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Harlan and I sat near the front of the empty courtroom and waited. When Tanya was brought before the judge, her attorney, Garth Timleckson, stood beside her and helped her through the process. She entered her plea. The lawyer argued for bail and the judge granted it.

As Tanya walked toward the office to arrange her bond, I saw her glancing up and down the corridor looking for Floyd Boyd, but he didn’t show.

Must be severely pissed at her for messing up his perfect life.

After her financing was set and she was officially released, it wasn’t my duty to give her a ride home to Shelby. I figured her lawyer would do it in the absence of her husband.

“Huh,” said Harlan. “That pissy husband never showed up. Maybe he’s dumping her for cheating on him.”

“You could be right. Probably are.”

Mendenhall Residence. Conrad.

Using Joe Mendenhall’s driver’s license, I was able to get an address for him in Conrad. Harlan and I were anxious to drive out to Saint Mary and talk to the guy at the wild horse sanctuary, but we had to do this first in case Clay Peterson was on the move.

With the address in the GPS, we arrived at a ranch house on a landscaped lot on the west edge of Conrad.

“This is it.” Harlan was watching the map.

“Okay, let’s take stock. In the driveway we have two pickups, a black SUV with tinted windows and two Harley’s. Six minimum and maybe more. Possible eight men to deal with.”

“What are you thinking?” asked Harlan. “Can we take that many?”

“Only if we use the dogs.”

Harlan smiled. “Yeah, we can do it with Max and Sarge.”

I made sure my gun had one in the chamber in my waist holster, and I undid the snap on my blade sheath attached to my belt. “Get the taser out of the glove box. I don’t want you to have nothing.”

Harlan grinned.

I was teaching him to shoot, but he wasn’t there yet. Maybe a lesson from Annie on the weekend. An intensive session with her and he would be miles ahead of the locals.

I reached under the seat and pulled out my shotgun. “Now we’re ready.”

I hopped out, opened the back door, and let Max and Sarge out. I could feel Harlan’s adrenaline coming off him in waves as we walked to the front door.

“No knock.”

Harlan nodded.

I tried the door handle, and the door wasn’t locked. We walked silently into the foyer and listened for voices. I pointed. There was arguing coming from a room in that direction. A little meeting with the drug boss and we were right on time.

Going towards the heated conversation, I gave the dogs a signal to be silent and they were obedient. Always.

All the hollering seemed to be coming from the one room and that was best for us—to have them all in one place. The door was open, and I led with the shotgun.

“Everybody down on your knees, hands on your heads.”

I recognized no one but Clay Peterson slumped in a chair by the window. He hadn’t done much to recover from the beating I’d given him. If anything, he looked worse.

Two of the guys dropped down and assumed the position and with the help of Max and Sarge, Harlan cuffed them.

“This is unlawful,” said the guy behind the desk. Joe Mendenhall. “You’ve got no right to enter my house.”

“Fugitive recovery,” I said. “You and yours kidnapped myprisoner and I’m here to get him back. Simple. I’m a simple guy.”

Joe, the big boss, made his move, and it wasn’t unexpected. He pulled a gun from under his desk, jumped to his feet and pointed it at me. “Drop the gun, Sheriff.”