7 Wild East by Melanie Jackson Read Free Book Online Page B

strolled through town on the way to
Wendell Thunder’s house. It might all be inconsequentialities, but then it
might not. At least people were nodding at him that morning.
    It did not escape his notice that everyone—man or woman—was
carrying a gun.
    Though he had no use for idle speculation, he had to also
wonder if the town’s distilled hostility toward outsiders could become an
actual poison in the right circumstances. Put another way, if the surveyor
tried to walk out of the Gulch, would they let him go? Butterscotch had warned
him pretty clearly about the danger of the forest. Had the surveyor been warned
as well?
    Of course he had. He just didn’t believe them about the
bears. He spent his time in the wild and thought there was nothing to fear.
    Thomas had been skeptical, too, after last night’s moonlight
performance, but Butterscotch’s story about the funeral for a hand had stuck
with him. He was reserving judgment until he spoke privately with Inspector
Goodhead about what he had seen and what course of action to pursue.
    There hadn’t been a chance so far. He had asked over
breakfast about the surveyors and Chuck had explained about the proposed
pipeline. Thomas was not a small town boy, but he wasn’t stupid. He could
understand why someplace like the Gulch wouldn’t be thrilled with becoming an
oil boomtown. They could have reason for delaying the surveyor that had nothing
to do with the injured teenager needing time to heal. And it was a pretty large
coincidence that there was no working phone and that the town’s only radio was
broken. Though he had been briefed before leaving Winnipeg that the only way
they could reach the Mountie was by radio because there was no cellphone
reception in the area.
    So perhaps the situation wasn’t what it seemed like it could
be. Eventually things would become clear. Frankly, he had trouble believing
that an Inspector in the RCMP would have anything to do with such chicanery.
Charles Goodhead had a reputation for being a very by-the-book kind of
policeman, much to the dismay of his superiors. It was why Thomas had asked for
him as a mentor when he had to take outback training.
    In the meantime, he hoped that the angry surveyor did
nothing rash. The good and heavily armed citizens of McIntyre’s Gulch—and he
used the term loosely since it remained to be seen how many were good —might
be just as happy if he was killed by bears. After all, why should they risk
their necks for him if he deliberately put his life in danger?
     
    *  * 
*
     
    They had almost reached Wendell’s house when Chuck decided
that he would have to ask what had the recruit so preoccupied.
    “What’s on your mind, Thomas?” Chuck asked reluctantly. “Are
you concerned about survival training?”
    “I think that I should have made an arrest this morning.
It’s what Pete Mitchell wanted. But, as you are my superior officer, I thought
that I would run it by you before filing formal charges.”
    “Yes, of course. Why, and who were you proposing to arrest?”
    Thomas cleared his throat and began making a formal report.
    “Last night I was wakened by the full moon and saw something
outside the inn. Care to guess what I saw?”
    “Rats?”
    “No, sir, these were humans, not rodents. I actually saw the
mayor who was doing something with what looked like rocks and two other men. They
were carrying backpacks that appeared to be filled with heavy equipment. This
was odd, but I did not immediately suspect skullduggery and went back to bed
without saying anything.”
    “Wise choice.”
    “However, this morning I find that Mr. Mitchell’s surveying
equipment was apparently stolen in the night. Putting two and two together,
it’s only natural to conclude that these men took the equipment.”
    “Isn’t stolen the wrong word?”
    “What other word could I use?”
    “Try borrowed . Admittedly without permission. But
that is the way things are done here. Practically everything is