Chapter 62 Red
When Red reached the top of the slide, he stopped to catch his breath and look back at the canyon. What had been the clear-running Madison and forested Rock Creek Campground was a mountain of debris and flattened timber. Drowning treetops jutted from the dark surface of the rapidly filling lake.
He had reached the summit without finding any evidence of Jenny, and the torturous pain in his chest subsided to a dull ache.
He could still hope.
The helicopter that had taken Claire and Beth buzzed over his head on another sortie into the canyon.
He turned around, surveying the scene on the Madison Valley side of the disaster.
At the bottom of the landslide, the highway to Ennis resumed abruptly out of the rubble.
A half dozen cars were parked along what had been the Madison River, but was now a waterless, muddy ditch.
Suddenly, the boulders beneath his boots shifted and the landslide trembled.
He crouched low as rubble dislodged and tumbled downward.
Below, he could see trees shivering. The echo of rockfall died away as the earth steadied under him.
The aftershocks were a little like riding an unbroken horse—made it tricky to stay in the saddle—and he’d be glad when the mountain stopped bucking.
He picked his way down the slope toward the waiting cars, his head pounding and his mouth dry as dust. He couldn’t remember when he’d eaten last, or had a drink of water, but none of that mattered until he found Jenny.
When he got to the base of the slide the first person he saw was Lem Garrison.
Red didn’t bother with niceties as he approached the superintendent of Yellowstone National Park standing next to a dark sedan. “I’m looking for my little girl.” Red’s voice cracked. “I need to get to Ennis.”
Lem’s brows went up, but he didn’t hesitate. “Get in, Red.”
Red slid into the sedan and Garrison pulled around to head west at a speed well above the limit. Without taking his eyes off the road, he passed Red a canteen. “You were in the canyon during the quake?”
Red drained the canteen, the tepid water soothing his tight throat. “Rode in from Sunnyslope,” he answered. “My wife was—” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. “My wife and daughter were at Rock Creek.”
Garrison glanced over. His grim expression showed he knew what happened at the campground. “I’m sorry, Red,” he said. “Is she . . . ?”
“No,” Red answered quickly. “Claire made it out on the first helicopter,” he said. “But we didn’t find Jenny.” He blinked, his eyes suddenly stung with grit. “She’s only four months old.”
Garrison didn’t respond with platitudes and Red appreciated that. They both knew the chances of a baby surviving where grown men and women had perished. Garrison navigated around a crevice in the road and let the silence stretch.
As they gained speed again, his brows came down. “You rode into Rock Creek from Sunnyslope? With those aftershocks?”
“I had a good horse.” Red had left Marigold and Flick in the care of the kid, Lance.
Told him they belonged to Wormsbecker and to see if he could get them back when—if—the roads opened up.
“Claire was down there, and with the phones out, nobody knew if the dam was holding. I thought I could warn the campgrounds, but—” He swallowed the lump of regret. “I was too late for Rock Creek.”
Garrison gave him a long, appraising look.
The water had revived Red, and now he had his own question. “Why aren’t you in Yellowstone?” There had to have been some damage in the park and Lem Garrison was in charge of the whole two million acres.
Garrison grimaced. “We were visiting my in-laws in Ennis. I’m stuck here until I can get a helicopter. They’re all tied up with the rescue operation.” He went on the shoulder to get around a boulder sitting in the middle of the road. “Figured I might as well help out.”
“Do you think people are hurt in the park?” Red asked. If the damage at Rock Creek was anything to go by, there could be hundreds—maybe thousands—of injured.
Garrison shook his head. “We got radio reports from my people there. Nobody was seriously injured that they know of, thank God. The dining room ceiling of Old Faithful collapsed, and the fireplace in the lobby sustained some damage.” Garrison glanced over at him.
“Plenty of tourists putting up a fuss, and a few of the geysers aren’t so happy either, erupting all over the park.
The scientists are going to be busy for months. ”
They rode in silence again and Red thought about how he’d dreaded talking to Garrison enough to take off to Libby, just to find him waiting when he got out of the canyon. Was it bad luck, or a nudge from God to come clean about Dell?
“Red,” Garrison said before Red decided, “when you applied for the job at the park, I asked around about you.”
Red felt a knot tighten in his gut.
“Grew up an orphan, petty crimes. Time spent in jail.”
Red felt about two inches tall. Garrison was somebody he admired. After the lies Pete Henshaw spewed—and knowing Red’s past—of course the superintendent pegged him as the crook smuggling sheds out of the park. Was it even worth it for Red to tell him who the real culprit was?
Garrison glanced over at him and Red couldn’t figure out his expression. “When you came to talk to me about the job, I was impressed.”
Red didn’t let himself feel any satisfaction. After that interview, he’d fallen for Dell’s scheme and his chances at the job had gone down the drain.
“The thing is,” Garrison went on, “I couldn’t figure out why you took the blame for Henshaw.”
Red twisted around to stare at Garrison, surprise rendering him momentarily speechless.
“I’ve been around the block a few times,” Garrison answered his surprised look.
He gave his attention to the road as they hit a shredded stretch of asphalt, slowing down just enough to keep the car under control.
“I figured it was Henshaw—and he probably was working with somebody—but didn’t have any proof.
And you didn’t point your finger at him to save yourself.
” Garrison looked over at him, and he thought maybe he saw respect in the older man’s gaze.
Red felt his neck heat. Respect from Lem Garrison wasn’t what he’d expected.
“Then,” Garrison went on in a somber voice, “the poor kid drowned in the Yellowstone, and a raft of sheds washed up downriver. I figured he’d tried it again and this time he didn’t get so lucky.”
Now Red wasn’t following. “Then why were you looking for me?”
