The Benefactor Read online

  Joan smiled from a haggard face, “Ted, how do you keep predators like mountain cats from killing off your herd?”

  Ted said, “Good question. While the bison have poor eyesight, they have keen senses of smell and hearing, so they pick up on threats. Their heft and horns take it from there. We sell off the older bison in the herd well before they’re old or infirm, so the herd is a formidable lot.

  "Most folks don’t know that female bison have horns, too. Of course, we have to watch out for the young bison.”

  Cody laughed, “Here I was thinking you had an all male herd …”

  Joan smiled and went on, “I’m always about business, Ted. How big is your herd? I’m just curious.”

  Ted had an inappropriately big grin on his face, “Andy, how about that?”

  All eyes went to Andy.

  Andy paused for drama. His sparkling eyes belied the deadpan delivery: “70!”

  Ted and June roared. Andy tried to restrain his triumphal expression. Cody and Joan smiled politely but with quizzical eyebrows. They did not quite get the humor.

  Ted said, “I apologize. It’s an inside joke, but let me try to explain. It was defining moment in our family’s history. You know that old, almost-Zen question, ‘How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?’ Well, about six months ago at the supper table, Colter asked younger brother Andy that age-old question.

  “Before Andy could answer, I broke the riddle down. I saw it as a teachable moment. I began, ‘Boys sometimes the best way to eat an elephant is a little bit at a time.’

  “Andy jabbed me, ‘Dad, I thought we were talking about woodchucks, not elephants.’

  “I rolled my eyes and continued, ‘Let’s tackle the question piece by piece. Andy, what is a woodchuck?’

  “He answered, ‘There’s no such thing.’

  “I corrected, ‘Andy, we don’t call them woodchucks in Montana, but a woodchuck is a marmot. You’ve seen one or more of them on our property.’

  “Older brother had to show his chops, ‘Yeah, Andy!’” I asked for candor, “‘And did you know a woodchuck is a marmot, Colter.’

  “Red in the face but always honest, he answered, ‘No … but they can’t chuck wood.’

  “June helped me out, ‘Boys, the question is if, if a woodchuck could chuck wood. Is that clear?’

  “After the boys nodded in agreement, Colter still defended his castle. ‘But, Mom, marmots don’t gnaw on wood like beavers.’

  “She said, ‘Remember if, Colter.’

  “I went on, ‘That takes us to chuck. Chuck usually is taken to mean move, burrow, or consume. A naturalist estimated a woodchuck could move 700 pounds of wood in a day. Another way to look at it is that a marmot could ingest an estimated 22 cubic inches of wood a day. Honey, what do you say the answer is: how much wood?’

  “June took a deep breath, ‘I’ll go with a lot.’

  “I asked, ‘How about you, Colter?’”

  “Always analytical, he squinted and said, ‘I think an average of the two estimates. What do you think, Dad?’”

  “Let me think about that. Andy, what do you think? How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

  “Andy, who was now sick of the kibitzing, shot back, ‘70!’ It broke us up, and continues to. I didn’t do the discussion justice when I recounted it for you just now. It must have gone on for ten minutes …”

  “‘More like an hour, Dad!’ Andy said.”

  “We’re proud of our boys,” Ted continued. “In this case, Andy outdid himself with ‘70!’”

  As Andy beamed, Joan nodded at him, “I know a natural showman when I see him!”

  Cody put his hand on Andy’s shoulder, “Son, do you sing or play a guitar? If so, I’m coming back for you when life gets back to normal. I see star quality.”

  “Thanks, Joan and Cody,” June smiled. “We’re proud of him, and as much of Colter. Colter has his own charisma and talents. He absorbs information like a sponge and goes on to put it to good use. He’s has been writing computer code and programming robots for years. Likely a design engineer in the making. Our other star.”

  Ted said, “Star makes me think of the night. You two ought to stay with us tonight. Your horse needs food and rest, for sure.”

  Cody: “I’d really like that, but we need to make our way south. If you don’t mind, we’ll do as you say on the horse. Let her recover. When she does, please make good use of her. We’ll be back this way in a couple weeks.”

