Out of the Smoke Page 25

  Emilee gasped, and Hans stopped again. She clearly had not thought about that yet. Then her lips pressed tightly together, and she motioned for him to continue.

  He rushed on. “We shall have to enroll them in a public school, and very likely one in a poorer neighborhood. This is a major consideration for me. All of my children are very bright, but Lisa is especially gifted. She loves physics and math. She is already an accomplished piano player. With the high marks she’s getting in the Academy, she is very likely to receive a scholarship from one of several universities. That was my dream when I was her age. I never saw it fulfilled. And it is a source of great joy to me to think that she might do what I never did.”

  A sob escaped from Emilee as her tears spilled over and made streaks down her cheeks.

  Feeling wretched, Hans pushed on. “Number five: If I terminate my employment with the party, I also terminate my health benefits—including my current leave of absence at full pay, and any ongoing costs for my injured back. My retirement pension now has over twenty thousand marks in it. If I quit my job or am fired, I will lose all of that.

  “Six: This is another major consideration. If we get a smaller home, which is almost a certainty, we may no longer have room enough to continue to have my mother live with us. That has enormous implications for her and for us. She turned seventy-one last December. Thankfully, her health is still good, but where would she go if not with us? This will hit Emilee especially hard. She and Mutti are closer now than Mama is to any of my own sisters. I’m sure they will happily welcome her, but there are two problems with that. First, that will make it so that she cannot attend church every Sunday as she does now. Graswang is too far from Munich. Second, both of my sisters’ families there are dedicated and loyal party members. They have been ever since Hitler saved our farm. Klaus is almost fanatical about it. That would be very uncomfortable for Grandma.”

  Hans looked up as Emilee buried her face in her hands. His voice was shaky as he continued.

  “Seven: This is the most sobering of all the considerations. I have been a close, personal friend of Adolf Hitler for over ten years now. My rise in the party was mostly due to his personal patronage and his recommendations for my promotions. What will I say to him to explain why I am quitting? ‘Sorry, Adolf. It’s been a great time for me, but I think what you are doing is despicable and I can bear it no longer’? Even writing those words sends chills up and down my spine. Right now, several of his most trusted associates have turned on him and are trying to seize power from him. I have watched him rage at them when they are not around. I have also heard him vow that they will rue the day they turned on him.

  “This may sound overly dramatic, but I truly fear that if I were to try to leave, no matter what excuse I give to Hitler, I could be putting me, Emilee, and even my children in danger.”

  Hans set the notebook back on the lamp table and then turned to face his wife. She was still weeping softly, her face covered by her hands.

  “I am so sorry, Emilee,” he whispered.

  She slid off of her chair and knelt beside him. She took both of his hands in hers and pressed them against her wet cheek. “You are right, Hans. The last two reasons alone are sufficient. Thank you for thinking this through so carefully.”

  Then she laid her head against his chest and wept.

  May 1, 1933, 2:35 p.m.—North Flank of Shay Peak, Blue Mountains, San Juan County, Utah

  Benjamin Westland pulled his horse up short and then stood up in the stirrups. He fixed his gaze on the small meadow about seventy-five yards downhill from him. A movement had caught his eye, and now he was watching to see if he could see it again.

  It took only a second. A tail flicked, and there they were, nearly hidden in the thick undergrowth. He pulled the binoculars from his saddle bag and searched the area carefully. After a moment, he saw movement again and focused in on the spot. It was a Hereford cow and her six-week-old calf, and they were moving slowly through a patch of light underbrush. He focused on her flank. Sure enough, the EDW brand was clearly visible. When he confirmed that the calf carried the same brand, he returned the binoculars to the bag.

  He turned in his saddle as he heard the sound of horses behind him. MJ and Abby were just coming out of a stand of aspen about fifty yards up the slope from him. He cupped one hand to his mouth, and pointed with his free hand at the two animals.