A wrinkle creased Garrison’s forehead. “I was hoping you had an idea who put Dell up to it. There’s a lot of illegal elk sheds being sold up in Bozeman, and I aim to figure out who was paying Dell for a raft of sheds that got him killed.”
Red’s breath loosened in his chest. Garrison wasn’t looking to lock him up, and maybe he could get justice for Dell.
“There’s a blue Cadillac at the bottom of a scarp on Hebgen Lake Road,” Red said.
“The trunk is full of sheds.” When Garrison checked the license plate, he’d find David Endicott’s name and address and it wouldn’t take much digging to figure out that Endicott had a side business in Bozeman selling elk antlers.
Garrison’s brows went up and he nodded. “Red, after all this”—he lifted a hand to indicate the damage on the road—“you come talk to me.”
“I told you all I know.”
“I mean about that job,” Garrison said. “I knew I was right about you—and a man with the guts and skill to ride into that canyon in the middle of a quake is somebody I want working for me.”
Red didn’t trust his voice to speak so he gave a nod in response.
He should have been man enough to face Lem Garrison right after Dell’s death, instead of running off to Libby.
If he had, Jenny would be safe at home and Claire wouldn’t have endured that night in the water.
But what-ifs and should-haves didn’t help with the right now.
Finally, Garrison pulled into the parking lot in front of a sprawling brick building with an American flag flying on a tall pole.
Ambulances and police cars lined the curb.
Nurses helped the injured through the door, and uniformed Army carted supplies.
Red felt the urgency return to his limbs and had the door open before the car was fully stopped.
“Red?” Garrison said as Red climbed out. “I’ll be praying for your little girl.”
Red pushed through the doors of Ennis High School to find it wall-to-wall with anxious-eyed men, women, and children.
“Please, everyone.” A woman wearing a light blue dress with a red cross on the pocket held up her hands in front of a set of double doors. “We understand you’re looking for your loved ones. Please make an orderly line.”
Red moved toward the line, then jerked to a stop.
Pete Henshaw, head and shoulders above the crowd, was just a few feet in front of him.
Red sidestepped into a hallway before Pete spotted him.
He didn’t want any kind of altercation with Pete, not until he’d found Jenny.
But Beth was here, and he didn’t want Pete to find her—or Claire.
Who knew what a man like Pete would do, even in the middle of a crowd.
He headed down a side hallway, looking into the open classroom doors for somebody to ask about a baby without Pete catching sight of him.
“Red.”
He stopped and turned back at the sound of his name.
Father Donahue, dressed in black with his white clerical collar, poked his head through a doorway. “What are you doing here?”
Red ducked into the room. “I’m looking for Jenny.” He explained in as few words as possible about Claire and Beth and how they ended up at Rock Creek and why he didn’t want to run into Pete Henshaw. “Who would know if a baby came in on one of the transports out of the canyon?”
“The Red Cross supervising nurse is our best bet.” Father Donahue grabbed Red by the elbow and steered him out the door and down the hallway. “Claire and Beth are probably in the gymnasium here.” He stopped at a closed door. “You warn Beth. I’ll track down the nurse and ask about Jenny.”
Red nodded and opened the door.
The cavernous gymnasium was a clamor of noise. Rows of cots lined up on the basketball court held the injured. Doctors and nurses hurried between them. Two National Guard soldiers bumped past him with a man on a stretcher, his eyes closed and his face streaked with dried blood.
He found Claire and Beth underneath the basketball hoop. They were scrubbed clean and in fresh clothing. Beth lay on a cot with a needle in her arm and a glass bottle of clear liquid hanging on a stand beside her. Her other arm was in a sling. Claire sat on the cot next to her.
When she saw Red, Claire flew to him, alarm in her eyes. “I’ve been asking the nurses about Jenny, but it’s so chaotic no one has been able to answer me.”
He held her tight. He’d never have enough of holding her in his arms. “I ran into Father Donahue. He’s asking the Red Cross.” He hurried her back to Beth. “Is she okay?”
Claire nodded. “The doctor said Beth’s fine, and so is the baby.”
That was a relief, but he had to tell them the bad news. He lowered his voice. “Pete Henshaw is here.”
Beth started with alarm.
“He can’t do anything here,” Red said. “You’re safe.” He hoped it was the truth. Pete Henshaw could bluster all he liked, but he couldn’t take Beth against her will with so many people around.
“Red.” Father Donahue veered through the cots with a frazzled-looking nurse in his wake. His brows were pulled down in a way Red didn’t like. “Nurse Westly says she took in a baby early this morning, a little girl.”
Red turned to the woman, his hope soaring.
“Where is she?” Claire rushed forward. “How was she—was she alright?”
“A Forest Service ranger brought her in this morning,” the nurse answered quickly. “He said he’d been at Rock Creek and walked out over the slide during the night.”
It had to be Jenny. There couldn’t have been more than one baby brought out of the campground alone. Relief coursed through him and he took Claire’s hand in his. Thank you, Lord.
The nurse looked uncertainly from Red to Claire. “She was in good health . . .”
Red’s brows came down. He didn’t like the way the nurse said was. From the look on Claire’s face, she didn’t like it either. “Where is she now?” he demanded.
The nurse swallowed and took a step back. “Like I told Father . . .” She stuttered a little. “I-I sent her home with her grandmother.”
“With who?” Claire’s voice rose and her grip on Red’s hand tightened.
“Her grandmother,” the nurse said again. “Just a few minutes ago.”
“What did she look like?” Red ground out, his heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest.
“She was frail-looking, a streak of gray in her hair. She seemed perfectly harmless.” She looked from Red to Claire, her face pale. “It wasn’t more than five minutes ago.”
Claire met his gaze and he could see the same emotions he was feeling flash across her face—disbelief, confusion . . . and fear.
The Henshaws had taken their little girl.