The Deadly River Read Free Page B

sale of this cedar forest. They certainly support everything that the two of you have been saying. I’m not going to ask where you got them. But I have to admit that I’m curious.”
    Ray smiled broadly. “Let me just say, Senator, that not all Forest Service employees like the idea of clear-cutting these trees.” He waved his hand at the magnificent forest surrounding them. “In fact, most of the Forest Service guys think it is an atrocity.”
    The Senator stood then, pulling his long, lean body into a stretch that seemed to reach for the treetops. “Good! If they were allowing this to go down without a fight, I’d be looking for new billets for them. In northern Alaska.” For the first time, he seemed to relax and he smiled widely. “Let’s go, Guys. We’ve got a fight to win and time is burning.”
    As they started back down the road, Congressman Metcalf fell in beside the Senator. “Mike, what can I do to help?”
    “Nothing needed, Lee. I know the Secretary of the Interior well. I’ll call him as soon as we reach civilization. If I promise him a good steak dinner, I think that will do the job. If it doesn’t, Ike owes me a favor or two and this is important enough to call one in. Do you agree?”
    “Yup!” Smiling, the four made their way back to the car.

    It was just a week or so later that the rumors began circulating. It seemed that somehow Washington D.C had become involved in local timber sales and some of the sales wouldn’t happen this year. In fact, one sale, up Little Joe Creek, was permanently barred from further action. Local politicians protested and the St. Dubois loggers grumbled, but there was no way to reverse the decision. But there were still lots of pine trees approved for cutting, so tempers cooled and the cedar forest slowly faded from people’s thoughts. It looked like life in the Montana mountains was back to normal.

CHAPTER THREE: CAR TROUBLE
    B ig Ray Moore was singing along with Elvis as he followed Highway 10 west from Missoula. He was in a great mood and the rollicking sounds from the pickup’s radio just made it better. It was a beautiful summer day, with the sunlight reflecting off the Clark Fork River as it wound its way along the highway through the pine-covered mountains.
    Ray was returning from his weekly trip to Missoula, where he’d picked up supplies for his garage and his wife’s little café, a combination of businesses that they’d named the “St. Dubois Truck Stop”. It was a trip that they usually took together, but Dawn had been too busy to leave the café this morning.
    Ray’s big body was shaking the entire pickup as he beat the steering wheel and sang along with
Blue Suede Shoes
. People who knew him would have stared in amazement at the sight of this huge, always serious, man rocking out in synch with Elvis. But Ray was alone and happy, so he let it all out.
    Rounding a curve in the highway, Ray noticed a car pulled off to the side of the road. Instantly he let up on the gas and stopped singing. If someone was in trouble, Montana people helped and Ray was no exception. In a characteristic gesture, he rubbed the huge scar that slashed its way from his left eyebrow to his hairline, as he mused aloud. “Nice car, ‘55 Ford Crown Victoria. Pennsylvania plates. Must be a tourist. But I wonder what it’s doing there in the ditch?” He stopped beside the car, but no one was in it, so he continued on down the road.
    After about a mile, he spotted a man walking purposefully toward St. Dubois. Slowing, Ray pulled even with the man and rolled down the passenger window. “Need a lift?”
    “Yeah. Thanks. My car broke down back a ways.” Ray was startled. The stranded man was just a teenager, probably somewhere between sixteen and eighteen.
    “What’s wrong with the car?”
    “I dunno. It overheated and started steaming and I didn’t want to push it, so I pulled over and started walking.”
    “Probably a broken hose or something like that. I could