  “Got two live ones,” he called. “Straight ahead of you in the brush. Come straight on and you’ll drive them to me. I’ll drop ’em out in the open.”

  As his sister waved an acknowledgment, Benji reached down to his scabbard and pulled out his .30-.30 Winchester. He was frowning. He’d never had to shoot a calf before. But the holding corrals were three or four miles away, and once they killed the mother, the calf would probably not leave her.

  A minute or two later he heard movement in the brush. Then the cow appeared, walking very slowly, head down so low that her nose almost dragged the ground. A moment later, the calf came into sight, following its mother. “Got ’em,” he called. “You can come on in.”

  Though Benji was still twenty-five or thirty yards away, the mother stopped when she saw him and eyed him suspiciously. It was as though she understood why he was there. As soon as the mother stopped moving, the calf quickly moved up to her rear flank. Splaying out its legs, it tucked its head between the mother’s legs and seized on one of the teats on the mother’s udder. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be had, and when the little one started butting at the mother in protest, the cow gave her calf a swift kick and drove it away.

  Benji was shocked to see how bad off the mother was. Her ribs stuck out like barrel staves and the hair on her hide was falling out. Even standing still, her body was trembling.

  Two minutes later, MJ and Abby came up and joined him. “Any chance they can make it?” MJ asked as he reined up. Then he answered his own question. “No way.”

  “What about the calf?” Abby called as she joined them.

  “She’ll never leave the mother,” MJ said.

  “We need to take them both down,” Benji agreed.

  MJ frowned at his younger brother. “Okay, but not until Dad and Mr. Davis are here. They’re just over the ridge up behind us.”

  “I’m gonna take them down now. That poor thing looks like she’s gonna keel over any moment now.” He withdrew his rifle from its scabbard and laid it across his saddle.

  “Not until Dad’s here, Benji,” MJ growled. “Just hold your horses.”

  Benji didn’t answer.

  “There’s Dad now,” Abby exclaimed. She was pointing at the ridge behind them.

  Turning to look, Benji spotted two riders about two hundred yards above them, just below the ridgeline. One of the horses was a brown and white pinto. His father’s. He glanced at MJ, saw that he was watching the two oncoming riders, and carefully lifted the rifle. Abby had turned and was getting something out of her saddle bags. Benji hoisted the rifle up to his shoulder even as he levered a shell into the chamber.

  “Benji, no!”

  CRACK! The cow dropped like someone had cut her legs out from under her with a scythe. With a startled bawl, the calf jumped about six feet sideways and bolted away.

  “C’mon, Benj,” MJ cried. “Davis needs to see so he can confirm the kills in his little book.”

  “He can see me from there. And if he has any questions about it, I’ll show him the bullet hole. They obviously didn’t die of starvation.”

  MJ was clearly irritated, but said nothing more. The three of them watched as the calf began to make its way back to its mother. It was frightened and skittish, but little by little it moved closer. Finally, it stood beside the carcass and began to low mournfully.

  Turning around, Benji saw that his father and the agent from the Department of Agriculture were coming at a trot and were now less than a hundred yards away. He glanced
at MJ and Abby, who were both watching them come.

  The calf moaned again, and that did it. Benji again lifted up the rifle, took quick aim, and pulled the trigger. CRACK! The calf was knocked rolling.

  “Criminy, Benji!” Abby yelled as her horse jumped so violently that it nearly threw her off.

  “Sorry,” Benji said, ignoring MJ’s glowering look. He slid the rifle back in its scabbard. “I didn’t want it running away.”

  Above them, Mitch and the agent had spurred their horses into a run. They pulled up moments later. Acel Davis, agent for the U.S. Department of Agriculture, was in the lead by a couple of yards. He pulled up first, frowning at the sight before him. Mitch was right behind him and shot his youngest son a withering look.

  “The mother was gonna fall over,” Benji said. “And the calf was about to bolt.”

