Knowing who we were looking for did not make the search for Horace Washerman easy. With the hotels either protecting the privacy of their customers or not having had Washerman as a guest, the Columbia Falls Police Department was left to posting flyers with Washerman’s photo and the message that he was a suspect in a cattle wrestling operation. It might help, as we were sure that someone would had to have seen him and would report that information to the police.
While we were waiting for this information, Officer Barnes and I continued our patrols, which were limited to routine calls. Until more information came in, we couldn’t do any more then that.
And at home, Molly and I continued to follow the school district superintendent’s race. According to the polls, Tabby was still in a huge dogfight with Hireman for the post. Some days she was ahead, and some days she was behind, always by a very narrow margin in either direction. And most recently, the charge that Tabby was out to cut the town’s school sports programs narrowed that gap even further. And as I returned to Bandhavgarh Cabin one evening from another quiet patrol, I found out that Tabby was looking for help in that regard.
I found Molly getting ready to head out as I came in the door.
“Oh, George, I’m glad it’s you,” Molly spoke, “Tabby called a little while ago. Said she wanted to see us.”
That left me a bit puzzled. I wasn’t home when Molly obviously answered the phone, so I was curious why I would be mentioned.
“Did she say why?” I wondered, “this would be rather sudden for a social call, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t think it’s a social call she’s looking for, George,” Molly answered, “she told me it had to do with the election and making her look friendly to the local sports fans.”
That still left me puzzled a bit, but I understood the reasoning. Sports teams were always big with small town sports teams, and school districts generally did a lot to back them. From things that I’d followed on the news, schools that suffered from budget problems solved them by cutting the number of teachers and removing the band, choir, and art programs from the curriculum, commonly while expanding their sports teams at the same time. Schools rarely, if ever, cut their sports teams.
“And she thinks we can help?” I wondered, probably betraying how confused I was.
“You played sports in high school,” Molly reminded me.
“Yes… but I was never good enough to keep playing sports in college… not to mention that at that time I went head over heals for you,” I replied.
“Are you calling me a distraction?” Molly teased.
“No, I’m calling you the most important thing in my life,” I defend myself.
“Good answer, but we need to get going, anyway,” Molly answered and gave me a soft nuzzle as she headed to the door.
“Do I have time to change out of my uniform?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” Molly sighed, “Tabby’s call wasn’t urgent, but she did seem to want to have this meeting done quickly.”
“I see,” I answered.
I removed my belt and set it on our couch. I was off duty and wouldn’t need it, and it was all that I had time to remove before following Molly back out the door.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Arriving at the Choir’s home and site of their vineyard, Molly and I found that we weren’t the only ones that Tabby had called. As we came up to the front door, we found Joseph Patten getting out of his own car.
“Hello, Mrs. Wayne, Officer Wayne,” Patten spoke in a very professional tone as we approached.
“Hello,” Molly answered, “back, did Tabby call you too?”
Patten slowly nodded and then noticed my attire.
“Something going on?” he asked.
“Not here,” I answered, “got some loon running around… tried to “free” the Ames’ cattle.”
“Washerman?”
I nodded.
“The man is missing a lot of mental faculties,” Patten commented, “Clemens has told me that he made headlines in Florida once for protesting the state’s response to the Burmese Pythons down there… and that is going back before anyone knew about the Animatrix Serum. Said that killing the snakes was inhumane.”
“The python is an invasive species down there, I read that one of them ate a gator,” Molly spoke.
“Not that it’ll really matter to Washerman. The guy is nuts,” Patten replied.
“The reports on him we have at the station would agree with that,” I sighed, “the problem is, he’s either hiding or left town. We’ll have to wait awhile to get him… or spread the word and hope some other police unit gets him.”
Patten slowly nodded.
“So what is with the uniform?” he asked after a moment, “when you’ve been off duty you’re normally in silks…”
“Normally I would be,” I answered with a shrug, “the silk doesn’t irritate my fur as much…”
“And with all our fur, even the cold winter isn’t too bad,” Molly added.
“…and so Molly and I stick to clothes that be a summer design only for people, shorts short-sleeved shirts…”
“Dresses for me,” Molly added.
“…but I’d only just gotten home when Molly said that Tabby had called, so I have not had time to change,” I finished, “I apologize if that was too long an explanation.”
Patten nodded as we had all reached the front door by that time. As Patten was in front of us, he knocked politely on the door. A few moments later, Tabby opened the door.
“Ah… everyone arrived together,” she spoke, “come in, come in.”
I could smell Dave cooking their dinner in another room as Molly and I entered. A television was on in another room, which was probably Veronica. Tabby, meanwhile lead us into their living room and offered each of us a seat. Molly and I sat on the couch carefully to make sure the claws on our hands didn’t extend and rip the material. Patten sat in a chair immediately to Molly’s right while Tabby sat in the other chair that was to my left.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming,” Tabby spoke as she sat down.
