The Loop (47 page)

Many of the pro-Harding placards seemed to have been penned by the same hand or at least by hands similarly tutored, for the word
federal
was consistently spelled
fedral
, except on one where the
d
was missing too. WOLVES = FERAL TERRORISM, it proclaimed. Dan couldn’t decide if it was a mistake or represented some new, esoteric line of thought.

Abe had arrived that first morning like a celebrity who’d left his charisma at home. Still valiantly lawyerless, he had been chauffered to court - and no doubt coached all the way - by star defense witness, Buck Calder. Abe stood on the court steps, flanked by his grinning sons, and grimly repeated over and over again through tobacco-stained teeth to every question that he was an American citizen (which no one had doubted) and that he was here this day to defend his ‘alienable rights’ to Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Wolves.

Perhaps to indicate that the second of these rights might indeed prove alienable, federal judge Willis Watkins had urged Abe to reconsider both his plea of not guilty and his decision not to be represented by an attorney. But Abe would have none of it. It was a matter of principle, he insisted. As a result, twelve patient Montanans had sat through three days of tedium and testimony, waiting to reach a conclusion that only Abe’s most diehard fans could fail to deem foregone.

Dan and Helen had given evidence the previous morning and were then cross-examined by Abe in a style that was staccato and surreal. He gave Dan the easier ride, shuffling through several high stacks of notes and leaving such epic pauses that twice Willis Watkins intervened to ask if he’d finished. His first question to Helen was whether, like he, she had fought for her country in Vietnam. When she pointed out that she had only just been born when the war ended, he gave a loud
Aha!
of triumph, as if the point were proven.

He seemed to be under the impression that Helen had personally released the Hope wolves as part of a secret government program, whose purpose was to breed and train wolves to eat cattle so that ranchers went out of business and the government could grab their land. He tried to get her to admit that he’d caught her snooping on his property, carrying out a clandestine survey with that intent. He suggested to her that she was an ‘interfering bitch’ and got himself a stern rebuke from the bench. Helen handled it all with polite restraint and a face as straight as a marine on parade.

Buck Calder did his best to put a shine on Abe’s breastplate, testifying to the man’s ranching prowess, neighborliness and generally fine character. But Abe was beyond help. Declining to take the stand himself, he proudly declared in his final speech to the jury that he had deliberately killed the wolf, knowing it to be one. Which was pretty well all the prosecution had to show. He wound up by saying his only regret was that he hadn’t killed the other wolf he’d seen and maybe a few bunny-huggers too. If it was a joke, it didn’t go down too well with Judge Watkins.

The streetlights were coming on outside now and Dan saw two more demonstrators had lowered their placards, long illegible with sleet. They were calling it a day.

‘Dan!’

He looked around and saw Helen hurrying down the corridor toward him.

‘The jury’s coming back in,’ she said.

It didn’t take long.

Abe Harding was found guilty on all counts. No one gasped or shouted or sobbed. A few supporters muttered and shook their heads. Abe stared steadily at the ceiling while Willis Watkins berated him in measured tones for wasting many thousands of dollars of taxpayers’ money. Sentencing would come later, said the judge, pending reports. He left the court in no doubt however that Abe faced several months in jail and probably a substantial fine as well.

Wes and Ethan Harding turned and glared venomously at Helen but either she didn’t notice or pretended not to.

‘Let’s go get a drink,’ she quietly said to Dan.

They got out of the building fast but not quite fast enough to avoid the media gang that had miraculously rallied in the short time since the verdict. TV crews were busy canvassing reaction from the sleet-sodden demonstrators and their drier, less devoted brethren who had materialized from their cars to join them.

‘Mr Prior? Mr Prior?’ a woman’s voice called out.

It was Buck Calder’s favorite TV reporter.

‘Just ignore her,’ Helen said.

But the woman caught up, only steps ahead of her cameraman. Dan could see from the little red light on the camera that he was already being taped. To be seen ducking and running on the local news never looked good. He stopped and smiled warmly, hoping but doubting that Helen was doing the same.

