“Russian mob,” I said. “And I think the helicopter was navy blue, not black.”
Sam took this disappointing news gracefully. “Well, I suppose that’s almost as good.”
I was still in a mild state of shock. “You…you shot down the helicopter?”
“Naw. Jack did. Got her good, didn’t he? Tell you what. Them old Soviet shoulder-mounted SA-14’s work pretty good.”
“What else you got in those bunkers, Sam? Nuclear weapons?” He laughed. “They’re too much trouble. Did you know a nuke degrades in ten years?”
I honestly didn’t know that and said so while Sam kept laughing.
Jeanette slid down beside me and I helped her to her feet. She said, “Thank you, Sam. You saved us.”
Sam took off his hat as Carl and Jack climbed out of the armored car. They took off their hats, too. “Happy to help a neighbor, Jeanette,” Sam said.
Ray, Amelia, Laura, Brian, and Philip slid down the muddy slope, too. Amelia got up and hugged Sam and his boys. Hell, I felt like hugging those survivalist bastards, too.
Jeanette put her hand on my shoulder and leaned against me. “Thanks, cowboy,” she said. “What do we do now?”
I was reminded of something old Bill Coulter used to say. When you get to where you’re going, it’s probably time to stop.
“Let’s go home,” I said, and after Ray and I gently wrapped Tanya in a sleeping bag and placed her in our truck, that’s what we did.
One Year Later…
I am writing on my patio beneath the awning attached to my trailer. Beside me on a small round table is a g&t. Before me is the land of the Square C and above me is the big sky of Montana. In short, I am in a perfect spot. Right where I want to be. It is time to be thankful and a time to move past mourning to what lies ahead. It is also a time to recall what happened after the events on Blackie Butte.
I am still cowboying and Jeanette is still my boss. Work never ends on the Square C and, after a few days of dealing with the authorities after the events out there on the Hell Creek Formation, Jeanette, Ray, and I had to bring in our wheat and hay. This we did and continued the life of the rancher through the seasons, the same things every year, only with different problems.
Jeanette is as unchanging as the land. She is still the most competent and courageous woman I’ve ever known. Yes, I still love her. She knows that, of course. She also knows that Tanya will forever have a place in my heart. Whether she cares about that, or whether she ever intends to express any feelings for me, I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it. For some reason, I feel content with that.
Ray and Amelia are now preparing to go off to college. Both chose Montana State University in Bozeman. Ray will major in ag business and Amelia in paleontology. They are going to do well. Whether they will end up together, I can’t say. They’re eager to start their studies and they seem very happy together. I guess, with teenagers, that’s the best anyone can ask. Jeanette is going to really miss Ray and so am I. We had a family, whether we knew it or not. I guess we still do only we’re getting to be an empty nest, not counting the cows, of course.
Speaking of family, Superdog survived. Cade Morgan winged him in the hip but, though he bled a great deal, he hung onto life until we returned. We opened up the surgery immediately and Jeanette removed the bullet. Ray and I assisted. Soupy is fine now, though I think his hip hurts when there’s bad weather on the way. I love that dog. Lucky for old Delbert, he was out on the Mulhaden pasture when Cade and the Russians swept through on the way to Blackie Butte. When Cade said he’d shot Soupy, I didn’t think to ask whether he’d also shot Delbert. I guess my excuse is I was a little distracted at the time.
As might be imagined, there was a lot to explain concerning all that happened on Blackie Butte. The Haxbys suggested that we bury all the bodies and bulldoze the helicopter into a coulee, then go about our business. Tempting as that prospect was, Jeanette decided to call in the authorities. This did not prove all that easy. She phoned the state police in Billings and they took it as a crank call. We finally had to get Frank Torgerson to call, explaining that his mortuary had a number of corpses he didn’t know what to do with.
The state sent Trooper Philpot, the same youngster who had come up to investigate Toby’s murder. He stopped in at the mortuary where Frank showed him the bodies and went over the various wounds. Trooper Philpot instantly decided all this might be above his pay grade, turned around and drove back to Billings and convinced his superiors that the FBI should be called.
The Feds were unimpressed by the call from the Montana State Police but finally deigned to send an agent from Salt Lake City to check all this nonsense out. His name was Agent Tim Conway who reminded me a bit of the comedian of the same name. I met ol’ Tim at the mortuary, then drove him out to Blackie Butte. Laura and Pick were still there, guarding the bones of the mama T and patching up the jacketed bones that were damaged in the helicopter crash. Of course, Pick wanted to remove all the dino bones at the first opportunity, but Jeanette insisted that they remain where they were until we got everything settled. I went out and helped Pick and Laura construct a cover for the mama T, which we otherwise left as we found it. Even the skull protruding from the mud was left until it could be carefully moved and jacketed.