jump through to sell home-raised and -produced product.”

“And all about milking twice a day, rain or shine, winter or summer, which includes today right after supper because three of those goats need milking very soon, and then straining the milk and pasteurizing it and making the cheese. Don’t forget making the cheese,” Pony added. “Somehow I can’t see the other boys helping out with this production.”

“They don’t have to. They didn’t buy the goats. Roon and Jimmy did.”

“Roon’s going to be working with Jessie full-time this summer and they’ll be on the road doing farm and ranch calls dawn to dusk. When is he going to have time to milk goats and make cheese?”

“Jimmy’s thirteen and plenty big enough to tackle this project by himself,” Caleb said. “Looks to me like he’s about to find out what running a goat dairy’s like.” He pulled Pony close as they walked toward the ranch house together. “Don’t worry. One way or the other, it’ll all work out. It always does.”

* * *

CHARLIE AND BADGER showed up just as Ramalda was ringing the dinner bell, and shortly after that another vehicle arrived and Joe got to meet Jessie Weaver and Guthrie Sloane, who were partners in the Bow and Arrow Ranch and lived a couple miles away in a cabin on Bear Creek. A good-sized crowd, but Ramalda and Pony handled the meal as if it were a common everyday occurrence. Joe supposed it probably was, if tonight’s Saturday barbecue was any indication of the typical menu served. He’d never seen so much food, and every bit of it was delicious. Lively banter flew around the tables, blow-by-blow descriptions of all the animals sold at the auction, talk about Molly and Steven’s wedding plans, the announcement of Molly’s pregnancy, which caused a happy babble of commotion, talk about the buffalo herd and talk about making a fortune in goat cheese. And when the boys found out Joe was a big-city cop, there was a moment of guilty silence and darting eyes followed by a barrage of cops-and-robbers questions.

“Let the man eat,” Pony said, putting another platter of ribs on the table. “Maybe if you’re really nice to him, he’ll come back and talk to you about what he does, but it’s not polite to talk with your mouth full.” She took the toddler from Molly’s lap. “You need to eat, too. I’ll feed Mary.”

“I’m in love with her,” Molly said, giving the little girl up reluctantly. “Is she staying?”

Pony shifted the toddler onto her hip and shook her head. “We don’t know. Her mother was hurt in a car accident and is in the hospital. Her father can’t take care of her. Mary is my nana’s sister’s great-granddaughter. I said I would watch her until her mother was well, but we don’t know if she will get well. She was badly injured.”

“Bring her over here, Pony,” Caleb said. “I’ll hold her while you sit and eat. You’ve been on your feet all day, which you wouldn’t have to be if you let me hire another cook to help Ramalda. The boys have cleanup detail, and Ramalda will ride herd on ’em. You rest and eat.”

Joe hadn’t eaten this much food since last November’s legendary Ferguson Thanksgiving. He was about to push his plate away when Ramalda marched over to the picnic table and added another scoop of spiced beans and a fresh hot buttered wedge of corn bread. “You’re too thin,” she said, scowling her disapproval. She picked up the platter of ribs and forked three more onto his plate. “You need much good food. Eat!”

“Don’t even think about arguing,” his sister cautioned. “You won’t win.”

* * *

MOLLY CLIMBED THE porch steps after supper, holding little Mary in her arms. She sat down beside Steven and Joe with a happy sigh and plopped the toddler in Steven’s lap. “I just love this place. Those boys are great. I only wish I had a fraction of their energy.”

“You have plenty of energy,” Steven said. “Any more and I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you.”

The sun had set, the twilight was thickening and cold air sank down from the high places. Steven had brought their coats from the car and Molly put hers on. “Did you get enough to eat, Joseph?” she teased, and Joe could only groan in response. Molly’s cell phone rang and she fished it out of her jacket pocket and answered with her usual brusque, “Ferguson,” listened for a few moments during which her expression changed from sublime to serious before she stood abruptly. “My God, Dani, are you all right?” A few more seconds passed. “And you have it in the car with you, and you’re driving and talking on a cell phone?...Okay, listen to me. Hang up. You’re almost to the ranch. I’ll tell Pony you’re coming. Roon and Jessie are here...Yes, yes, we’re all here. I wanted Joseph to see the place. Just drive safe, okay? Hang up and drive!” She ended the call and looked at Steven. “That was Dani. She’s pretty upset. She went hiking up Gunflint Mountain in the Arrow Roots earlier today and found the herd of wild horses she’s been photographing, but four of them had been shot. She rescued an orphaned baby horse. She somehow got it all the way down to her car, loaded it in with the dogs and is on her way here. She just drove through Katy Junction, so she’s about ten minutes out.”

