Chapter 23
When I arrived at the library, Allison was busily shelving DVDs. I hoped that since my previous visit, she had decided to overlook my missteps.
She looked up and her eyes brightened as I approached. “Good morning, Mr..……., I mean Nathan.”
That was a good start. The last time we had spoken, she didn’t call me anything, not even Mr. Parker. Now she was using my first name as I had requested. A good sign.
“You didn’t come in here yesterday. I thought maybe you no longer needed our services for writing your book.”
I didn’t recall telling her about my writing plans. But then I had told the Sheriff in the diner the other night, and Janice the waitress was there within earshot. So it would not be surprising that the word had spread far and wide.
“Not at all. You and your services are irreplaceable.”
“Glad to hear it.” We locked glances for a brief moment before she spoke.
“Are you enjoying our town?” she asked.
“Yes, though the only places I’ve really been in town are your library and the diner. I can highly recommend both.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” She beamed pleasantly. “Been doing a lot of hiking?”
“Yes. I was out all day yesterday. Met an interesting character in the woods. A guy named Jake Monroe. Do you know him?”
“I’ve heard of him, but haven’t met him.”
“He seems to be a loner. Lives in an old cabin pretty far out there. Does he come into town much?” I asked.
“I heard he comes in for supplies a few times a year, but that’s about it. He doesn’t talk much, from what I’ve heard. What’s his story?”
This was a first for me, being asked by a Willow Run resident about one of its own. Did this indicate I was officially a member of the local grape vine?
“Seems to be a Vietnam veteran who’s still struggling with adjusting to civilian life. So he keeps to himself, living off the grid. Totally harmless as far as I could see.”
“You learn something new every day. Welcome to the Willow Run gossip wire.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I have a gossip question for you, if that’s OK.”
“Sure,” she said.
I probably could have found the answer by searching old copies of the Teton County Observer, but there are times when asking a knowledgeable person is faster than asking the Internet. “When did Enid Powell become Deputy here?”
She thought for a moment, and then responded with conviction. “It was September of 2004, so almost 5 years ago.”
That was just months after his misadventure with two bounty hunters. That career path did not work for him, so he became Deputy in Willow Run.
She then peered at me quizzically. “Why do you want to know?”
I raised my eyebrows conspiratorially and replied, “In due time.”
She leaned in a little closer, “So mysterious, Mr. Bond,” she whispered.
I winked knowingly and turned to the computer.
According to Jake Monroe, two men had escaped from the fortress in the forest. One had to be the captive Deputy Powell turned over to INS. The other died running off a cliff. I felt tempted to conclude that the fenced-in fortress in the woods was an illegal immigrant detention center. But that seemed far-fetched, especially on National Forest land. Just to be thorough, I did a quick search for detention centers in the US. None were listed for Montana. They were instead located in more heavily populated states and especially along the southern border, as expected.
I considered agricultural research stations. That might be something one would construct in a forested area and perhaps even fence in to protect the research. An Internet search revealed there are more than 120 such stations in the US. All are highly promoted, visible, and public friendly. Two were listed in eastern Montana, far from here. Whatever is in Spring Valley is something far different, something requiring armed guards.
Are there military bases in Montana? A search revealed only one Air Force base, but that was far from Willow Run. No Marine and no Army bases were listed. Besides, military bases have signs on the highway announcing where they are. And they have big signs over their guarded gates.
But a secret military base would be….well, secret. I chuckled to myself. Sure, let’s just search for secret military bases online and find a complete list with their locations, functions, personnel, and funding. But for the hell of it, I did the search anyway. There was a long list of suspected and rumored bases all over the country, supposedly gleaned from review of public documents. The list included one in Bozeman, Montana that was speculated to do genetics work. Bozeman is over 100 miles from Willow Fork, and this posting on the Internet was long before the fire in the forest and the fence construction.
I had become addicted to the Internet as a way to find information. Now I had to step away from that comfortable tool to consider other ways to solve this riddle of what is going on among Ranger Andrew Pine’s trees.
“Nathan.” I jerked around in my chair at Allison’s voice. I had been so involved in my pondering that I did not hear her approach. “I’m sorry,” she said apologetically. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Oh, no problem. I guess I was pretty deep into it again.”
“I guess so.” After a moment, she continued, “I close up for lunch, so can you come back at one o’clock?”
“Wow, it’s lunch time already?” It was amazing to me how quickly time could go by when banging on computer keys. It seemed like I just sat down. “Well, actually I think I’m done for now.”
I hesitated briefly, and then took a bold step, for a homeless drifter.
“Allison, can I buy you lunch?” A couple of times this morning, I had glanced up from my searching and noticed her looking in my direction. Was she just checking to see if I needed assistance? Or was there something more personal, perhaps a connection? So I had to ask.
The invitation seemed to take her off stride. Recovering her composure, she replied swiftly, “No.” After a moment, she added, “I brought my lunch from home.”
With that, she turned sharply and went back to her desk. I guess I read more into her use of my first name and those glances in my direction than she felt. I had probably stepped over the line. She was simply being friendly as a courtesy to me as a user of the library. I had imagined it was personal, that she somehow might have interest in me.
Why would she? I was just a drifter passing through. For all she knew, I could be a sexual predator. Besides, there was probably some rule against fraternizing with the patrons, even in a small town like Willow Run. Don’t mix business with personal.
Now I felt foolish. Not because of the rejection, though that did hurt. I felt foolish because I’d put her in an awkward position. No wonder she reacted the way she did. I was also now in an awkward position. I felt a need to apologize to her.
I closed out of the searching. My next stop was Allison’s desk to apologize. But before I could get out of my chair, she came toward me with purpose on her face. I spoke first.
“Allison, I’m sorry.….” I didn’t get the chance to finish. She waved off my apology with a shake of her head.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. I was abrupt and….” She didn’t finish the thought, but rather continued in a new direction. “Would you please repeat your question?”
What? She wanted me to ask her to lunch again? It seemed a genuine, heart-felt request. So I asked again.
“Allison, can I buy you lunch?”
Without hesitation, she responded, “Yes, thank you.” She smiled with a slight tilt of her head. I didn’t know if there was any message to be derived from that tilt, but it only served to make her even more charming. As an after thought she added, “Yes, lunch would be nice. Maybe we can just go across the street to the diner, which you so highly recommended earlier.”
“My thought exactly,” I
said smiling. But I was still puzzled by her. Mysterious and moody. Icy at times, and then quick to forgive my transgressions. This could be an interesting ride.