Free The Glacier Gallows by Stephen Legault Page B

as you thought.”
    â€œWhat happened to you? You used to be with us . You used to be one of us. Now you take a page from the tactics of the fucking tree huggers. I spent half of my goddamned press conference explaining why I love democracy and don’t want to lock up environmentalists. I should have been talking about alternative energy. Is that what you want?”
    â€œDue respect, Minister, you shouldn’t have said it. This is the digital—”
    â€œDon’t lecture me about the digital age! I get that from my teenage daughters! Let me tell you something, Brian. I see you at another one of my events and I’ll make sure you never speak to another person at Natural Resources Canada as long as I’m minister. You understand? Anything that you and your Alternative Energy Group are trying to do will be dead in the water. Do you hear me? Dead. I am very disappointed in you, Brian. Very disappointed.”
    â€œThat makes two of us who are disappointed, Minister.”

TWELVE
    BROWNING, MONTANA. JULY 10.
    COLE BLACKWATER HAD NEVER BEEN to Browning and wished that he wasn’t there now. It was hot and dusty and he was in a hotel room that, even by his very liberal standards, qualified as a dive. After he had showered and been chaperoned by the FBI to dinner at the Junction Cafe, three of his fellow hikers had slipped past the Blackfeet tribal policeman sitting watch in his SUV and joined him in his room for a beer.
    â€œWe’re not supposed to discuss this,” climate activist Jessica Winters said. “We get caught, there are going to be consequences.”
    â€œWe may as well already be in jail,” responded Peter Talbot.
    â€œThis is pretty much the best Browning has to offer,” said Joe Firstlight. “You should see our budget places.” He laughed, and the others smiled.
    â€œWhat do we know?” Cole sat on the edge of his bed and drank a cold Pilsner from the can.
    â€œThey seem to be mapping out each of our movements over the last few days. They wanted to know where everybody was last night and this morning,” said Talbot. He too had a beer in his hand.
    Winters said, “It feels like a week ago.”
    â€œThey asked about what time everybody got up and when we went to bed and who knew Brian before this hike and who was the last to see him,” said Talbot.
    â€œThey asked me all those questions too,” Cole said. “But I just don’t see anybody in our party as responsible. I don’t see it.”
    â€œWhat about the guides?” asked Talbot. “Tad? What about this Foreman fellow?”
    â€œForeman is dead too.” Winters shivered despite the stuffy room.
    â€œThat was an accident,” said Talbot. “He must have lost his balance in that gully and fallen.”
    â€œHe was a mountain guide. I don’t understand how he could slip and fall like that,” objected Winters.
    â€œIt happens all the time,” responded Talbot. “I know a guide who tripped and fell down the stairs. Broke his neck.”
    â€œIt just seems too coincidental.” Cole drank the rest of his beer and stood up to get another can. He had filled his sink with ice and put the beer in it to keep it cold. “This guy happens to be at the Two Medicine Grill when Derek needs a guide. Brian gets killed and then this guy goes off to look for what? The killer? After the rest of his party comes back, he falls and cracks his head open. Who was in his party this morning when we split up and went to look for Brian?”
    â€œI was,” said Winters. “And so was Mike, from the governor’s office. Derek radioed Blake, and that’s when we learned that Brian was dead.When Derek came and found us, he sent us back, and he and Blake talked for a while. Blake stayed behind to see if he could find some evidence that someone else was up there with us.”
    â€œThe fact that he’s dead makes me think that he