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He signaled to Art Trumbo that he was in charge, then struck out for The Homestead. The brim of his hat shielded his eyes from the morning sun, sitting midway up in the sky. For the first of April, the temperature was unseasonably mild. But Ty was too preoccupied to notice, his thoughts already centering on the coming meeting with the lawyers.
Any hope that they might have arrived with good news died the minute he entered the den and saw the professional masks they wore, serious and businesslike, projecting an aura of competence. He shook hands all around and endured the jovial backslap from the blustery Justin Farnsworth, dressed as always more like a cattleman in cowboy boots and a flashy bolo tie. But his interest was piqued by the presence of Ed Talbot in the group, a former police detective and crack investigator.
Convinced the lawyers had arrived with some news, Ty walked over to the side table and poured himself a cup of coffee. Farnsworth resumed his seat in the wing-backed chair facing the desk.
“Chase was just telling me that you are shipping the cattle off to market,” Farnsworth remarked, settling back in the chair and assuming an attitude of ease. “That is probably best.”
Cup in hand, Ty hooked a leg over a corner of the desk and leaned on it. “What have you found out about the land?”
The investigator studied the steer horns mounted above the mantel, saying nothing and looking for all the world like an accountant. It was Farnsworth who answered Ty’s question.
“It’s just as we suspected. The environmentalists appear to be behind this one. I don’t have to tell you how strong their lobby has become these last few years.” He waved a hand in Chase’s direction. “Save the trees. Save the whales. Save the snail darter. They are always hot to save something.”
“And now they want to save my land, is that what you’re telling me?” Chase rocked back in the big swivel chair, his hard gaze fixed on the lawyer.
With a politician’s deftness, Farnsworth neither confirmed nor denied it. “You heard the hue and cry they raised about the damage done by cattle grazing in the national forest lands. It doesn’t seem to matter to them that a hundred years ago herds of buffalo, numbering in the millions, used to roam the same land. Or that the herds of wild horses that they are so determined to see run free do more damage than cattle. And horses aren’t even a species indigenous to this continent. But that is neither here nor there,” he admitted. “Now, they have turned their attention to grass. Native grass, like the kind growing on your land. They have decided it needs to be protected, too.”
“From whom? Certainly not from us. Calders have taken care of this land for well over a century now. Do you see that map on the wall behind me?” Chase jerked a thumb toward it. “There is native grass still growing on all of it.”
“I’m sure there is.” Farnsworth nodded his head.
“Are you saying the government plans to set aside that land as a nature preserve?” Ty asked, trying to cut through the rhetoric.
“Something of that sort seems to be afoot,” the lawyer confirmed.
“That is the stupidest thing I ever heard.” Chase’s voice was thick with disgust. “Nature never intended grass to grow untouched. It was meant to be cut by grazing animals, cropped close to stimulate more growth. The damage comes from overgrazing.”
“I quite agree with you. And I don’t know of a single rancher who wouldn’t.”
“How can we stop this?” Ty asked.
“That’s what we are trying to figure out. You see, there appears to be a slight problem.” Farnsworth slid a brief glance at the investigator.
“What’s the problem?” Ty directed his question to Talbot.
At a nod from Farnsworth, Talbot replied, “It seems the government no longer holds title to the land.”
Chapter Ten
Stunned, Ty came to his feet as Chase shot forward in his chair. “Seemed?” Chase pounced on the word. “Either they own it or they don’t. Which way is it?”
“They don’t,” Talbot confirmed with obvious regret.
“Who does?” Ty watched the man with narrowed eyes.
“It’s Dy-Corp, isn’t it?” Chase guessed, then glared at the lawyer. “Environmentalists, my eye. It’s not the grass. It’s the coal they’re after. I warned you to watch out for them.”
“I know you did.” Farnsworth’s glance fell under the weight of Chase’s hard look. “But we can’t say for certain that Dy-Corp is behind this. You explain, Talbot.”
Once again the investigator was the cynosure of all eyes. “I can tell you that title to the land is held by a Delaware corporation called Montana, Inc. Its sole stockholder is another corporation. Its name is unimportant since it is also owned by another company. So far, I have followed the ownership trail through five corporations. The last one is an offshore company by the name of Arateel. And I haven’t been able to bribe, steal, or strong-arm a single piece of information from anyone.” He paused and cast a considering glance over both Ty and Chase. “It has been like trying to find your way through an elaborate maze. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to conceal his identity.”
“It has to be Dy-Corp,” Chase concluded grimly.
“It could be,” Talbot conceded. “But why? What would be the point? I can’t tell you that Dy-Corp isn’t at the bottom of this, but my gut says they aren’t.”
Ty studied the man, convinced his opinion was based on more than just instinct. “Who do you suspect is behind this? And why is Farnsworth so certain it’s an environmental group?”
“To answer that, let me tell you what we do know,” Talbot began. “One of the companies in the corporate trail appears to be a philanthropic organization with a past history of purchasing other property for preservation purposes. According to a secretary for one of the more influential environmental lobbyists in Washington, a representative from that particular company met with her boss. After the representative left, her boss asked for a detailed map of Montana and told her to gather all the information they had on virgin prairies. A few days later, a hefty check arrived in the mail. That set in motion a bunch of high-level meetings. Shortly after that, you received official notice of the government’s decision not to renew your grazing permit.” His mouth twisted in a smile without humor. “This is one of those cases where, if it looks like a rat, walks like a rat, and smells like a rat, it has to be a rat. Can I prove the connection? No. But I can see it as clearly as I see my own hand.”