  June: “Well, before you go south, let me get you some bison steaks to take with you. Don’t forget to fill your water bottles here. We continuously boil river water, so it’s safe for you to drink.”

  Ted added, “Thanks again for the help with the rustlers. I’ve got to confess, Cody, I didn’t recognize you right off. I don’t read People magazine.”

  Cody laughed and slapped Ted on the shoulder, “I don’t either, partner! It’s for those Californians. And you’re welcome. We thank you all!”

  *****

  Marsh, John, and Keala stopped at the filling station in Deer Lodge. Again, no one else was around. Keala insisted on using a different pump from the one Marsh had used before. As she approached, the touchscreen lit up. The pump performed normally. “See, Marsh, I can do magic, too!”

  John shook his head. “I’m definitely revising my EMP theory!”

  Neither pestered Marsh for answers this time. All three felt they had stepped through the looking glass.

  John: “One explanation for the New Year's event I hadn’t mentioned is a cyberattack, a digital attack. I wonder …”

  The three exchanged glances as they considered John’s word, cyberattack.

  Keala said, “Wow! I hadn’t thought of that either. Hackers have even penetrated the Pentagon’s firewalls. No telling what a battery of hostile hackers could do! Excuse the poor choice of words: battery knocking out the electric grid.”

  Marsh added, “Yeah, the possibilities are endless, to include free-lancers decked out in underwear in someone’s basement to professionals in the Chinese military.

  Changing the conversation flow, John said, “Evidently, someone wanted us to save that nuclear reactor.”

  “And saw us approaching the gas pump in time to turn it on each time,” Keala added.

  Marsh: “Be that as it may, let's saddle up, so to speak. You all look for a good place to pull over on our way back to kill some time, a place where we won’t attract any attention. It’s not going to be as easy as you think as Missoula’s population disperses to find water, wood, and food. Ideally we’ll pull into the woods and find a good place to hide not too far off the beaten path. None of us wants to get stuck in the snow. The idea is to go through Missoula tonight in the dark — night vision goggles on and no headlights, same old drill.”

  Nearing Clinton, Marsh pulled off the road heading toward one of his old fishing holes on the Clark Fork River. The dirt road was topped with six inches of snow. The slight sinking of the truck into the packed snow gave much better traction than ice.

  From the truck bed, John knocked on the back window, pointing to a perfect spot at the truck’s one o’clock position. Marsh pulled the truck behind a group of trees and bushes and shut the engine down.

  All three huddled under blankets inside the pickup. John kidded Marsh, “Very impressive, but I think you had this place in mind all the time you were telling us what to look for.”

  Marsh took a deep breath, “I can’t deny what you said. I’m just not that smart. Or am I?” Trying or not, he was a man of mystery, usually a pace ahead of everyone else.

  Keala said, “You know, napping now will throw us way off our sleep schedules.”

  Marsh: “Keala, just think of our little respite here as part of the antelope hunting experience. Sorry about the sleep schedules. We have to be smart. That refrigerated meat will taste so good at breakfast tomorrow. You're both going to be heroes for bringing home the bacon, er, antelope.
”

  *****

  Safely past the dangers of Missoula, they pulled off into a Lolo filling station in the dark. The pump came to life for Marsh. He topped off the Ford’s tank.

  John tapped Marsh on the shoulder, “You know this technological magic trick is just a big yawn after you do it again and again.”

  “Want to join my church yet?” Marsh shot back. “Mount up! We’ve got a few miles to go before you sleep.”

  Keala:. “Hold on here! Marsh, some of this stuff is like a dream. It doesn’t seem real. Come on. You know more than you’re telling us.” She was insistent.

  “I’m like you all. My responsibilities have me talking to a lot of folks, so I hear a lot. There’s a lot of speculation, but very little fact.”

  Keala was not satisfied, “How about your cell phone? What about that call from the National Command Authority? How about … ?”

  “Keala, that smartphone is too smart for me. At best, it’s intermittent. I didn’t expect the National Command Authority text. I was bluffing with the cell phone offer. I was trying to make a point that no one could vouch for us in these desperate times — with a blank screen. I was as surprised as you when it came on with that message. What do you think happened?”