Steven pushed to his feet and handed the baby back to her. “I’ll go tell Pony.”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SUNSET WAS spectacular but Dani was too distraught to appreciate it. Twilight thickened into dusk. The Subaru’s headlights illuminated the dirt road ahead. She glanced over her shoulder into the back of the vehicle, where the pale foal lay flat on her side as if dead. Maybe she was. Remmie lay beside her and Winchester was in the passenger seat. Both dogs were quiet and had been since she’d lifted the exhausted foal into the back of the station wagon. The walk down the mountain had seemed to take forever, one step at a time leading the wobbly foal, yet darkness was still only hovering on the far side of the mountains as she approached the Bow and Arrow. They’d made it to the ranch before full dark, something she hadn’t thought possible. If the foal was still alive, Jessie could save her. Dani knew the Bow and Arrow was her best chance for survival.

Dani passed the old cabin by the creek and headed for the ranch house. There were old kerosene storm lanterns hung in the barbecue area, illuminating the picnic tables in their soft light. In the gathering darkness she saw kids clearing away the supper dishes, the glow of coals and the slow lick of flames in the fire pit. She parked the Subaru and saw Molly coming down the porch steps toward her. She climbed out of the driver’s seat and the words rushed out of her, fueled by relief and adrenaline.

“Molly! I’m so glad you’re here. The foal’s in the back of the Subaru. I don’t even know if she’s still alive. She was just born when I found her and it was such a struggle getting her down the mountain. Where’s Pony? Is Jessie around? The poor thing hasn’t eaten and she had to walk all the way down to the car and she’s so weak. I had the heater blasting to keep her warm but...”

“It’s okay, you’re here now, you’re safe,” Molly said, giving her friend a reassuring hug. She peered in the back, the interior light providing illumination. “Wow, she’s so little. I think she just blinked—she can’t be dead. Roon and Jessie are down at the barn. Steven went to get them. Come with me, Dani. Sit down before you fall down.” Molly’s arm slipped around her waist and she was guided up the porch steps. “Sit,” she repeated. “We’ll take it from here. I’ll ask Ramalda to fix you a plate of food.”

Dani sat. She’d begun to shake all over, not from the cold but from the relief of making it to the ranch and the release of her adrenaline. Molly vanished inside the kitchen and it was then that Dani saw the troops coming up from the barn. Steven was among them, and Roon and Pony and Jessie. Jessie was carrying her medical bag, and they all paused at the Subaru. Dani watched as the foal was lifted from the back of the car into Roon’s arms. She was as limp as a rag doll. “Bring her in the kitchen—it’s warm in there,” she heard Pony say. If they were bringing the foal into the kitchen, then she was alive.

Dani felt her eyes flood with tears. “Thank God,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of her,” Jessie said as she climbed the steps, pausing to squeeze Dani’s shoulder. “You did a great job bringing her here. Do you know if she nursed at all before the mare died?”

Dani shook her head and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I think she was born just before I got there. Her coat was still wet. I got some of the mare’s milk, though. It’s in my water bottle on the front seat of the car.”

“Excellent,” Jessie said. “Colostrum could make all the difference. How did you know to do that?”

“I grew up on a dairy farm,” Dani said. “All the newborn calves had to get colostrum.”

Once they had all tramped inside the kitchen with the foal, Dani leaned forward and rested her head in her hands, overwhelmed with exhaustion and turbulent emotions. She drew a shuddering breath. The screen door banged and she heard Molly’s voice. “Here. I brought you a mug of coffee with a shot of whiskey in it. I know you don’t like whiskey but sip it. Slowly. Drink all of it. That’s an order. I’ll bring you a plate of food.”

“I’m not hungry,” Dani murmured into her hands, not lifting her head. “All those dead horses... Custer’s dead, too. Who would have done this?”

“Joseph? Make sure she drinks this. She’s in shock.”

Dani lifted her head, and for the first time noticed the man sitting in the shadows, not four feet from her, sharing the same wall bench.

She sat up, startled. “I didn’t see you.”

“I’ll take care of her, Molly. You go check on the patient,” came Joe’s deep voice.

Dani wiped her cheeks and drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly, struggling to get her emotions under control. Joe moved closer on the bench. She saw the reflection of lamplight on the mug he held out to her and took it from him. “Thanks.” She raised the coffee to her nose and the fumes made her eyes water. She took a tiny sip and felt the slow burn head south. “Awful,” she gasped.

“Medicinal,” Joe said. “You need it right now. What happened?”

“I went to photograph Custer’s herd and he was dead, along with three of his mares. All shot, probably late yesterday or early this morning. There’s good tracking snow in the higher spots, and on the road where I parked my car the boot tracks and tire tracks were clear in the mud.”

