Idaho is a unique example of how local tensions in the Compact States were mediated by the complex web of political and social institutions. Despite the widely divergent public opinions about the states’ rights arguments underlying the Compact and the significant differences within and between regions, Idaho, for the most part, successfully navigated the political unrest with the least amount of separatist violence. The Rexburg Incident changed that. –Separate but Equal: a History of the Compact States; University of Washington Press
“What’s the news, Danny?”
Jeanette Stevens stood in front of the table with her coffee pot, smiling in her pale yellow uniform and frilly Daisy Diner apron. Jefferson County Sheriff Danny Spaulding tipped down his copy of this morning’s Rexburg Standard Journal, pretending he hadn’t watched her approach through the rows of tables and booths.
“Oh, hey there Peach.” Spaulding fumbled with the paper. Jeanette smirked. She topped off his cup and nodded to the front-page story about the Research Laboratory.
“You going out to the lab again today?”
He shook his head.
“Not planning to. Yesterday was hopefully the end of it. But you never know. Pain in the ass. I’m sorry again about yesterday.”
“Now Danny, they mean well. You’re not against being kind to animals, are you?”
Spaulding hesitated. “Well, Peach, no one wants any animals hurt, but you can’t go blocking up the gate and harassing people about it. Some of them got downright nasty out there. And the lab people took a bunch in and showed them around. Those dogs are very well cared for, what I heard.”
“I just hope everyone is being kind. We don’t want anyone thinking bad about our community. Most of them are from out of town.”
“That’s part of the problem, isn’t it?”
She stepped back in feigned surprise. “Oh, now look who’s ‘mister local’! Seems to me someone tried like heck to get as far as possible away from this place. Now you look down your nose at visitors?”
“Aww, Peach….”
“Just make sure everyone behaves. We don’t want any bad feelings.”
She concluded her rebuke with a dimpled smile and moved off to other tables, dispensing coffee along the way. Danny returned to his paper, smirking and shaking his head at the combat decorated veteran and law enforcement leader in the community being lectured about ensuring good manners.
Jeanette knew him too well. Despite being born and raised here, his time away had changed him as much or more than the region changed, and the community looked at him differently, too. He was a local, but his years abroad and the taint of outside ideas he brought back put him on the outside, and even his years as Sheriff hadn’t moved him squarely back into the inner circle, at least not yet.
He scanned the sports page, catching up on the high school teams. The perennial debate about BYU-I restarting the football program was in full swing again. Though rarely in open defiance of the decision by Church elders, the grumbling by old Ricks College alums and local athletes never stopped, and with the growth and success of the school, each year the drumbeat to bring back the sports teams grew louder.
He looked up at the sound of Jeanette picking up his empty plate.
“Did you read that thing about Cyrus and his fossil? He’s all worked up.”
Spaulding shook his head and flipped the paper around to find the local story about the fossil. The farmer claimed he found a bone out in his fields. The story seemed to blow it out of proportion with phrases like “rare fossil” and “missing link” from an unknown species. Seemed Cyrus was doing his best to drum up as much publicity as possible for his own reasons. Danny knew him from the occasional domestic disturbance visits out to his place near Mud Lake. Things had quieted down the last couple years since Cyrus’ wife Tracy finally got fed up and left him.
“Has he started tipping big?”
Jeanette smiled. “He hasn’t been in yet today.”
“I hope it’s all he says, for his sake. He could use a break. Sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t bring it all on himself.”
“Now, Danny, you can’t blame Cyrus for all his problems. He’s had a hard life. He and Tracy didn’t make a good match, is all.”
Danny knew what that was like. With a failed marriage of his own, he wasn’t one to judge. His divorce was more a product of youth and immaturity. Now, after a dozen years building this new life by himself, maybe it was time to try again. He found himself staring up at Jeanette, lost in her warm smile and twinkling eyes.
“Well now, what are you thinking about?” she asked with a knowing smile.
“Oh, I was only…”
His device beeped, cutting him off. He picked it up and tapped the screen.