  Waiting for an reply to his unanswerable question, Marsh went on, “We’ll play it by ear, but I think I’ll be able to drive you up to the gate. I just don’t want the noise of the truck bringing untoward attention to the Denton Ranch.”

  Abruptly, Marsh added, “Folks, we can’t linger here anymore. I’m seeing several suspicious people at my 9 o’clock and 2 o’clock. Let’s get you all back to Denton. John, man the rifle in the bed of the truck for the 9 o’clock target. Keala, window down, pistol ready for the 2 o’clock. Lock and load!”

  The threats at the service station faded in the truck’s mirrors. In less than an hour, with only the signature sound of the Ford truck to mark their arrival, Susan came out in the cold to greet them at the gate. The three travelers downloaded the remaining MREs and gutted game. Marsh kept the bottled water and gear.

  Night vision goggles still on, Marsh shook John’s hand, “Thanks for saving the world, man — really!”

  Keala hugged Marsh. “Good night, Mystery Man! We’ll save you some pronghorn steaks.”

  *****

  Marsh drove to his compound with night vision goggles and no headlights. Before the final approach to the compound, he slowed and became acutely aware of his surroundings. Memories of Afghanistan flashed into his consciousness. Losing situational awareness had cost him several buddies. Their deaths taught him a life lesson. Alertness had saved him in the war and as a sheriff. He was satisfied that nary a soul was following or watching, much less out and about in the frigid winter night.

  In the compound via an infrared camera, Jenny saw him approach the electric gate connected to an electrified fence topped with concertina. She opened the gate remotely. Marsh came down the stairs from the garage to the below-ground living area. Jenny ran to Marsh and hugged him, nearly knocking him over.

  “How did it go, sweetie?” she asked.

  "Before we get into that, Jen, any problems getting the horses back here the other night? You know I didn't like you being out there all alone at night."

  "It was all good, Marsh. No problems. My turn again: How did it go?"

  “Well, John prevented a nuclear meltdown, so I’d say mission accomplished. The trip itself raised a lot of questions. The truck was a complete surprise to John and Keala, of course. The text I got before the trip indicated we’d get gas without problems, no worries. That’s how it happened, like magic, the pumps sprang to life just for us, as promised. The actuality shocked even me. Then there were the multiple eliminations of hostile roadblocks miles before we got to them. Had to be surveillance from above, probably by one or more armed drones. Magic, again!”

  Jenny calmly said, “I had a little of that magic last night. I got a security alert after you left. On the monitor, I saw tracers coming from overhead at the fence, then a fine pink mist when I turned on the perimeter floodlights. When I checked the perimeter this morning, there were two dead bodies that looked like hamburger meat. The snow around them was pockmarked. I think it was from an aerial gatling gun.”

  “Jen, I’ll get out there in daylight and gather up …”

  She laughed, “No need. When I went back to dispose of the bodies, they were gone. Our friendly brown bear probably helped me out.”

  “Jen, how do you know it was a brown bear?”

  “Because grizzly bears scare the daylights out of me!”

  “Jen, I’ve always heard that if you whisper go away in a grizzly’s ear, he’ll leave you alone.”

  “That’s not funny, Marsh.”

  “I know. It’s been a long day. I’m still trying to figure out how to keep guarding the secrets we have — as instructed.

  “What do you think is going on, Marsh? I can’t put it all together.”

  “Jen, beats the hell out of me. So far this mysterious benefactor hasn’t hurt us, so I’m inclined not to fight city hall this time. If he goes after my bride, that’s another story.”

  *****

  The redhead woke as the last salmon-pink vestiges of the sun’s rays reflected off silver-gray clouds in the Northwestern sky. She was groggy and freezing cold at sunset as moments of consciousness returned. Her feet and hands were numb. Her arms tingled as she untucked them. Her head throbbed with pain, and her neck ached. A large scab covered her skull, underneath which the pain radiated. Eventually she realized she was alone. Her new “friends” were gone, along with almost everything she had. She despaired, life is a series of ups and downs. This down just might be my last. No blankets, no poncho, no gun; only a hooded parka, ski pants, and boots.