“Who do you call around here to report something like that?”

Dani drew a steadying breath. “We’ll notify Sheriff Conroy, and Ben Comstock’s the warden in these parts. Jessie knows him well. He’ll probably be the one to check it out.” She took another tiny sip of the fiery coffee. “There’s a big controversy over the wild horses on public lands. The ranchers who pay lease money to run their animals on the lands consider the horses an invasive species that steal the grass and water from their cattle.”

“So, by their own measure, their cattle are also an invasive species?”

Dani’s laugh was humorless. “Depends on your perspective. Anyhow, I doubt that little foal will live.” She stretched out her legs and winced from the pain. “I stashed all my photographic equipment by the side of the trail and my camping gear’s still up at the cabin. I’ll go back and get it all tomorrow. I don’t have the strength tonight and I seriously doubt anyone’ll be up there. It’s off-limits to motorized vehicles and not many people want to hike that far to camp.”

“Any idea who might have shot the horses?”

Dani rubbed a cramp in her thigh and took another tiny sip of coffee. “Hard to say. A rancher, maybe. Legally, the horses are protected as long as they’re on public lands, and Custer’s band was in a part of the national forest, but sometimes they stray. It’s tough to teach horses boundaries when they can’t read. Drought years are hard—they gravitate toward water and that’s usually a water source protected by a rancher. Even the water and graze on BLM lands is hotly contested. The situation can get really ugly. The government holds roundups yearly on public lands to keep the wild horse population in control, but a lot of ranchers don’t think that’s enough and want them all gone. Anyhow, my guess is, with the lack of snow this past winter, ranchers are already worried about the graze and water supplies. Any unbranded horse that strays off public lands is in danger, but this shooting was on public lands. Maybe a preemptive strike? They’re legally protected by the Wild Horse Act, but that’s in a perfect world, right?”

She heard a wry laugh in the darkness. “Right.”

“Jessie Weaver’s family owned these lands for generations, and let the wild horses run on them. She has some of the best bloodlines of pure Spanish mustangs, right here on this ranch. I met her through Molly but I actually heard about her before that through the Wild Horse Rescue. She’s legendary.” The whiskey made her stomach burn but Molly was right; she was feeling stronger. “She’s not only legendary, she’s really nice. She spoke at the Wild Horse Foundation meeting last fall, and she donates her time and experience to the Pryor herd during roundups. If anyone can save that little foal, Jessie can.”

“If she lives, what’s in her future?”

Dani took another sip. The whiskey didn’t taste so bad now. “I don’t have a clue. Do you want to adopt a wild horse?”

“I doubt she would be happy in a big city.”

“Are you?”

“The city’s all I’ve ever known, except for a four-year stint in the military before joining the police department. And I guess guns and violence are the sum of my life experience.”

“So you get shot up back east and come to the Wild West for some rest only to discover we have guns and violence, too. But really, Montana’s great. I love it here.”

“So does Molly.”

At that moment, Molly reappeared from the kitchen carrying a plate of food and a napkin rolled around silverware. “Ramalda won’t let you leave without eating this first. And you’re coming home with us tonight. You can leave your car here and we’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

“I can drive my car to your place, but I have Remington and Winchester, and your brother’s staying at your house.”

“We have three bedrooms, and your dogs are welcome, you know that. We even have a fenced yard. Besides, Joseph might be staying here. Now clean that plate before Ramalda comes out to check on you. That baby horse is alive because of you and Jessie’s going to feed her through a tube into her stomach when it’s warmed up enough. She’s going to teach Roon to do it, too. But she says it’s best to find her a foster mother, so she’s going to make a bunch of phone calls once she’s finished feeding her. Caleb’s already reported the shooting to Ben Comstock and Sheriff Conroy, and Comstock said he’d go up there to check it out first thing in the morning.”

“I’d like to go along,” Joe said.

“That’s too much climbing, Joseph,” Molly said. “You’re supposed to be recuperating.”

“I’ve had enough bed rest to last me the rest of my life. I need the exercise and I’d like to scope out the crime scene. I’m not staying here tonight. There’s no need of it.”

Dani set the coffee down between them. She wondered why Molly thought Joe might be staying at the Bow and Arrow, but the food in her lap smelled good, and she suddenly realized she was starving. Ravenous. She unrolled her silverware from the napkin. “You can come with me tomorrow morning, if you want, Joe. I have to get my camera and camping equipment. It’s not a tough hike if we take our time. We’ll bring some bear spray.”

“Bear spray?” Joe said.

Dani picked up a rib. “The Arrow Roots are grizzly country and they love fresh horse meat. I saw some mighty big bear tracks today.”

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