Chapter 3: Death Of A Friend

Scant minutes later Jesse was back inside the snow cat aimed toward home with the throttle wide open. The windshield began to frost up when the heater quit working. He attempted to wipe a clear space on the glass with his glove and succeeded just a little. He kept going at top speed, the throttle all the way out.

One handed, Jesse opened the thermos and sipped the hot brew straight from the bottle. Without warning, the heater kicked back in and the windshield began to clear. Three hours of fighting visibility and the snow brought Jesse home.

With no thought of safety, Jesse caromed down the slope into his front yard. Two cars with sheriff's decals on their sides sat parked in the yard. Two deputies stepped out of the house as the snow cat's engine died and Jesse jumped out. "Where's the body?" He asked. "Have you made an ID yet?"

The larger deputy answered. "It appears to be a break in gone wrong. Whoever the shooter was, he or she was surprised while in the process of breaking into the barn. You keep anything of value in there?"

"Nothing," Jesse answered. "Who was the victim?"

"Some unemployed punk named Harold Rasmussen." The big deputy seemed to dismiss Harold's death as of no consequence.

"That punk belonged here. He worked for me. I hired him today to do the chores for me. He was a nice kid," Jesse told the deputy. "Was he shot once up close with a large caliber gun, probably a forty-four caliber magnum load?"

The deputy's face became cold and still. "How did you come up with that information?" he demanded.

"Just a guess, but I had a little argument with a New York Cop who was carrying, illegally, I might add. I left him trussed up on the floor for you people to pick up. Ask him why Harold was shot.

As Jesse turned to the other deputy, he recognized Troy Nelson, a friend. "Troy, just ask that New York cop that jumped me in Ed's place. Right now he is in enough hurt to sing in the choir, any tune you request.

Before Troy could answer, the sergeant cut in, "I let that fellow police officer go after he explained it was a minor misunderstanding that became a full fledged bar room brawl over some trampy female. Be thankful he won't press charges against you."

"Troy," Jesse asked in disgust. "Did I just hear this ass hole right? He actually let that clown go? Didn't Ed tell him what happened?"

"A local bartender will stick up for a local drunken brawler," the sergeant cut in again. He grabbed Jesse's shoulder and said, "You will talk to me, not my subordinate."

He got no further as Jesse twisted out of the grip and threw the big deputy over his shoulder. His breath knocked out of him, Sergeant Dick Keller fumbled for his sidearm while still lying in the snow. Jesse stomped down on the man's shoulder hard enough to paralyze it. "Don't," he ordered.

"Jesse, do you have any idea what is going on here?" Troy asked. Is this connected with your Special Forces stuff? You went up against some real bad people and I know about that reward on your head, put there by those Columbians."

"Nope, no way." Every one of the members in that cartel blew themselves up in a lab fire I helped create. Unless they can reach out from hell, there is no way..." He saw the sergeant make an attempt to pull his weapon left handed. He kicked Keller in the crotch and continued as if nothing had happened, "they can reach me from Hell. The other two deputies came up in time to witness the crotch kick.

Troy said, "Walt, you drove up here with him. You take him home.

"It's a pleasure," Walt answered. He grinned at the writhing sergeant. "You just met a man who was not impressed by your bull, Sergeant Dicky Boy." He grabbed the sergeant by the wrist and helped him into one of the two cars.

"Where did that idiot come from?" Jesse wondered aloud.

"He came here on an exchange program with the Chicago Police Department sponsored by the FBI." Troy grinned, "That joker has been a pain in the butt since he got here."

"I want to see Harold," Jesse stated in a dull voice.

Without answering, Troy led the way to the milk room. Jesse gasped at the sight of his friend sprawled on the floor, arms akimbo, an ugly dark red stain in the middle of his chest. "Oh Jesus," he mourned, "I had no way of knowing."

"No way of knowing what?" Troy asked.

Jesse jerked back, startled from his moment of private grief. "I had no way of knowing when I hired him something like this would happen." In a harsh voice he continued, "But I intend to find out what this is all about and when I do..." His voice trailed off into a half sob.

"Jesse, don't you go taking the law into your own hands. When you were in in Special Forces and assigned to that task force you got by with a lot of ugly stuff you can't here. I heard about some of the things you were in over there. You let the law take care of this."

"What?" he snorted derisively, "the law like Sergeant Bumble there? I'll take care of things myself in my own way."

Troy stared hard at his friend; "I know you could eat me for breakfast and never raise a belch or a fart. Even back in high school you were hell on wheels. But Jesse, hear me, if you take things into your own hands and you kill someone, I'll do my best to take you in." The deputy did not care for the thoughts going through the big man's mind.

"Don't you worry, old buddy, I am not about to grab a gun and go chasing through town shooting people. Walden don't have enough population as it is. I already have a lead on what's happening. If I'm right, its something you couldn't begin to get a handle on. Remember that cop that tried to jump me this morning? There's no way the sheriff's department out here in the boonies could wade through the politics it would take to get a handle on some crooked eastern cops. Whoever is behind this will come calling again. From now on I won't be unprepared."

He patted Troy on the shoulder, "Troy, if it was a question of brand blotting, or chasing down some bank robber or cattle thief, your people are the best around these parts. This is different." Troy was reluctant to agree as he nodded Jesse was right.

The paramedics arrived and quickly got to work. The two men moved out of the way. "I have to head back into town, Jesse. But please think long and hard before you go do something too extreme." Jesse nodded once and went into the house.

After they left, he went through the motions of completing the undone chores. For some reason, tasks like gathering eggs and cleaning the milk buckets and the separator did not seem near as important as they had the day before. He felt numb and weighed down as he went into the house and sat in the front room. He turned on the television and sat and stared at it. Two hours later he went to bed. He had no idea what he had watched. Never had he felt so alone as he undressed, crawled under the covers and tried to sleep. Finally he dozed off.