  Davis grunted and moved his horse up to where the two carcasses lay. He didn’t dismount, just looked at them and then took a small notebook and pencil from his shirt pocket. “Okay,” he called. “That’s two more. Where to next?”

  “Anything else up here?” Mitch asked the three of them.

  “We found six other carcasses,” MJ said. “Looked like a mountain lion had taken one of them down. But no other live ones.”

  “Sorry,” Davis said. “The rules say I can’t give you credit for dead ones.”

  “Wasn’t asking,” MJ said easily. “Just telling you that these two are the last ones up here.”

  “Okay,” Mitch said. He turned to the agent. “Should we head back to the holding pens then? That’s where everyone else is waiting for us.”

  “I’m ready,” Davis said, and he kicked his horse into an easy lope.

  As Mitch and MJ fell in behind him, Abby picked up her reins, but Benji shook his head quickly. “Hold on for a sec, sis.”

  “What?”

  Benji watched the three riders for another few moments, making sure they were completely out of earshot, and then he leaned in and said, “So did you and MJ find them?”

  “Yeah.” Abby turned and pointed. “They’re up in that small stand of pines.”

  “How many?”

  “Joe Blackhorse and four others. Two pack animals plus their own mounts.”

  “Good, good. That should be enough. You told them to be sure they stay out of sight until we’re completely gone?”

  “No, Benji,” she snapped. “I told them to be sure and step out where we could see them.”

  “Sorry, just checking.”

  Abby cocked her head and gave her brother a curious look. “How come you’re always trying to irritate MJ?”

  “Who, me?” Then Benji laughed. “Actually, it irritates me that he’s always telling you and me what to do. Someone needs to remind him that we’re not kids anymore. Heck, we turn eighteen in two more weeks.”

  “So constantly trying to put a burr under his saddle is your way of fixing that?”

  “Yup!” He grinned at her. “Wanna race to catch up with them?”

  Abby shook her head and picked up her reins. “Naw. It’s way too hot out here for—”

  She let out a yell and dug her spurs into the flanks of her mare, sending her into a full gallop in one leap. She waved back at Benji with one hand and hollered. “Wahoo!”

  Benji laughed and nudged his horse into trot. That was his sister.

  3:55 p.m.—Holding Corrals,

  Indian Creek, Shay Mountain

  “I get forty-eight, counting the calves,” MJ called, walking back toward the others.

  Acel Davis grunted in satisfaction. “That’s what I got too,” he said. “So with the two that your son killed up above, and the eighteen we killed yesterday, that’s sixty-eight. Add in those seven down at the ranch and that makes seventy-five. At twenty bucks a head that’s fifteen hundred dollars the government owes you.”

  Edna June, MJ’s second oldest, was standing by her father. “Fifteen hundred dollars! That’s a lot of money.”

  “Yes, it is,” Mitch said. “But it still galls me to shoot them and leave them here to rot.”

  “Amen,” MJ growled.

  “Can’t say that I blame you,” Davis said. “I’m a former cattleman myself. But I don’t make the rules. I’m just here to enforce them.”

  Rowland and his two sons came over to join them. “Why can’t we take them up to Thompson Springs and sell them?” Lem asked. “That way somebody would at least get the meat.”

  “Three reasons, son,” Davis said. “In the first place, they’d never make it on a cattle drive that far. Secondly, it takes about that much to truck them to the railhead. Third, it will cost more to ship them by rail to the big packing houses in the Midwest than they’re worth.”

  Mitch nodded. “Did you have your own ranch?”

  “I did. In Nebraska. The Dust Bowl of North America. Can’t grow enough there to feed chickens anymore, let alone cattle. And if it makes you feel any better, the allotment for the slaughter of cattle in Nebraska is about half a million head.”

  Heads snapped up all around him. “Half a million!” someone cried.

  “Yep,” he said. “And about that many pigs as well. What they’re doing there is digging deep trenches with bulldozers, then lining the animals up and shooting them in the head so that they topple into the trench. Then they bulldoze them over.”