“Oh, crap. Hold a sec, Peach.” He studied the message, then looked back up at Jeanette, all business.
“Gotta run. Guess I’ll need the check.”
“Something bad?” she asked.
“No, just the lab again. The animal protestors are getting another crowd together. More demonstrations, I guess.”
“You be nice.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter 10
Not I, nor anyone else can travel that road for you.
You must travel it by yourself.
It is not far. It is within reach.
Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know.
Perhaps it is everywhere – on water and land.
― Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
At 5:03 a.m. they crossed into South Dakota. The autopilot woke Michelle from her dozing.
“Entering the Sovereign State of South Dakota. South Dakota is a mandatory Opt In state. GPS locator is currently disabled. Continue disabled status?” Michelle rubbed her face and kept her voice low to not wake Adam.
“Continue locator disable,” she directed. Welcome to the Sovereign States. Despite the lull in the political strife of past decades, resentments lingered, punctuated by the occasional bombing and variations in restrictions and regulations between jurisdictions. The libertarian impulse still ran strong, and the Privacy Law push back against the national surveillance networks resulted in another layer of annoyance. Tink handled most of it.
“The lethality setting for Sparky may exceed local legal limits. Recent South Dakota regulations and caselaw are ambiguous. Keep that in mind if you are considering its use,” Tink advised after the autopilot.
Michelle patted her purse. “Understood. Thanks, Tink.”
After a few hours of watching the landscape emerge in the morning light while Adam slept, on impulse Michelle decided to stretch their legs with a detour to the Badlands National Park. A short drive off the interstate on a two-lane state road lead to the nearly empty visitor parking lot.
Adam cooperated with the change out of his pajamas next to the car. They stood at the overlook, taking in the desolate landscape, the steady breeze riffling the long grass around the asphalt island. A shiver drove Michelle toward the Visitors Center to look for a bathroom.
Michelle led Adam inside and they saw a Park Ranger pushing a bucket and mop out of the women’s room. They approached and she looked up.
“I just cleaned that one. You can both use it, there’s no one else here.”
“Thanks. We’ve been in the car for a while.”
When they emerged from the restroom the ranger was nowhere to be seen.
Michelle meandered through the exhibits of ancient fossils and diagrams of the gradual geologic changes that transformed the surrounding landscape, fascinated by the story of change and transformation. A voice on the other side of the displays interrupted her reverie, and she noticed Adam wasn’t with her.
She stepped out and saw Adam standing with the ranger at the panoramic window overlooking the eerie sculpted terrain. She hurried over.
“…and all this was water, filled with swimming dinosaurs and other creatures. You can see some fossils of them over there. Then the seas dried up, the land rose, and turned into forests and prairies, and other creatures evolved and lived on the land, and we have some of those, too.” She gestured out over the vista, then back toward the displays. She gave Michelle a knowing smile. Adam’s gazed was directed outside, but he remained calm, soothed by the cheery banter of the friendly ranger. Michelle joined them at the window.
“All of those came from here?” Michelle asked, hooking a thumb over her shoulder toward the displays.
The ranger bobbed her head. “Yup. Some of them were found by park visitors. See that one?” The ranger pointed at a skull in a display with vicious long curved teeth.
Michelle nodded. The ranger continued. “It was found by little girl just down one of the paths. We have all sorts of programs for learning about and finding fossils. Are you guys interested?”
“Oh, no, we’re just passing through. But that is so amazing.”
“It is. I love this place. Fossils galore, right under our feet.”
“It’s crazy you have all the different kinds, ocean dinosaurs and the giant, what are they? The double horned rhino things?”
“Brontotheres.”
“…all right here.”
The ranger grinned. “Evolution all around us.”
Michelle thanked the ranger, and seeing how attracted Adam was to the moonscape outside, Michelle led him to one of the trails leading from the Visitor’s Center. Soon, they were surrounded by the towering stone hoo-doos and jagged knife ridges, the trail following a gully eroded into the rock. They were immersed in silence, broken only by the wind moaning softly through the crevices. The early morning light created stark shadows highlighting the subtle banding of the sedimentary layers in the rock. Michelle suppressed a chill, the light and sounds evoking ghosts of people long gone, and the feeling they were watching them pass through. Not threatening, just a presence, as if saying ‘we once roamed these lands.’
