The next morning, a green pickup truck with the Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks (FWP) badge slowly drove into the driveway of the Wyatt farm.
A tall, middle-aged white man with sun-bronzed skin got out of the car.
He was wearing a khaki uniform, with a gun and various gear hanging around his waist, but his expression was not serious, instead carrying a hint of rural charm.
"Wyatt, you troublemaker, got yourself into trouble again?"
The man stepped forward and shook hands with Wyatt, his tone like a tease between old friends.
"Thompson, this time it wasn't me causing trouble; trouble came to me."
Wyatt pointed toward the barn, "The bodies are over there, the video evidence is ready too."
It was none other than Tim Thompson, the senior enforcement officer of the FWP, and an old acquaintance who had worked in this area for nearly twenty years.
He nodded and followed the group of McKinley men to the barn.