  He didn’t realize they were all staring at him in horror until he looked up.

  Rowland started a retort, but Mitch came in smoothly. “All right. Sorry to interrupt, but Acel has other commitments he has to meet.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “I’ve gotta be in Hanksville by noon tomorrow. Got three ranches to cull out their herds.”

  ‘Well,” Mitch said, “then we’d better get you started down. It’s about five hours to the ranch. If you get started now, you should be there by dark. You’re welcome to stay with us overnight and—”

  “No, no. I’ll be heading out to Hanksville tonight.”

  Mitch turned to MJ. “I’ve asked my son to take you down. I need to see to it that we get all these animals put down.”

  “And you give me your word that you’ll kill them all?”

  “I do.”

  ‘”That’s good enough for me.”

  “Anyway, I’m going to see to it here. So MJ and his daughter Edna June will take you.” He gave the man a lopsided grin. “I wish I could say that it’s been a pleasure having you here, but that wouldn’t be true, would it? But it has been a pleasure to work with a man of his word.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” Davis went to his horse and mounted up and then turned to MJ. “Okay, I’m ready. Lead out.”

  The rest of the group stood together and watched them until they disappeared around a bend in the trail. The moment they were gone, Mitch motioned for his family to move in closer. “All right, listen up. I want to be headed down by no later than six. We’ve got a half moon tonight, but I want to get as far as we can while we still have daylight.”

  Abby was staring at him, her mouth half open. “What do you mean? I thought we were staying up here tonight.”

  “Nope!”

  “Wait!” Noah cried. “What about Chief Blackhorse and the Indians?”

  There was a ghost of a smile. “What about them?”

  “Aren’t they coming up tonight?” Noah blurted.

  “Why would they do that?”

  “But. . . . But. . . .”

  “Yes, Abby?” her father said, trying hard not to chuckle.

  “But what about all the meat?”

  “What meat?”

  “On all those cows we’re going to kill!” Lem exclaimed. “That we are selling to the Ute Indian tribe.”

  “We can’t do that, Lem. That would be illegal. You heard what Mr. Davis said. The food destroyed through this program cannot be
sold.”

  Lem’s older brother Charles was shaking his head. “But . . . I thought that was what this was all about.”

  “My goodness,” Mitch said with a smile. “There sure are a lot of buts flying around tonight.” But then he sobered. “Listen to me, all of you. Our contractual agreement with the U.S. government is that we will kill every cow that we gathered up and leave their carcasses to rot. So that is what we are going to do. First of all, Rowland is going to take Noah and Benji and Charles and they will shoot all of the cows. While they are doing that, Lem and the girls are going to take down the tents and pack them on the packhorses. They will gather up all of our gear, make sure the campfires are all out, and saddle our horses.”

  He turned and spoke to his son-in-law. “Rowland, I would recommend that you keep the cattle in the corrals. They’re divided pretty evenly between the three. That way they can’t bolt away.”

  “I agree.”

  “Rowland and Charles will be one team. Noah and Benji the other. As much as possible, go for the head. Drop them where they’re standing. And when you drop them, we want them to stay down, so take a second shot if necessary. Rifles only, no pistols. There are extra boxes of ammunition in my saddle bags. Any questions?”

  They shook their heads. So Mitch clapped his hands. “Okay, go to work.”

  “What are you going to do, Daddy?” That was from Abby again.

  “I’ve got to ride down the trail a ways and check on one thing. But it won’t take much time, and then I’ll be back to help you pack.”

  He clapped his hands together. “All right, let’s go.”

  Benji spoke up. “Wait. What about Joe Blackhorse and his friends?”

  “What about them?”

  “They were up in the meadow where I shot that cow and calf. They were waiting to come down to skin them and butcher the meat.”

  Mitch seemed surprised. “And did they do that?”

  “I . . . I assume they did. They were just waiting for us to go.”

  “Ah, so you didn’t actually see them come and take the meat?”

  “No, but—”