‘I was wondering,’ the woman panted. ‘How do you feel about the verdict?’

‘Well, justice, I believe, was done. But it’s not a happy day for anyone, humans or wolves.’

‘Do you think Abe Harding should go to jail?’

‘Fortunately, that’s not for me to decide.’

The woman shoved her microphone in front of Helen now.

‘What about you Miss Ross? Don’t you think a man’s got the right to defend his own cattle?’

‘I’d rather not comment,’ Helen said.

‘Should he go to jail?’

‘I’d really rather not comment.’

‘How did you feel when he called you an “interfering bitch”?’

‘How do you feel when people call you one?’

Dan intervened. ‘We’ve got to go now. Thank you very much.’

He steered Helen off through the crowd.

‘Why don’t you get yourself a proper job?’ someone yelled. Dan recognized the camouflage cap of the Waco poster man.

‘Hey, buddy, if you’re hiring, I’m available.’

‘Wouldn’t hire you to wipe my ass.’

‘Lucky you only use it for talking then,’ Helen said quietly, without looking at him. But Dan could see the guy heard.

They got clear of the crowd before either of them spoke again.

‘Who the hell is that?’ Dan said.

‘One of my logger buddies. Works for the post and pole company. We share reflective moments together in the forest.’

They both had cars and drove separately to a bar Dan thought none of the Harding supporters would be likely to choose for drowning their collective sorrows. Everything the place served was organically grown, from the corn chips to the beer, and the clientele were mainly students, vegetarians or both. The music was strictly New Age and there wasn’t an antlered head to be seen anywhere on the walls.

They found a booth and ordered two wheat-beers on tap, from which Dan had to fish a large chunk of lemon. He could never understand why they put it in.

‘Has Luke heard back from the university?’ he asked.

‘Not yet. He sent them this great paper about the GIS work he’s been doing.’

‘They’ll take him okay.’

‘Yeah. All he has to do is tell his father.’

‘You’re kidding. He hasn’t told him yet?’

‘Nope.’

Helen took a drink.

‘You know, I can almost have a drink now without wanting a cigarette.’

‘How long since you quit?’

‘Four months.’

‘That’s pretty good.’

They were silent for a moment or two. Dan was wondering how best to broach a tricky subject that he’d been putting off mentioning for several weeks now. He took a long draught of beer and put down his glass.

‘Helen, there’s something I have to tell you.’

‘Going to fire me? It’s okay, I quit.’

He smiled. ‘No.’ He paused. ‘It’s just that we’ve been getting these calls at the office.’

She frowned.

‘It sounds like a different person each time and they never give their names and I’m sure it’s just somebody trying to stir some shit on account of this Abe Harding business, and frankly, I—’

‘Dan, for Godsake, will you stop blathering and tell me?’

‘It’s not easy, okay? It’s about Luke.’

He saw her stiffen slightly.

‘What about him?’

‘Well, I know he has to spend a lot of time up at the cabin, what with all the night-tracking and stuff you have to do. And that sometimes he has to stay over. But some folks are clearly getting, well, you know, the wrong idea.’

‘Oh. And what might that wrong idea be?’

‘Come on, Helen. You know what I’m saying.’

‘I’m sorry, I really don’t.’

Dan was starting to lose patience.

‘Okay, I’ll spell it out. They’re saying you and Luke are having . . . some kind of affair or something.’

‘Or something?’

Dan looked away and cursed under his breath.

‘And you want me to tell you if it’s true or not?’

‘No,’ he lied. ‘You know damn well that’s not what I’m saying.’

His cell phone started to ring.

‘Shit.’

He rummaged for it and tugged it out of his coat pocket. The call was from Bill Rimmer. Some wolves had killed three calves near Boulder, he said. The rancher, who Dan knew well, was spitting blood. Bill said it was important that Dan come at once to try and calm things down.

‘Helen, I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.’

‘Fine.’

She watched him put on his coat and finish his beer. He felt mean and guilty over what he’d said.

