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As we waited for Ted to arrive, Charlie and Terry continued their heated argument in the middle of the road. The snow was starting to pile up around us, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. I could feel the chill creeping into my bones, despite the multiple layers of clothing I had on.
I trudged over to the overturned Ram to see if Charlie was okay. He was sitting on the snowbank with his head in his hands, blood dripping down his forehead.
“You’re hurt, Charlie.” I knelt down beside him.
He looked up at me, his eyes bleary and unfocused. “I don't know, Sheriff. I think I hit my head pretty hard.”
I reached out to touch his forehead, but he flinched away. “Sit still and let me take a look. This cut might need stitches.”
He reluctantly allowed me to examine the gash above his eyebrow. It was deep, but not too long. I took off my scarf and wrapped it around his head.
“You get to a clinic first chance you get, hear me? You might have a concussion.”
“Yeah, I will.”
I headed back to the squad and Molly was on the phone. “Molly, what have you got?”
“Milk River Run, Travis. There’s a man dead in a snowbank. He’s on county road fourteen about a mile past the bridge over the Milk.”
“Somebody with him?”
“A woman called it in. Milly Perkins. I imagine she lives near there or she could be waiting for you in her vehicle. She didn’t say.”
“Thanks. I’m just waiting for Ted. Second thought, I can leave Billy here in one of the trucks and move on to that call myself.”
I shoved the phone in my pocket and hollered to Billy. “Sit with Kovaks in his truck and wait for Ted. When this mess is clear, have Ted drop you at the office. He’s on our payroll for today. I told him only to take our calls.”
“What if we don’t get no more?”
“You shittin me Billy?”
Billy laughed as he ran to Kovak’s truck. “Turn the fuckin heat up.”
Milk River Run.
I hopped in my squad car and sped off towards County Road Fourteen. The snow was coming down heavily, and I could barely make out the road in front of me.
It took me almost an hour to drive to where the woman was waiting in her car just past the Milk River bridge. No traffic on that desolate road, so I pulled up alongside her and left the truck running.
I knocked on her window with my badge in my hand.
Bundled up in a sheepskin coat, a thick scarf around her neck, and fur-lined gloves, she was dressed a lot warmer than I was. She struggled out of her car.
A Montana resident who knew how to dress for this weather. She wasn’t a misplaced Texan without a fuckin clue how to keep warm.
“Ma’am, you called about a body. Sorry it took me so long to get here.”
“He’s over there in the snow. I saw one of his boots as I was driving by and stopped for a closer look.”
We walked a short ways back towards the bridge and she pointed to a lump under the snow that didn’t look anything like a human being.
I brushed enough of the white stuff away to verify that it was a man, fully dressed in a coat, boots, gloves. His exposed skin was covered in frosty ice crystals. He was definitely dead.
“Do you know who this man is, ma’am?”
“Yes, I know him. His name is Garnet Booth and he lives about another mile down the road. It’s a shame he didn’t make it all the way home.”
“Where would he be walking from way out here?”
