Sagebrush Sedition. Warren J. Stucki

      Roper didn’t sleep well either. Somehow his stomach had transformed into a cauldron of hot bubbly acid, occasionally boiling over and rising up his tender esophagus. He had no one to blame but himself. Famished when he’d arrived home from the BLM meeting, he’d fried up some of Bucky’s sausage. It was surprisingly good, but now he was paying for it. In one way or another, it seems with Bucky you always paid for things twice. Roper was nauseous, gaseous and his throat burned like he’d gulped battery acid. Getting out of bed, he took a couple of Pepcids then climbed back in and once again began tossing and re-tasting the sausage.

      In lieu of sleep, his mind began resorting through the day. Roper didn’t quite know what to make of the meeting tonight. On the surface, everyone was cordial enough, except for Monty Coleman and Sean O’Grady, but he had gotten the feeling he was just being tolerated and most of the group would be happier if he weren’t there.

      Also, he didn’t quite know what to make of Judith Brisco. Superficially, she seemed to be pleasant enough and efficient, but not overly friendly. Obviously, she did possess leadership skills as illustrated by the way she handled the surly Monty Coleman and the hothead Sean O’Grady. On the surface, at least, she seemed fair.

      To her credit, she was a chess player; being a chess player she couldn’t be all bad. At that moment, Roper decided to play her. Probably he’d get slaughtered, but it wouldn’t be the first time. A few years ago he was a fair player, but he hadn’t played very much lately. Not much opportunity. While at Southern Utah University, he’d been a member of the chess club and once he’d even played a Russian Grand Master who was in town to speak at the university and ski at Brian Head. There had been nine of them in a big room, arranged in a large circle and each had brought his own chess board. Circulating from table to table, the Grand Master took only seconds to make a move then quickly moved to the next board. No, Roper hadn’t beaten him, but he had lasted through eleven incredible, though constantly harried moves. Actually, he was he last one standing.

      Games notwithstanding, there was no doubt about it, Brisco had a big job ahead of her and Roper for one, was certainly not envious. He wouldn’t trade her jobs for an outright warranty deed to the Fifty. Undoubtedly, she had people coming at her from every direction, politicians, bureaucratic superiors, environmentalists, recreationists, ranchers, miners, hunters, loggers, not to mention the day-to-day problems of managing her own staff. And to top it off, she had a presidential mandate to create a national monument where there was none. No, she could have that job all to herself and in the meantime, not knowing her background or any ulterior motives, he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

      However, on the other hand, he was pretty sure Sean and Monty were two characters on whom he’d best not turn his back. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he thought he might have known Sean from somewhere, another time or place, but the particulars escaped him. With his flaming red hair and cold hazel green eyes, he was a striking, though not a handsome man, one that if you’d met, you’d not likely forget. But try as he might, Roper couldn’t remember. Maybe it was nothing.

      Monty Coleman, however, he knew he’d never met, but he knew his kind, cold, calculating, amoral, the ends justify the means. In short, he was dangerous. As the range conservation officer, unfortunately Roper knew he would be dealing with him on a frequent basis. Hopefully, Brisco would soon hire another range con man, freeing Monty for full time law enforcement. That job appeared to be a better fit.

      Again, Roper got up, this time sorting through his medicine drawer for some Tums. There were none, so he went to the kitchen and mixed himself a cocktail of cold water and baking soda. Just then the phone rang.

      “Doug, is that you?” Ruby asked. She sounded far away and like she’d been crying.

      “Are you all right?” Roper asked, concerned.

      “Yeah,” Ruby sniffled, sounding congested, “just had a bad night.”

      “Do you want me to come over? I can be there in an hour.”

      “No, it’s okay, Doug, but it’s nice to talk to someone.”

      “Do you want to tell me about it?”

      “No, it’s just a personal thing. But I’m going to take care of it,” Ruby declared, her voice full of resolve.

      “Can I help?”

      “You are helping more than you know, just being my friend.”

      “Well, if you need anything,” Roper insisted, “just let me know.”

      “I appreciate that. Did I wake you?” Ruby asked more brightly, an obvious effort to change the subject.

      “Nope, got heartburn. Don’t know if it’s from Bucky’s sausage or the meeting I attended tonight,” Roper laughed, suppressing a burp.

      “Didn’t know you had a meeting.”

      “Yeah, monument manager Brisco asked me to represent the ranchers on an advisory committee she is setting up.”

      “Oh—did the ranchers ask you?”

      “Did the ranchers, ask me what?”

      “Did they ask you to represent them?”

      “Well, no.”

      “Well then, don’t take it for granted that you’re representing them,” Ruby said, then quickly added, “I’m sorry, Doug. I’m glad there’s at least one rancher on that committee, but all I’m saying is the other ranchers may not like it.”

      “I just hope I can make a difference,” Roper continued, somewhat defensive.

      “I hope so too. Anyway, the other reason I called is to see if you were still planning on helping me tomorrow with the brandin’?”

      “Yeah, if you’ll help me move cows in the afternoon.”

      “Can do. Where do you want to meet?”

      “On the Bench at the Cliff Trail,” Roper answered, yawning.

      “Thanks, Doug,” Ruby said. “Sorry, about that comment.”

      “Forget