‘I’ll call you in the morning.’

‘Fine. I’m going to have another beer.’

‘I’m sorry. I got that all wrong.’

‘Hey, no problem.’

He turned to go and as he stepped away she called his name. He stopped and looked back at her. She looked hurt; and beautiful.

‘In case you’re wondering,’ she said. ‘It is.’

‘What?’

‘True.’

He drove to Boulder with his head whirring and his heart sinking slowly to his stomach.

 

Helen was at the bottom of her second beer and thinking about a third when she heard the voice behind her.

‘Sure is a sorry thing when a pretty woman has to celebrate on her own.’

That’s all I need, she thought. She turned and saw Buck Calder standing by the booth, leering down at her. There was snow on his hat and the shoulders of his jacket.

‘Why should I be celebrating?’

‘You got the verdict. Old Abe looks like he’s going down for awhile. I figure that’s what you wanted.’

Helen shook her head and looked away.

‘Mind if I join you?’

‘Mind if I ask what you’re doing in here?’

‘Well, I was heading home and I saw your pickup parked out there and thought I’d stop and say hi.’

‘Oh. Well. Hi.’

The waitress appeared and Buck ordered two wheat-beers.

‘Thanks, Mr Calder, but—’

‘Buck.’

‘Yeah, well, anyway. Thanks, but I ought to be going.’

He turned to the waitress. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart. Bring two. I’ll drink them both.’

He eased himself onto the bench on the other side of the booth. Helen warned herself to go easy. However much she might dislike the man, he was Luke’s father. To upset him wouldn’t be good for either of them.

‘I wanted to talk about Luke,’ he said.

Helen gave a little laugh. Here we go again, she thought.

‘Why do you laugh?’

‘Oh. Nothing.’

He looked at her for a moment, with a faintly knowing smile.

‘I want you to know, whatever idle tongues may be wagging—’

‘Mr Calder—’

‘Buck.’

‘Buck. I really don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.’

The waitress arrived with the beers. He thanked her and waited for her to leave before he went on.

‘What I wanted to say was, just how grateful Eleanor and I are for all you’ve done for the boy, letting him work with you and all. Of course, it means we don’t see to much of him right now, and I have to say, I’m going to need him around now we’re getting into calving, which I hope you’ll understand. ’

Helen nodded.

‘But his mother was only saying the other night that she’s never seen the boy so happy. He seems at last to have grown up a little. Even his stutter seems to have gotten better. So, thank you.’

He took a drink. Helen didn’t know what to say. As usual, the guy had taken her by surprise. Perhaps she should curb her natural urge to flee and instead, while the going was good, broach the subject of Luke going to college.

‘You handled yourself real well, up there on the stand,’ he said.

Helen shrugged and smiled.

‘No, I mean it. You were impressive.’

‘Thank you. So were you.’

He nodded graciously. Neither of them spoke for a moment. The music they were playing was that stuff they made for insomniacs, a soothing blend of electronic waves and the moan of killer whales. It always made Helen feel edgy.

‘You know, I reckon if you and I hadn’t gotten off on the wrong foot, we might have been friends.’

‘Hey, we’re friends. As far as I’m concerned.’

‘Okay, then. More than friends.’

She pretended to look puzzled. He gave her a slow smile. Then he reached beneath the table and put his hand on her leg. Helen took a deep breath and stood up.

‘I’m sorry. I’m going home.’

She put her coat on and got some money from her bag to pay for the drinks. He was sitting back watching her, smiling, totally unfazed. He was just making fun of her. She thought about throwing the untouched glass of beer over him and only narrowly decided against.

‘Bye,’ she said and walked away.

It was snowing hard. Hurrying across the parking lot, she slipped and nearly fell. She was so shaken and angry that it took her a long time to find her car keys. How
dare
he? She wanted to kill him.

As she put the key in the door, she felt a hand on her shoulder and gave a little yelp of fright.

He turned her around and took hold of her arms below the elbows, pinning her against the truck.

‘Why settle for a boy when you can have a man?’ he said.