They walked together unhurried, Adam submitting to occasional guiding pulls on his hand. He stared at the complex geometries of the landscape, studying intently. Sometimes he would stop, then slowly turn in a circle taking it all in. Michelle looked on, savoring the peace of his rapture.
The captivating scenery was utterly unfamiliar, an alien environment nestled right next to ordinary grasslands and plains, the complex geology and secret history hidden just beneath the surface of the rolling prairie.
They walked for a while. Michelle’s hunger prompted her to turn them back toward the car.
Adam resisted and negotiations ensued. He finally relented. Once back on the road, the signs for Wall Drug started appearing every few miles. Lured in like most tourists, Michelle pulled off the interstate at the exit for Wall, South Dakota. As they hit the ramp, a giant green concrete dinosaur off to the right held Adam’s attention.
Michelle took control of the car and they cruised through the little town, drove past the Wounded Knee Museum and a bunch of gas stations. The breaks between the small buildings kept drawing Michelle’s attention, the enormity of the landscape erupting in the gaps, vast expanses of blue sky stretching to the distant horizon. It made Michelle feel small.
Her gawking caused them to miss the turn for Wall Drug, ending at the edge of town by the railroad tracks, riveting Adam’s attention. All large machines were a reliable source of fascination for him. Michelle backtracked and followed the signs, then parked the car next to Wall Drug.
Inside, a few people wandered the aisles, but the jumble of merchandise was enough stimulation to make Adam restless. She steered him to the cafeteria, and they ate an early lunch. While she paid the bill, Adam wandered away and Michelle scrambled after him. The ubiquitous jackalope images and models seemed to disturb him, and he kept turning down aisles to get away from them. Michelle momentarily lost him in the maze of toys, souvenirs, and Native American merchandise.
She turned a corner and found him standing, almost bewitched, in front of a giant plastic T-rex, advertising various fossil souvenirs. The surrounding Badlands were renowned for significant fossil finds. Adam stared at the dinosaur, swaying, hands fluttering, moaning softly. Michelle took his hand and gently tried to lead him back to the car, without success. She let him stand a while longer.
She noticed two curious children walking by, staring at Adam, with a thinly concealed fascination. It was a reaction she was used to, but still hated.
Look at the weirdo, what’s he doing?
Why doesn’t she just make him go away?
It was infuriating, but she knew saying something usually made things worse. She gritted her teeth and ignored them. Michelle took his hand again and this time he followed.
They exited the store, and immediately Adam pulled away, walking in the opposite direction of the car.
“Adam! Come back here! We’ve got to get going!”
Michelle trailed after him as they zig-zagged through the little checkerboard town, until they ended up back by the train tracks, Adam’s goal all along.
They stood at the edge of a switching area, multiple rail lines in parallel, with isolated links of freight cars parked along sidings. In the distance, a rhythmic rumble announced the lumbering approach of a locomotive and Adam watched, standing disconcertingly close to the tracks. Michelle held his hand, pulling him backward, but Adam resisted, rooted to the spot as the train rumbled by. It rode on rails four rows in, and Adam stepped out onto the tracks to get closer. Michelle looked both ways, and, seeing no other trains, allowed him to step across two sets and stand in the middle of the third row, near the passing train. It was interesting to her that he seemed to enjoy the low frequency rumble of the giant mechanical monster more than he hated the general overstimulation. Three engines in tandem growled by, followed by an interminable chain of freight cars. The rhythmic click-clack of the steel wheels and the squeaks and yelps of the swaying freight cars mesmerized Adam as he swayed in time with them.
The smell of the creosote, the shimmering heat off the rail bed, and in particular a strip of fresh ballast, an almost blue path of sharp rocks stretching off in a curving line to the horizon, all combined with the rumble to create an immersive sensory collage that she enjoyed as much as Adam seemed to.
