“It should be,” Raymos added, “since two of them are in there.”

“We think,” Branson corrected her. “There are two of them in there. We’re still not sure how many of the little ass wipes we’ve got cornered yet. Ten days,” he sighed. “Ten days, and we still don’t know.” After thinking this over a moment, Branson took another sip from his cup, then nodded. “Continue.”

“The spokesman and lawyer for the militia in Cheyenne continues to claim that his group had nothing at all to do with the bombing. He stated that the members of the 5th Brigade are willing to cooperate with the investigation, but not while the Federal government continues to, quote, hold a gun to the heads of innocent patriots who have no other interest but to see justice meted out against those who violate God’s holy commandments, unquote.”

Snickering, Branson shook his head. “Gosh, where have I heard that before?”

Not knowing if this was a serious question, Raymos hesitated a moment before she tried to continue with her report. “I have an answer back on your inquiry concerning …”

Branson raised his hand and waved her off as he would an annoying child. “The rest can wait till after I get something to eat.” Looking past her, he caught sight of Kyle Millner, clustered with several of his people at the other end of the trailer. “Kyle,” Branson shouted above the noise of the trailer. “You ready to get something to eat?”

Millner raised his hand. “In a minute.” Then he went back to discussing whatever it was he was sharing with his fellow marshals.

While he made his way to the door, Branson looked around, noticing that something was missing. “Where’s all our friendly National Guardsmen?” Branson asked Raymos, who was following him to the door.

“Their colonel called this afternoon after you had left for your rounds, and informed their liaison officer that all members of the Wyoming Guard would eat at one seating at their own mess. According to him, when they tried to serve in two shifts those who ate with the second one were always getting cold meals. So Colonel Tinselly passed the word that they would all be served at the same time.”

“Great,” Branson roared. “Just great. Do me a favor, will you and check the patches on their BDUs the next time you see one of ’em. I want to make sure they’re on our side.”

Not sure if her boss was being serious or simply joking, Raymos simply smiled. “There is one more thing,” she added, almost as an afterthought, “that I really need an answer on.”

Pausing, Branson sighed. “Yes?”

“The Bureau insists that we hold another briefing for the media here, tomorrow if possible.”

Branson’s expression became tense. “Tell them that’s impossible since the Bureau has failed to provide me with a public affairs officer, as I have requested every day since I got here. Explain to them that I have neither the time nor inclination to answer insipid questions from a group of pasty faced liberals who get paid more for their looks than for their brains. Tell them that it doesn’t matter what I or anyone else out here tells them since their networks see absolutely no need to report what is actually going on, only what sells.”