Rulon let that hang there for a moment.
“So why don’t we cooperate?” Joe asked.
Rulon whacked the top of his desk with his open hand. “Because we don’t know a damned thing about him other than what I just told you. This Templeton pays his property taxes, licenses his vehicles, and minds his own business. No complaints have been brought against him, so there’s been no reason to investigate the guy. Apparently, he has an airstrip and his own plane, and he leaves for days and weeks on end — but we don’t know what he does. Normally, I wouldn’t care. Wyoming citizens can do whatever the hell they want as long as they don’t hurt anyone else, as far as I’m concerned. But you know how it is here. There is just enough talk — and these federal suspicions — that I’m getting a little nervous about it.”
Joe was surprised. He said, “I thought you were generally at war with the federal government.”
“I am,” Rulon said emphatically, “and that isn’t going to stop. It’s one thing to be independent and tell them to leave us the hell alone and to go piss up a rope because we have plenty of mineral wealth. I have no problem doing that. But I have to pick my battles, you know? I can’t let it be insinuated that we’re harboring some kind of criminal threat, or that I’m letting this state be used as the base of operations for organized crime. We can’t give those bastards any more reason to go after us.”
Rulon sighed and leaned forward and lowered his voice. He said, “The theme out of Washington these days is ‘reward your friends and punish your enemies.’ I give them fits on all kinds of issues, but I do it to protect the citizens of this state. I can’t give those bastards a justification or excuse to marginalize us any further, or punish us. We’ve got to make sure our own nest is clean, if you know what I’m talking about.”
Joe thought he did. He said, “Where do I come in?”
The governor steepled his fingers together and peered at Joe over them. “You’ve always had this ability to get into the middle of things. And when you do, you look at the situation in a clear-eyed way. At times, it’s annoyed me and I just wished you’d gone on with your business. But it is a unique gift, and I recognize that.
“Joe,” Rulon said, “you’re my range rider — a seeker of truth. You’re my man on the ground, like before. Only this time, you can’t get directly involved in the situation and you need to be wary not to embarrass me.”
Joe felt himself flush.
Rulon said, “To be honest, Joe, you weren’t my first choice.”
“Oh?”
The governor’s face was grave. “Two weeks ago, I asked my Division of Criminal Investigation to send a man up there to gather information. Not to storm the castle or throw his weight around — just to get the lay of the land and report back. It was done on the sly, but my guess is it didn’t take long for those cranky insular hill people up there to figure out there was a stranger in their midst. It didn’t work out, and now I have blood on my hands.”
Joe sat up. A state DCI agent had been murdered?
“We can’t prove anything,” Rulon said. “But the poor guy burned to death in a motel fire.”
“Okay, I read something about that,” Joe said. “A fatality in a unit of some mom-and-pop motel. But no mention that he was with DCI.”
“It took some real arm-twisting to contain that story,” Rulon said. “We wanted to wait on revealing his identity until it was proven the fire was arson or an arrest could be made. We even asked the FBI for help with the investigation, but they couldn’t determine any kind of foul play. It was a fire caused by our man smoking cigarettes and falling asleep in bed, they said. Nobody up there talked, and there is nothing to go on to prove it wasn’t a stupid tragic accident.”
“But you don’t believe that?” Joe said.
“I don’t know what to believe,” Rulon said. “I just know I don’t think the best way to find out about Templeton or what’s going on up there is to walk around with a state DCI badge, asking questions.”
Joe said, “Ah, now I get it.”
“Thought you would. Do you know the game warden up there?”
Joe said, “Jim Latta. I don’t know him well.”
Said Rulon, “No one in Medicine Wheel County will suspect anything if Jim Latta gets some help from a fellow game warden. Happens all the time, as you know. That way, you can get access to that county in a way no one else could.”
“Do we let Latta know what’s going on?” Joe asked.
“Your call. I’d suggest you wait to see if you can trust him. I’ll let Lisa know that you’re being sent up there to give a hand to Jim Latta, and she can let him know to expect you.”
Joe was taken aback. Was Latta under suspicion as well?
Rulon said, “I’ve asked our man at the FBI to fill you in on all the details of what they’ve got, and he’s supposed to be here any minute.”
“Your man?” Joe prompted.
“Special Agent Chuck Coon. I believe you know him.”
Joe smiled. He’d worked for years with Coon.
“He thinks you can be a loose cannon,” Rulon said. “I couldn’t disabuse him of that notion with a straight face.”
“He’s a good man,” Joe said, and meant it.
“Too damned tightly wrapped, if you ask me. But a lot of those lifers are like that. Anyway, he said he’d brief you on what they know and establish some kind of line of communication and support if you need it.”
Joe nodded, then asked, “If the FBI has these suspicions, why don’t they send one of their own?”
Rulon snorted. “If those cranky hill people up there identified my undercover DCI guy, how long do you think a Fed in sheep’s clothing would last? Those guys might as well have FBI tattooed on their foreheads.”
“I see your point,” Joe said, slightly overwhelmed with the implications of his assignment.
But this was Rulon’s way: he was to work for the governor but through the FBI, with his own agency director providing bureaucratic cover without even knowing it. Thus, several layers of deniability were established if the situation went sour.
Rulon said, “For damn sure don’t clue in the sheriff up there. That might have been the DCI agent’s first mistake.”
Joe nodded and gulped.
Rulon again shot out his sleeve. “And we’re out of time.” He stood and shrugged on his suit jacket. He said, “Thanks, Joe.”
“Hold it,” Joe said, standing. “I have a hundred questions.”
“I’m not surprised. Maybe somebody can answer them for you.”
“Governor…”
Rulon turned as he reached for the door handle. He said, “Joe, you know how this works. I smoothed the way for you to come back and even goosed your salary. And I left you completely alone. Now I need your help.”
He narrowed his eyes and said, “I’m not asking you to get involved in anything up there, and I damned sure don’t want you risking your life. I can’t have any more casualties on my conscience. But find out what the deal is with Templeton, and let us know. Stay in the shadows, or the sagebrush, in your case. Just report back. Don’t let things get western, okay?”
With that Rulon left Joe in his office, clutching the brim of his Stetson. He could hear the governor booming welcomes and homilies to a group of visitors in his larger office.
As he turned to exit, Lois Fornstrom stuck her head in the doorway and said, “Mr. Coon of the FBI is waiting for you.”