“Anything for friends,” Molly told her.
“Yes…” Tabby nodded, “as I’m sure you all know… I didn’t fare all that well in the last debate…”
“Only on a minor issue,” Patten remarked, “I doubt your position in regards to the sports program in the school district will be a deciding factor. Not with the main issue being Molly’s presence as a teacher.”
“Yes… but you can never know when little details will shift things,” Tabby answered, “Mr. Patten, you’ve offered to help as a sort of unofficial campaign manager for me and you’ve been on the School Board since before Dave and I moved here from California with Veronica… you should know how important the town holds its school sports teams.”
Patten nodded with an audible sigh.
“And George and Molly, you both seem fairly athletic and have told me that you were involved in athletics in high school,” Tabby then continued.
Molly and I glanced to each other and then nodded.
“I don’t want to be perceived as an “anti-sports” candidate,” Tabby spoke, “especially as it is a minor issue in the scheme of things… if it all blows up… it could make things worse then they are.”
There was a silence for a few moments before Tabby asked her question.
“So, do you have any idea how to explain that not buying new uniform designs every year is not an attack on the sports program?” Tabby asked.
“How did all that start?” I asked curiously.
“It began before I got on the School Board,” Patten sighed, “the idea was that by changing uniforms, the school would generate more media coverage and get more of the rural ranchers that live further away from town then we are now to come in and either have their kids join the teams or have them buy the tickets to watch the games. Now… while the economy was up, it actually worked… but once the economy began to tank in 06, the money that came in began to dry up. But the school board and Hireman have stuck to the policy rather firmly… and trust me, Mrs. Choir you are not the first person to advocate not changing uniform designs every year.”
“And Hireman is using it as an attack on having sports teams,” Tabby answered.
“Maybe you could do a promotion of some kind,” I offered, “if there is a mountain of previous uniforms that the district owns, you could sell off the extra jerseys as a promotion and use the money for other things…”
“You’d think that would work?” Tabby wondered.
“It’s the only thing I can think of,” I said slowly, “I have to admit that I’m not sure how much real help I can provide on his. I can tell you stories… but I’m not quite sure how to shape policy…”
“It’d depend on the school keeping all the old jerseys though,” Molly commented.
“We have,” Patten spoke up, “it isn’t that bad an idea to generate more money for the school… but with Hireman’s attack being that not buying new uniforms every year being an attack on the school’s sports programs… the idea wouldn’t really cancel out the attack. The only think you can do, Mrs. Choir is explain your position… make it as a speech or as a printed statement in the paper. Make the statement clear and explain that you’re only cutting the wasteful spending out of the program. Not cutting the program altogether.”
“That’s what I’ve tried to do,” Tabby gave a defeated sigh.
“I know,” Patten replied, “the race is a close one and probably the toughest one we’ve ever had. Normally, the debates are non-combative and last half an hour at the absolute longest. Candidates pass out flyers that say vote for me and that is about it… it’s a non-political post and normally doesn’t see issues as potentially divisive as the present election has presented.”
Tabby only sighed.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
We ended up staying at the Choirs through dinner, bouncing ideas off of each other to give the Tabby the help she felt she needed for the campaign. The next morning, the morning routine began as it normally did. Molly and I ate breakfast and then I headed out on foot for the station. As I went past Michael York’s home, I noticed a white Toyota truck idling in the driveway. It had a license plate that read “@NLUV01” on it. It was odd, but I assumed it was either Michael York’s daughter come for a visit or Frank, Nessie, and Meredith Rhoer’s vehicle.
When I made it into the station, I signed in and then went with Officer Barnes for what I hoped would be a productive patrol when it came to finding Washerman. For awhile, the patrol went as quietly as many of the others had been over the past few days. Then at about 8:45AM, the dispatch officer contacted Officer Barnes and I.
“Officers Barnes and Wayne, come in,” the dispatch officer began.
“Officer Barnes, here,” Officer Barnes spoke into the car’s radio.
“We have another ranch incident for you,” the dispatch officer spoke.
“Cutting the fence again?”
“The suspect attempted to,” the dispatch officer replied “but was sloppy and was apparently approached by the ranch owner. The charges that you can file on this guy are assault charges.”
That likely meant that whoever did this got caught by the owner, and likely used the wire cutters as a club when he was caught.
“We’ll be on our way,” Officer Barnes answered, “what is the address?”
I gasped as the dispatch officer read it to Officer Barnes. It was Michael York’s address. It left me wondering about what could have happened. Was the truck that had parked there and idling supposed to be there? Did I just miss something on my way in to work? Was Mr. York okay?
“Do you have any more information on what happened?” Officer Barnes asked.
“A couple of ranch hands found the owner,” the dispatch officer answered, “alive, but just barely. Expect to link up with an ambulance crew and secure the area.”
And we rushed on, sirens going. As we went, I prayed we weren’t too late to save the man who had really helped Molly and I in the beginning.