Garrison glanced over at him and Red couldn’t figure out his expression. “When you came to talk to me about the job, I was impressed.”
Red didn’t let himself feel any satisfaction. After that interview, he’d fallen for Dell’s scheme and his chances at the job had gone down the drain.
“The thing is,” Garrison went on, “I couldn’t figure out why you took the blame for Henshaw.”
Red twisted around to stare at Garrison, surprise rendering him momentarily speechless.
“I’ve been around the block a few times,” Garrison answered his surprised look. He gave his attention to the road as they hit a shredded stretch of asphalt, slowing down just enough to keep the car under control. “I figured it was Henshaw—and he probably was working with somebody—but didn’t have any proof. And you didn’t point your finger at him to save yourself.” Garrison looked over at him, and he thought maybe he saw respect in the older man’s gaze.
Red felt his neck heat. Respect from Lem Garrison wasn’t what he’d expected.
“Then,” Garrison went on in a somber voice, “the poor kid drowned in the Yellowstone, and a raft of sheds washed up downriver. I figured he’d tried it again and this time he didn’t get so lucky.”
Now Red wasn’t following. “Then why were you looking for me?”
A wrinkle creased Garrison’s forehead. “I was hoping you had an idea who put Dell up to it. There’s a lot of illegal elk sheds being sold up in Bozeman, and I aim to figure out who was paying Dell for a raft of sheds that got him killed.”
Red’s breath loosened in his chest. Garrison wasn’t looking to lock him up, and maybe he could get justice for Dell. “There’s a blue Cadillac at the bottom of a scarp on Hebgen Lake Road,” Red said. “The trunk is full of sheds.” When Garrison checked the license plate, he’d find David Endicott’s name and address and it wouldn’t take much digging to figure out that Endicott had a side business in Bozeman selling elk antlers.
Garrison’s brows went up and he nodded. “Red, after all this”—he lifted a hand to indicate the damage on the road—“you come talk to me.”
“I told you all I know.”
“I mean about that job,” Garrison said. “I knew I was right about you—and a man with the guts and skill to ride into that canyon in the middle of a quake is somebody I want working for me.”
Red didn’t trust his voice to speak so he gave a nod in response. He should have been man enough to face Lem Garrison right after Dell’s death, instead of running off to Libby. If he had, Jenny would be safe at home and Claire wouldn’t have endured that night in the water. But what-ifs and should-haves didn’t help with the right now.
Finally, Garrison pulled into the parking lot in front of a sprawling brick building with an American flag flying on a tall pole. Ambulances and police cars lined the curb. Nurses helped the injured through the door, and uniformed Army carted supplies. Red felt the urgency return to his limbs and had the door open before the car was fully stopped.
“Red?” Garrison said as Red climbed out. “I’ll be praying for your little girl.”
Red pushed through the doors of Ennis High School to find it wall-to-wall with anxious-eyed men, women, and children.
“Please, everyone.” A woman wearing a light blue dress with a red cross on the pocket held up her hands in front of a set of double doors. “We understand you’re looking for your loved ones. Please make an orderly line.”
Red moved toward the line, then jerked to a stop.
Pete Henshaw, head and shoulders above the crowd, was just a few feet in front of him. Red sidestepped into a hallway before Pete spotted him. He didn’t want any kind of altercation with Pete, not until he’d found Jenny. But Beth was here, and he didn’t want Pete tofind her—or Claire. Who knew what a man like Pete would do, even in the middle of a crowd.
He headed down a side hallway, looking into the open classroom doors for somebody to ask about a baby without Pete catching sight of him.
“Red.”
He stopped and turned back at the sound of his name.
Father Donahue, dressed in black with his white clerical collar, poked his head through a doorway. “What are you doing here?”
Red ducked into the room. “I’m looking for Jenny.” He explained in as few words as possible about Claire and Beth and how they ended up at Rock Creek and why he didn’t want to run into Pete Henshaw. “Who would know if a baby came in on one of the transports out of the canyon?”
“The Red Cross supervising nurse is our best bet.” Father Donahue grabbed Red by the elbow and steered him out the door and down the hallway. “Claire and Beth are probably in the gymnasium here.” He stopped at a closed door. “You warn Beth. I’ll track down the nurse and ask about Jenny.”
Red nodded and opened the door.
The cavernous gymnasium was a clamor of noise. Rows of cots lined up on the basketball court held the injured. Doctors and nurses hurried between them. Two National Guard soldiers bumped past him with a man on a stretcher, his eyes closed and his face streaked with dried blood.
He found Claire and Beth underneath the basketball hoop. They were scrubbed clean and in fresh clothing. Beth lay on a cot with a needle in her arm and a glass bottle of clear liquid hanging on a stand beside her. Her other arm was in a sling. Claire sat on the cot next to her.
When she saw Red, Claire flew to him, alarm in her eyes. “I’ve been asking the nurses about Jenny, but it’s so chaotic no one has been able to answer me.”
