Read Online Mexican hat by Michael McGarrity - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael McGarrity
Ads: Link
of his saddlebag and tossed it to Kerney. The prints matched perfectly.
"Looks like we found his trail," Kerney said. "But which came first? The old man or the ATV? The tire tracks match the ones I saw at a black bear kill."
"You're sure?"
Mexican Bal ■ 69
"Same wear on the rear tires. Same tread pattern." Kerney looked up the trail. It disappeared into a shadowy climax forest of ponderosa pines, bare of undergrowth, entrenched in the rich soil. The land rolled up and up, lofty trees masking deep ravines. He looked back to find Stiles leaning out of the saddle studying the ATV tracks.
"You're not the only one who has seen these," Jim said. "I took plaster casts of the same treads at a bighorn sheep kill up in the Tu-larosas."
"You're positive?"
"Yep. I had the state crime lab analyze the casts. Two different brands of tires, front and back, with the same wear on the rear wheels. Looks like we got ourselves a serious poacher here."
Jim pulled a camera out of his saddlebag and gave it to Kerney. He shot some pictures while Stiles rode his horse slowly up the trail. He finished and climbed into the saddle just as Stiles called back at him.
"Come on. I want to show you Grandfather Elderman's meadow. It's a damn pretty sight. And who knows what else might turn up?"
Kerney got on his horse and followed Stiles toward the climax forest. "You like this stuff, don't you?" he called out.
Stiles turned and nodded his head vigorously. "Hell yes, I like it," he called back. "Who doesn't like a good mystery?"
THE MEADOW looked like an outstretched hand with elongated fingers cutting into the forest at the base of the mountain. On the peak, the Mangas fire lookout station surveyed hundreds of square miles of national forest. Spring wildflowers, hot yellow and pale blue, scattered
Michael McGarrity
color throughout the native grass that fluttered in a mild breeze. ATV tire tracks flattened the grass in two lines, running straight toward the center of the meadow.
Jim reined in his horse at the edge of the meadow and waited for Kemey. "Bet you a dollar we don't find the carcass," he said when Kerney pulled up next to him.
"Why do you say that?"
"Every part of a cougar is valuable. The blood. The bones. The skin. If it's a male, even the testicles are worth significant money. It all gets ground up, cut up, boiled, or mixed with other ingredients and sold as medicine and folk remedies on the Asian market.
"Did you know poachers are killing all the tigers in China and India?" Stiles continued. "Most are about done in. It's at the point now that any big cat is at risk, the demand is so great."
"What about the black bear?" Kerney asked. "A lot of that animal was left behind."
"It's still the same MO. The poachers only take what's valuable. The gallbladder is worth its weight in gold. It's used to make an aphrodisiac. With bighorn sheep, they go after the horns. It gets ground into powder and used for a medicine to treat a dozen or more illnesses."
"So this is poaching for pure profit," Kerney replied.
"Big-time," Stiles agreed, moving ahead. "What we're gonna look for is evidence of the kill. That's the best we can hope to find."
In the middle of the field they found what Stiles expected, the remains of a partially eaten, hamstrung rabbit used to lure the cat, and a small patch of dried blood where the lion had fallen after the kill. Kerney took pictures and Stiles bagged all the evidence.
"That should do it," Stiles said as he finished. "We have enough
Mexican Hat > 71
blood samples for a DNA comparison." He stuck the evidence in a canvas tote bag and tied it to his saddle. "I'll get this up to the Santa Fe crime lab tomorrow."
"How much would a poacher stand to make on a kill like this?" Kerney asked, passing the camera back to Stiles.
Stiles stuffed the camera in the saddle bag. "Two or three thousand dollars, easy. But the profit is in retail sales. Whoever markets the product overseas stands to make four or five
"Looks like we found his trail," Kerney said. "But which came first? The old man or the ATV? The tire tracks match the ones I saw at a black bear kill."
"You're sure?"
Mexican Bal ■ 69
"Same wear on the rear tires. Same tread pattern." Kerney looked up the trail. It disappeared into a shadowy climax forest of ponderosa pines, bare of undergrowth, entrenched in the rich soil. The land rolled up and up, lofty trees masking deep ravines. He looked back to find Stiles leaning out of the saddle studying the ATV tracks.
"You're not the only one who has seen these," Jim said. "I took plaster casts of the same treads at a bighorn sheep kill up in the Tu-larosas."
"You're positive?"
"Yep. I had the state crime lab analyze the casts. Two different brands of tires, front and back, with the same wear on the rear wheels. Looks like we got ourselves a serious poacher here."
Jim pulled a camera out of his saddlebag and gave it to Kerney. He shot some pictures while Stiles rode his horse slowly up the trail. He finished and climbed into the saddle just as Stiles called back at him.
"Come on. I want to show you Grandfather Elderman's meadow. It's a damn pretty sight. And who knows what else might turn up?"
Kerney got on his horse and followed Stiles toward the climax forest. "You like this stuff, don't you?" he called out.
Stiles turned and nodded his head vigorously. "Hell yes, I like it," he called back. "Who doesn't like a good mystery?"
THE MEADOW looked like an outstretched hand with elongated fingers cutting into the forest at the base of the mountain. On the peak, the Mangas fire lookout station surveyed hundreds of square miles of national forest. Spring wildflowers, hot yellow and pale blue, scattered
Michael McGarrity
color throughout the native grass that fluttered in a mild breeze. ATV tire tracks flattened the grass in two lines, running straight toward the center of the meadow.
Jim reined in his horse at the edge of the meadow and waited for Kemey. "Bet you a dollar we don't find the carcass," he said when Kerney pulled up next to him.
"Why do you say that?"
"Every part of a cougar is valuable. The blood. The bones. The skin. If it's a male, even the testicles are worth significant money. It all gets ground up, cut up, boiled, or mixed with other ingredients and sold as medicine and folk remedies on the Asian market.
"Did you know poachers are killing all the tigers in China and India?" Stiles continued. "Most are about done in. It's at the point now that any big cat is at risk, the demand is so great."
"What about the black bear?" Kerney asked. "A lot of that animal was left behind."
"It's still the same MO. The poachers only take what's valuable. The gallbladder is worth its weight in gold. It's used to make an aphrodisiac. With bighorn sheep, they go after the horns. It gets ground into powder and used for a medicine to treat a dozen or more illnesses."
"So this is poaching for pure profit," Kerney replied.
"Big-time," Stiles agreed, moving ahead. "What we're gonna look for is evidence of the kill. That's the best we can hope to find."
In the middle of the field they found what Stiles expected, the remains of a partially eaten, hamstrung rabbit used to lure the cat, and a small patch of dried blood where the lion had fallen after the kill. Kerney took pictures and Stiles bagged all the evidence.
"That should do it," Stiles said as he finished. "We have enough
Mexican Hat > 71
blood samples for a DNA comparison." He stuck the evidence in a canvas tote bag and tied it to his saddle. "I'll get this up to the Santa Fe crime lab tomorrow."
"How much would a poacher stand to make on a kill like this?" Kerney asked, passing the camera back to Stiles.
Stiles stuffed the camera in the saddle bag. "Two or three thousand dollars, easy. But the profit is in retail sales. Whoever markets the product overseas stands to make four or five
Similar Books
