Chapter 7

Social Services

A white sedan with state license plates stopped in front of the lodge. Two people climbed out: a woman with a briefcase and clipboard, and a man with a camera who immediately started stalking around the buildings, lifting the camera to his eye and photographing them.

Reese stepped out onto the porch; Buck came trotting up from his cabin. When he saw the man taking pictures he shouted, “Hey! You with the camera. This is private property and you’re trespassing. Put that camera down!”

Reese stepped down to intercept the two strangers. The stranger continued around the end of the lodge snapping pictures as he went.

“We’re from the State of Idaho on official business!” the woman said as she approached Reese, holding out her clipboard to display a business card and agency forms.

Buck jogged around and reached out to grab the man’s shoulder, spinning him around. He snatched the camera from the man’s hand.

“I said, no photographs. Are you deaf? This is private property and you’re trespassing. You don’t have permission to be here and certainly not with a camera,” Buck ordered.

“We’re on official state business to inspect this property. We can take any photographs we need,” the man said, reaching to grab his camera back. Buck dodged and jogged over to stand beside Reese who had taken the woman’s clipboard and was studying the document. The man followed, red-faced and angry.

“This is neither a warrant nor an inspection order,” Reese remarked. “All I see here is an interview form for, quote, ’a woman and four children, suspected not to be her own, reported living on Yankee Girl Mine property.’ Is that what this is all about, Ms... “ Reese glanced down at the business card under the clip, “Ms. Jones? You and this gentleman are here to interview an unidentified woman suspected of harboring four children? Is that it? I don’t see anything on this form that says differently. Do you have other orders or documents?”

“Hey, you!” the unidentified man shouted. “This is official State of Idaho business and you are obstructing us in our official duties! I warn you, I will call the authorities and have you arrested for interference, non-compliance, and ... and physical assault!” He raised his hand and pointed at Buck. “And theft! He took my camera!”

Buck had been examining the camera. He found the latch, popped it open, and pulled out a digital card. “Hey, nice camera!” he called out. “It’s one of those new digital models, right?”

The man jerked forward and clutched at the memory card in Buck’s fingers which twitched and let the card fall. “Oops,” Buck said, stepping forward and bending down to reach for the card under his boot sole. “Damned clumsy of me,” he mumbled, his boot pressing the card into the driveway. He picked up the broken card and handed it to the man who stared at him and then down at the card.

“Sorry,” Buck apologized with a grin, handing the camera back to the man.

“You’ll pay for that!”

“Send me the bill. But I’ll say it again. You’re on private property and you don’t have permission to be here nor to be taking photographs. Is that clear?”

Reese interrupted. “Ms. Jones, please tell your man to return to your vehicle with his camera. I see nothing in this paperwork that authorizes you to be on our property. Until you can present an order with proper authorization to support what you are here to investigate, I am asking you to leave. Please leave, now.”

“But you have underage children here! We’ve been informed of that and we have a right to investigate!”

“What children, Ms. Jones? Can you identify them, please? What are their names, ages, sex, and how many of each? Can you describe the woman listed here? Tell me her name, age, relation to the so-called children, and state whatever reason you claim they are not her own? Do you have any idea who you’re looking for? Or do you simply expect me to start trotting out any and all children who may or not be here together with some unidentified woman of unknown association so you can begin your inquisition? I don’t think so, Ms. Jones. Please leave. This document gives you no right to be here. You are, in fact, trespassing. I will call the Sheriff if I must; I’ll have both of you charged.”

“Boy, you do make a habit of kicking over thunder mugs and calling it a honey spill!” Sheriff Nelson laughed. “That state social services woman and her assistant stopped in here, screeching that I needed to load up and go arrest your ass for disrespecting state authority. Did you? Disrespect them, I mean?” he chuckled into the phone.

“Since you put it that way, no I didn’t. But I did disrespect the sloppy and arrogant way they handled the matter. She failed to get proper orders and documents to authorize her investigation, and they charged in here demanding access to snoop around. Did she show you that clipboard and the paperwork?” Reese asked.

“Yep. She waved it in my face like a Holy Writ, demanding that I go with her to enforce it.”

“So did you read it?”

“When she finally stopped waving it around and let me see it, yes. Hell’s bells, there was nothin’ there! Some woman and some kids was all it said. What the hell’s that all about? So, did she see ‘em?”

