Shameless as it may be, I rarely ever shy away from receiving any form of hospitality while out on the road. In hindsight it sounds funny describing the absurdly indirect connection I shared with Dick and Dulcy…but at the time I can honestly report that it seemed completely natural to be rolling down the road to their home…armed with the knowledge that if neither of them were there yet, I was free to head on in and make myself at home. Fortunately, by the time I turned down their 1/4 mile long driveway, Dick was already relaxing with two other volunteers. Having just finished a 7 day trip in the backcountry (under the tutelage of their daughter-in-law) spraying knapweed, they were as tired and dirty as I was. He welcomed me and gave a quick tour of the place. It’s a great little house they have lying on 30 or 40 acres in the valley just to the south-east of town. Barns, horses, hay, unobstructed view of Big Mountain Ski Hill…you know, the usual country life in Montana. I was standing on the porch, mouth agape in awe, when Dulcy got home.
Together, the five of us took turns getting cleaned up and introducing ourselves to each other. Dick had spent the last seven days hiking, camping, spraying and rafting with the two volunteers, though clearly I had not met anyone before, and when Dulcy had arrived at her house she was only familiar with her husband…so some slightly complex greetings were in order. One thing was certain, however…we were all starving. So with no time to waste we dashed into town for one heck of a meal. Over food and drinks we all traded stories, and in the end Dick insisted on taking care of everyone…almost generous to a fault! It was with full bellies and heavy eyes that we retreated to their home.
Regardless of being a cute little house, we each had our own bedrooms to sleep in. I was relegated to Guy’s old room…being that I was the guest male in the group. He being the missing piece that tied me into my current lodgings (being married to my wife’s friend’s sister), it was only appropriate…right?…aside from weirdness around the fact that I’d never met him. I was somewhat comforted by the fact that his old bedroom from days of yore looked an awful lot like mine. Same type of posters and snowboard magazine spreads on the walls…damn near the same library of books on the shelves…and exactly the same glow-in-the-dark astronomy poster pinned to the ceiling above the bed. Hilarious. Each time I glanced across the room I chuckled at some other item that looked familiar in some way.
After settling my things and making sure that I was taking advantage of a unique opportunity to re-charge all of my gadgets (phone, camera, ipod, etc…), I ventured to the living room for some more time with Dick and Dulcy (the other girls had gone to bed, expecting a 4am departure for a flight). Our conversation lasted for almost a minute before I noticed a familiar face on the muted television. Quickly flipping on the volume, I saw that very same 22 yr old bartender from St. Mary’s describe how two nights before someone had “…come into the bar (Bad Frog Cantina/Kip’s Beergarden/$1 PBRs) a little after 8, talked to her and the only two other people in the place, ate a burrito, and left.” They flashed a picture of fugitive Casslyn Welch (Bonnie of the Bonnie & Clyde couple who had been eluding officers after she helped her beau and two other guys escape from prison and murder a couple in AZ…and her fiance is her first cousin…eeew) and described how a number of people in the St Mary’s area reported having seen her around that time. Their guess was that maybe the two fugitives would be trying to cross the border into Canada.
I was dumbfounded. I couldn’t even get my words straight while explaining to my hosts that I had left that very watering hole close to 8:30 that very evening…leaving exactly two non-employees at that very bar…Bob Coyote and Ed. Through ignorance, naiveté and an embarrassing number of cans of beer, I had inadvertently rubbed elbows with a known murderer on the run as I took leave of that picnic table on the reservation. To my credit, it wasn’t until the following morning that I read an article about the manhunt…so I couldn’t have known who she was. But that thought really didn’t settle my stomach all too much as I leaned way forward on their couch and gave a couple of nervous laughs. Yeah, surely if I’d have known what was going on I would have called the cops, wrestled her to the ground and single handedly apprehended her with a drink coaster a salt shaker and a bike tube…yeah…that’s what I would have done.
I trailed off to bed that night reconciling the notion that had I actually been totally aware of my surroundings two nights earlier…I most likely would have crapped my pants and run home crying.