Her daze was broken by a loud horn off to their left, and she was startled to see a second train bearing down on them from the opposite direction. Her hand tightened on Adam’s and she pulled him, to no effect. She noted the coming train proceeded implacably on a different track from where they stood, the one closest to the edge behind them. It would pass safely, but temporarily strand them in the middle, cut off by trains in front and behind.
She stepped up behind Adam and put her arms around him, and he accepted the restraint. She tightened her grip as much to protect him as to calm herself, hypervigilant to hazards from both directions, her head swiveling back and forth, scanning. The big train continued, then the second rolled past behind them, engine roaring. The engineer of the second train gestured at them, shouting. Michelle waved back with a nervous smile, her heart hammering, eyes on the tracks to ensure no other trains approached.
Mercifully, the second train was short and it soon passed, followed by the end of the big train. She released Adam from the bear hug, let out her breath and reached down for his hand.
“Let’s go, bud. Let’s get in the car.” She led him back to the car, legs still twitchy with adrenaline. She buckled him in and then maneuvered through the town streets back to the interstate.
Adam became agitated again, moaning and flapping. She looked out his window, and the giant green dinosaur out by the highway peaked between the buildings.
Adam’s distress increased, and Michelle heaved a sigh.
“You want to see the dinosaur? Okay, last thing. Then we get going, okay? Last thing.”
She drove toward the interstate, then out the little access road up to the base of the giant green sauropod. Up close, the paint was chipped, with cracks in the concrete legs, but it still retained enough of the original color and details to be impressive. Adam gazed calmly up at the concrete creature. Michelle was impressed by its tacky grandeur and the effort that went into constructing it. Adam leaned against the fence at the base, fingers laced through the chain link, craning his neck upward. She waited a long time, listening to the wind in the grass and the passing vehicles out on the road.
She glanced down at her watch.
“Oh, shit.” How had they managed to burn so much of the day away? She pulled him back to the car and they went directly to a service station. The attendant approached while Michelle puzzled out the pumps.
“What’s the drive like through Yellowstone? Is it pretty?” Michelle asked.
The old man in bib overalls and a dirty John Deere baseball cap held the pump nozzle up to the tank. He gave her a snaggle toothed smile.
“Well, sure it is, during the day. If you leave now, you won’t see much. It’ll be dark before long.”
Michelle mentally kicked herself. Of course, they wouldn’t see a thing, but comparing it to what the autopilot suggested, it still seemed like the fastest route. She looked up at the man.
“What’s the road like?”
He shook his head.
“The road’s fine. They keep it up good because of all the tourists, and at night there won’t be much traffic. But it ain’t other cars you should worry about.” He looked at Michelle’s little hybrid and raised his eyebrows. She cocked her head quizzically.
“You hit an elk going eighty in this thing, and let me tell you, miss, the elk’s going to win. Or a moose, or a deer, or a bear. There’s some big critters out there. You get my drift?”
“Oh….” Michelle chewed her lip and thought about it. They had to get to the school by tomorrow. “How far to Rexburg, Idaho?”
“Going straight across? You drive fast, go straight through, you probably could get there in 10, maybe 11 hours. You dilly-dally, longer.” Michelle looked at the old wall clock, then the sun.
“Look, I’ve really got to get there by tomorrow morning. What do you suggest?” Maybe this man had current local knowledge that would overrule the car’s planned route, what looked like a longer way.
The old man pushed his cap back and rubbed his neck, squinting at the car, then off to the west, as if looking down the road for possible obstacles.
“Well, if you’re absolutely dead set on going now, I’d say stay on the interstate, on 90 all the way up through Billings, then Butte, then take 15 down into Idaho. That goes right to Rexburg. You still might see some wildlife, but the road is straighter. They have those sensors all over the place for the longhaul trucks. That’ll be safer. It’s longer, but you could go faster to make up the time. All your radar workin’?” He leaned down, hands on his knees, and peered at the grill.
Michelle nodded. “I guess. Seems to be fine.”