“Hell no. I had sent Gran and the girls off with Diane and the boys on a shopping trip for school supplies. They went to Twin Falls and I told ‘em to get lodging and stay overnight and not to come back until they had everything they needed. Anyway, I suggested that Ms. Jones get her orders and paperwork straightened out and to give us proper advance notification. Barring that, stay away. We were firm about that but we were polite. Except for Buck. He kinda by accident stepped on her assistant’s camera memory card and it got crunched. He did offer to pay for it.”

“Then that explains the destruction of official property complaint. Just the camera card, a digital card? Not the camera?”

“If he claimed the camera, then he’s full of it. It was just the card, not much bigger than a postage stamp. A few dollars to replace it, is all.”

“Well, they’re highly offended that they’ve been told to go pound sand, so I expect they’ll be back with reinforcements. Don’t be surprised.”

“It’s okay. We’re ready for them. I’ve called Clarence Reeder, our lawyer, and we’ll meet ‘em at his offices before we let them on Yankee Girl property. Gran and Diane have got all the children’s documents down at Clarence’s office and he’s matched ‘em up with state requirements. You should know that Gran’s daughter, Melody, had filled out custody papers to leave with Gran along with their birth certificates when she dumped ‘em on her.”

“Well, the girl wasn’t all stupid then. It makes a helluva difference. This state is damned backwards-looking when it comes to grandparents’ custody rights. Idaho bureaucrats are about 30 years behind the drug addiction catastrophe. They refuse to recognize how many kids are gettin’ left for grandparents to raise when drug-involved parents get locked up or dead from overdoses. Well, anyway, that’s old shit that’s already hit the fan. We’re just tryin’ to deal with the blowback.”

“Fred, this case is fearsomely different. I need to come down and have a long talk with you about some problems we’re having with violent types who appear to be chasing after something they maybe lost. Gran said Melody and her boyfriend were on the run from a cartel-connected drug gang, and I’ve already had one serious run-in with some enforcers on the way up through Nevada,” Reese explained. “I was told that the owner of the RV park we’d left got himself beat half to death. I’d asked him not to tell any inquiring strangers who Gran had left with. I can’t prove its connected, but it doesn’t sit right in my mind.”

“Well, the door’s always open. Stop in while you’re down here gettin’ the kids’ sorted out with the State and I’ll buy the coffee. And Reese? You might consider hangin’ a logging chain across the cattle guard at your gate entrance and locking it. You don’t get that many visitors anyway and it would discourage the riff-raff.”

“State of Idaho riff-raff you mean?” Reese laughed.

“Whatever. I’ll see you when you get here. Bye.”

“One advantage of home schooling is that we aren’t locked in to school terms or schedules,” Diane explained.

“And that’s an advantage because?” Reese asked.

“Because we’ve got some serious catching up to do with the girls,” Diane said. “Nita, age 13, almost 14, should be at ninth grade level but her testing is spotty, ranging from seventh grade for English comprehension, and eighth grade for social studies. Her worst result is sixth grade level math. She’ll need a lot of remedial study. The twins, age 8, should be at third grade level. Again, they test two grade levels down at worst, and barely second grade level at best.

“And Bug?”

“Little snuggle-bug, Lucella Louise. She’s a living doll, that one. And Reese, she’s brilliant. Her native intelligence is almost off the charts. That’s for us to know and to keep secret, Reese. But it puts a big obligation on us to give her every opportunity. Thank heavens she’s here and out of that bad environment.”

“Of course it will happen, Diane! But how about the others? How do we get them caught up?”

“Hard work, mostly, with focused instruction and lots of loving encouragement. All the usual stuff. It’s no secret, Reese. We give them the same advantages that rich kids get with their private schooling. Focused personal instruction, rich developmental materials, and a ton of fun whenever possible as learning experiences. It’s simple, really. It’s just an area that most public schools don’t have the resources or the smaller class sizes to work with.”

“So how did the girls get so far behind?”

“C’mon, Reese, it’s obvious. Being dragged from school to school, a series of abusive and drug-addicted boyfriends, a lack of parental encouragement, and social and racial prejudice in the classroom, as ugly as that sounds. It’s a reality. All that and a very poor home environment where they are too hungry or tired or abused and frightened to study. You name it, it happened. Heard enough?”

“Yeah, Diane, I have,” Reese sighed. “I knew it in the back of my mind, but its damned hard to face. And none of it is Gran’s fault, is it? She’s every bit the victim just like the girls.”