On the way up the trail, Jack again flanked them, running just off the trail as the two men talked.
“I thought maybe Stratford would get this call. Isn’t he the guy patrolling the passes now?” McCain asked.
“We both work the passes and kind of trade off,” Williams said. “He’s off for a few days, so I’m the guy. After looking at the bones, any idea how long they’ve been out here?”
McCain described the coloration of the bones and gave his opinion on the question. In his investigations over the years of dead animals, many that had been poached, he had a good idea how long it took for bodies to decompose in the mountains. He wouldn’t swear to it, nor would he have to, but his guess was the body had been up here about nine months, since maybe October.
The men were having no trouble moving up the trail until a small rattlesnake decided to cross right in front of Williams’s horse. The mare’s ears went back, her eyes got about three times larger than normal, and she gave one big snort before she started bucking like a rodeo bronc.
“HANG ON!” McCain yelled at Williams who upon further inspection didn’t need the advice. He was hanging on for dear life.
“WHOA! WHOA!” Williams screamed at the mare while pulling back on the reins.
But the horse kept crow-hopping and snorting. Luckily, Williams was a big, strong guy, and even though the judges would have disqualified him for holding on with two hands, he otherwise might have made a decent score. He lasted the full eight seconds before he decided to bail off to one side.
Williams actually stuck the landing, hitting on both feet, standing perfectly straight as the horse spun away and ran back down the trail toward the corrals.
McCain was amazed at the whole event, and after he saw that Williams was okay, other than maybe needing some clean shorts, he started laughing.
“Dang, that was some ride,” McCain said to Williams between laughing fits. “You sure you and horses don’t get along?”
“Not funny,” Williams said. “About the only thing I like less than horses are rattlesnakes. Where is that thing? I’m going to kill it.”
“I don’t think Mr. Patterson would appreciate that. I think old Buttercup there is one of his best ponies.”
“Not the horse, the snake!” Williams exclaimed. “I coulda been killed.”
McCain laughed again and looked around for Jack. The dog was sitting about twenty feet way with a happy dog look on his face. It seems he had enjoyed the rodeo performance immensely.
When they finally arrived at the bones, Williams took his time looking around and taking photos with his cell phone. Then he taped the area off with yellow tape that he’d carried with him in a small daypack. The crime scene folks would be back up to the site the next day for a more thorough look around, but Williams had enough information to give them a report when he returned to Yakima.
On the way back down the hill McCain offered to let Williams ride the gray horse, but Williams said there wasn’t enough gold in Fort Knox to get him back on another horse. The whole walk down the trail Williams discussed his dislike for riding something that had a brain the size of a tennis ball, weighed ten times what he did, and could squash a man like a roach. McCain just chuckled as Jack searched around every tree and rock for another pesky squirrel to hassle.
When McCain and Williams returned to the corrals it was obvious the arrival of a rider-less horse had created a bit of a stir. Patterson was getting another horse ready to take up the trail himself, to make sure the men were okay.
Meanwhile, the ABC-TV van had shown up, and there stood Simon Erickson. It seems they had been monitoring their police scanner, as most news stations and print reporters were apt to do, and he had headed up the mountain to see if he could get enough to report on the story of the human bones found on the trail.
When Erickson saw Williams leading the way on foot, with McCain riding behind, he thought Williams had been caught by the horseman and was being transported to jail. His lucky day. He swung his camera around at the two men and began filming. Once he realized both men were law enforcement officers, he took a different tack.
“Would one of you officers have da time to give me a short interview?” Erickson asked.
“Don’t look at me,” McCain said. “Deputy Williams is in charge here.”
Williams gave McCain the same look he had when he was looking for the snake.
Chapter 11
McCain replayed the wild horse ride in his mind and laughed as he drove down the mountain. It had been a long day, and he was anxious to get home and get to bed. He was almost to Naches when his phone rang.
“Hey, I assume you got my message?” he said as he answered.
“What do you think?” Sinclair asked.
“It’s him,” McCain said. “Even though there was no way for me to tell if it was a woman or man by looking at the bones, seeing the long black hair nearby tells me it had to be a woman.”
“How long dead?” she asked.
“I’d say nine months,” McCain answered. “But that’s just a guess. I know it’s too late today, but it would be worth checking the reports for a woman gone missing around that time.”
“I already did,” she said. “After I got your message, I started checking immediately for anyone missing in the last twelve months that fits our other women’s description.”
“And?” McCain asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Or at least not yet. Of course, we have a few Native women who are still missing, but none from that timeframe.”
“Has YSO officially asked for your help yet?”
“No, but I’ve notified my boss
