Ted Brescoe was found floating in Fort Peck Lake by fishermen. After Edith had killed him, and perhaps recalling how Toby had floated, Cade had dumped Ted with twelve feet of logging chains wrapped around him, but failed to take into account the internal gas bodies tend to produce. The resulting buoyancy bobbed Ted to the surface in just a few days.
Ted and Edith were buried side by side in the Jericho cemetery. The locals thought that was punishment enough for both of them. The BLM had a new man in Ted’s position in just a couple of weeks. He’s another Brescoe, this one a graduate in land management from the University of Montana. Seems like a nice guy. I heard he bought a round of beer for everybody the other night in the Hell Creek Bar. It’s a start.
Cade Morgan’s body with the mama T’s tooth removed, went with the Russians and is probably in a federal freezer somewhere. His property went up for sale. Joe the bartender told me the buyer was someone from Alabama, but he hasn’t shown up yet. Anyway, we expect him to be a good neighbor, whoever he is. After we educate him in our ways, of course.
It is illegal to bury someone on a Montana ranch even with all of our thousands of square miles of prairie. So after I did due diligence in searching out Tanya’s family, and finding none, I had her cremated and buried beside the little baby pioneer Nanette Mulhaden. I planted wildflowers around their graves and visit them often. I think Nanette and Tanya will have much to talk about across deep time. Eventually, if I have my way, I’ll join them there.
But, for now, here I am on the Square C, the top and only hired hand of the queen of the prairie. I’ll finish my g&t and then crawl into my bunk. Or maybe I’ll just stay where I am and breathe in the summer aroma of the Square C, which is manure, wildflowers, dust, and fresh-cut hay. When I look up, a ribbon of stars endlessly unwinds, the edge of our galaxy lying on the ebony blanket of the universe. If I watch for only a little while, I’ll see a satellite speed across the sky or perhaps a meteor will break into the atmosphere, throwing yellow sparks behind.
A silence envelops the land except for the occasional low moo of one of our cows talking to her calf, or the yip of a passing coyote, and the following snort of Nick catching its scent. The coyote will keep going. It knows Superdog is probably already coming after it.
Now, here come Rage and Fury, finished with their day of mousing and wanting to get some strokes for their labors. I’ll happily give them and then surprise them later with some crunchy snacks from a bag of store-bought cat food I’ve got hidden away. It is always good to keep your cats happy.
I smile, stretch, have another drink of g&t. Life is the way I like it right now. Sure, storms will come. They always do but I’ll handle them. That’s what we do out here. That’s what we expect. That’s where we live.
Montana.