He wiped at a few spots along the front bumper, then straightened up and chuckled. “Sure it does, long as you keep those sensors clean and you don’t mind lettin’ the computer do your thinking for you.” He shook his head and laughed again. Michelle smiled at the irony of the man confirming the computer’s recommendation. Still, she wanted to know what Tink thought.
They pulled out of the gas station and headed to the on-ramp. “Tink, what’s the problem with going through Yellowstone?”
Before the AI could respond, a police car pulled behind them, lights flashing, and the siren gave a single whoop. Michelle’s body clenched in an anxious spasm while she pulled over.
Now what?
The policeman approached her window.
“What can I do for you, officer?” Michelle offered hopefully, concealing her unease.
“Hello, ma’am. I got a call from the folks from Wall Drug about a shoplifter, and the description from their security cameras fit you and your friend there. Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding, but I need you to step out of the car.”
Michelle’s mind whirled. She looked over at Adam, who stared out the window, impassive. She looked down at his hands and saw he clutched an object, almost concealed. She reached over and uncurled his fingers to reveal a red and orange plastic T-rex.
“Oh, Adam.”
“Miss, can you…”
“I’m coming.” Michelle unbuckled and got out of the car, digging into her pocket for her I.D. She concealed her press credential and handed the officer her driver’s license.
“I think I know what this is about. It looks like my brother took a small toy. He’s autistic and doesn’t speak. I’m happy to pay for it.”
Michelle’s intuition immediately assured her this policeman presented no threat. He was on the young side of middle age, and she noted the subtle eye movements of his visual probing, eyes flicking up and down her body, over at Adam, around the car, and she automatically adjusted her posture, the angle of her head, hands on her hips, turning slightly toward him, reciprocating his visual sniffing by presenting herself with just enough receptiveness to redirect his attention. The visual cues she sent were enticing, but he would not even be aware he was responding to them. Her friends teased her about her flirting skills, powerful tools when extracting information from the unwilling, or handling people with undesirable agendas.
The policeman called back to the store, and after a few brief sentences, he turned back to Michelle.
“The folks at the store say don’t worry about it, and they apologize for the misunderstanding. Where are you off to?”
“Driving to Rexburg. Going to try and make it all the way tonight.”
“Well, you be careful, and thanks for visiting Wall.”
She settled into the car as it accelerated onto the interstate, letting out a huge breath of relief. That ended well, luckily. Not like some other times. The frantic searches in public places. Taking her eyes off him for one second to talk to a friend, buy something, look away for whatever reason, and he was gone. Usually, the police were friendly and helpful, sometimes not.
***
When she was in middle school, she and her friends embarked on an adventure wandering the Loop, looking at stores with her friends, taking turns holding Adam’s hand, peering into restaurants and bakeries, pretending to shop, people watching. One moment, Adam slipped away and darted into traffic. Serendipitously, a checkertop saw it happen, saw the truck bearing down on Adam, and he stepped out to shield him. The truck stopped in time, but the cop dragged Adam back to Michelle, furious.
“Keep a hand on your fucking retard brother!” he screamed into Michelle’s upturned face. Crushed with shame, she cried all the way home, and when her parents finally got out of her what happened, her mother flipped. Months of emails, phone calls, letters and complaints to everyone in city government, without result.
“He saved your son’s life. What are you complaining about again?”
Michelle stewed in shame. Later, when she began uncovering misconduct as a journalist, exposing dirty cops gave her a special thrill of satisfaction and fear.
***
“Okay, Tink, our route. What do you think about the autopilot recommendation?”
“Yellowstone is the most direct route, but also has less automation infrastructure and has an increased risk of unexpected hazards. The longer interstate route will you allow you both to sleep, and you will still arrive in Rexburg before your appointments tomorrow morning. I concur with the autopilot.”
“Thanks, we’ll do that.”
She closed her eyes and tried to relax. Adam fidgeted with his stolen toy. The motel, the detours, the store, almost dying in the railyard, the cop: this was a perfect summary of her life with Adam.
A calm certainty settled over her. This was absolutely the right decision for Adam, and especially for her.
She’d stay on the highway.
Robert Wack 