  As a last resort, she checked her ski pants pockets with unwilling fingers. She found the magnesium fire-starter she had meant to put in the backpack but forgot, and wound up stuffing in a pocket — a life-saving mistake. I still might live, she thought, as she started slowly sparking the kindling left for the old fire. To her surprise, the fire caught with a few strokes. Fire! Wonderful fire!

  She planned on getting no sleep this night. My only desire is to stay warm, to live by the fire. This is my sun, my source of life. I must stay awake to tend it no matter what. Tomorrow will be tomorrow. Meanwhile, I will figure something out! I wonder why my head is throbbing so much.

  Despite her slowed thinking, the redhead was suddenly struck with the physical impossibility of surviving outside as long as she did. As she lethargically brushed some golden hairs from her coat, she knew they were not hers. They were also on her ski pants. The dogs! The yellow labradors saved me! They evidently kept me warm enough to survive without blankets. Good trade for my last food, she mused: morsels for a two-dog night, and day for that matter.

  I have always been able to cry when I needed to. This is a time to cry, yet I cannot. It would bring some relief and let me move on. I wonder whether I am so dehydrated I can’t cry. My shaking will not stop. Will I make it to sunrise?

  January 12

  The redhead welcomed the first rays of the sun cascading over the Sapphire Mountains to the east. Her eyes burned from being dried by the fire and from lack of sleep overnight. The chore of keeping the fire going had been a Herculean task with no water or food for over a day.

  Internally, she felt another unfamiliar burning sensation from sleep deprivation. She sensed her mind was slowed. Without thinking, she blew warm air over her right hand so that she could check the big scab on the side of her head. At least, the throbbing there had stopped. She gritted her teeth as she tried to think of her next move.

  I must get water from the river, she prioritized. I know part of my confusion is due to dehydration, though I don't feel thirsty in the cold. River water will take me to the edge of hypothermia, if not over the cliff. If I keep moving, that should keep me from freezing.

  I need to make progress toward my cousin in Missoula.
Oh, how I wish I could sleep to quell the nagging, burning feeling in my body! Burning yet cold! I need to pull myself away from this magnet of a fire. Food will come when it will come.

  So with great reluctance, the redhead decided to leave her treasured fire and trudge north. Immediately, she thought she heard rustling in the woods. I see flashes of yellow out there. Are those just phantasms created by my sleep-deprived brain? What state will I be in a few hours?

  *****

  At Denton, Zeke woke in a cold sweat. The words, we’ve been hit!, bounced around in his cranium like a hitman’s bullet. He realized he had been dreaming about the nightmare he had been living.

  Keala asked, “How are you doing? You tossed and turned a lot last night.”

  Zeke minimized, “Fine. You?”

  Keala dug deeper, “You don’t seem fine. Anything bugging you?”

  “Nothing more than the total upheaval of my life — our lives.” Zeke reminded himself, we’re probably monitored, man. Stiff upper lip, mate! “I am so lucky to have you. Thanks for caring.” He kissed Keala’s cheek.

  “We can talk about it anytime. I’m here for you, honey,” Keala said sympathetically.

  “Let’s get downstairs. I'm hungry!” Zeke smiled as he tried to rally. By the way, welcome back!" He laughed at his slowness of thought and manners on waking up.

  *****

  Downstairs, the Denton bunch lingered late after breakfast. As Zeke poured everyone more coffee, John and Keala began recounting their excursion to Idaho with Marsh. John began, "Our first shocker was a few blocks outside our gate. After we tied up the horses, Marsh had us take the camouflaging tree branches and brushes off an old Ford truck. "

  “So, somehow Marsh produced a truck to take you to Idaho?” Brock inquired.

  John answered, “Between seeing an old car on the foray into Missoula before and the estimated turnaround time Marsh gave us for the Idaho trip, that didn’t surprise me that much. It was the gas pumps coming to life …”