Leaning Land by Rex Burns Read Free Book Online Page A

their tax money to give the Indians everything they ask for, and the Indians say the ranchers run their cows on reservation land and take reservation water with their wells.”
    “Del Ponte told you nothing?”
    “Far as I can figure, there’s nothing he could’ve told me that I didn’t already know, so I don’t think he was killed—if he was killed—for knowing anything dangerous.” A snort of disgust. “And like I say, everybody knew he was working for Durkin; a worse goddamn secret informant I couldn’t think of!”
    “Is this Constitutional Posse a serious threat?”
    “Who to? They don’t go running around shooting and bombing.”
    “Somebody is.”
    Morris considered that. “Well, I don’t think it’s them doing it, Officer Wager. I know a lot of them—good family men. Hard, by God, working, pay their bills, do the best they can in a hard country that’s having hard times. And generally stay out of trouble.”
    “Can you give me some of their names?”
    “It’s no secret. Brad Nichols is sort of the organizer—they mostly meet out at his ranch, anyway. And Stan Litvak generally runs the training sessions.”
    “Who else?”
    “Just drive around the county and read the goddamn mailboxes.”
    “All the ranchers belong?”
    “I don’t know about all. A hell of a lot of them do.”
    And probably all voted alike, which would carry a lot of weight with any publicly elected official such as a sheriff. “Did Del Ponte infiltrate them?”
    “You sound just like Durkin—infiltrate! He was maybe invited to join them, I don’t know. Maybe he even went to a couple of meetings. Hell, everybody over twelve years old they ask to join them. They don’t make any secret who they are. Be pretty hard to do around here, anyway. They have monthly training sessions when the weather allows—third weekend of every month, if you’re interested in going: weapons familiarization, target practice, survival techniques. And no, Rubin didn’t tell me this—he didn’t have to. I was told when they invited me to join!”
    Wager looked at the narrow-shouldered man. “Are you a member?”
    “No. Didn’t feel right about joining since I get my money from the government—it’s county, but it’s government just the same. And, anyway, Sheriff Spurlock said he’d fire me if I did join. Said the deputy’s oath doesn’t allow membership in any outfits that challenge government, local or federal.” He shook his head, voice dropping as the surge of anger passed—or was stifled. “Rubin didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, Officer Wager. That’s what I said to Durkin. Told him just what I’m telling you, but the son of a bitch didn’t believe me. As much as accused me of getting Rubin killed because I was the contact for that sorry son of a bitch and must have shot my mouth off to somebody about him.”
    “Who do you think is killing federal agents?”
    Morris shook his head. “It might be somebody from around here. Nobody has any cause to love the bastards. But I don’t have any suspects, and I don’t know anybody crazy enough to shoot them.”
    “Not even some of the Constitutional Posse?”
    The man’s jaw worked a time or two before he answered, his words growing heated again. “Whoever it is, is working on his own. And that’s not saying it’s somebody from around here, even. It could be somebody on the reservation, it could be somebody coming in from another county. If it was somebody doing it for the Posse, Wager, I’d’ve heard about it, because there’s not that many people in this county. Tell me, just how close are you working with the FBI and BLM? You taking your orders from Durkin?”
    “I’m an officer of the state of Colorado and that’s who I work for—just like you. But somebody killed two men who happen to be federal employees, Deputy Morris. And a law officer, any law officer, wants to see murderers caught.”
    “Didn’t happen in my jurisdiction, Wager. And