Behind their two companions came the rest of the detail. Staff Sergeant William Lightfoot, the NCO in charge of the others, ambled in using the slow yet purposeful manner with which he did everything. His no-nonsense approach, a trait of his Nez Perce ancestry, made working with him a pleasure and earned him the nickname “Chief.” Following in Lightfoot’s shadow was the fourth member of the detail, Specialist Fran Meranno. Better known to everyone in her National Guard unit as “The Mouse,” Fran Meranno was a plain, soft spoken single mother of two who used her Guard pay to stave off creditors who always seemed to be camped out on her doorstep.

When all four of Kozak’s small detail were reassembled before her, Specialist West turned toward his companions. “The colonel here is an educated woman who’s been out and about in the world,” he began. “Let’s ask her what she thinks the chances are that the Feds are going to have their way and ship our boys off to California for trial.”

West’s statement was little more than a ploy meant to delay the start of serious work. In truth Kozak wasn’t much in a mood to do any more counting and moving of boxes and crates that day herself. With less than an hour to go before she’d have to dismiss them for the day, she saw no point in going on. The ammunition, she reasoned as she looked about quickly, would still be there waiting to be counted when they met to drill again.

Besides, Nancy was truly intrigued by what these men and woman thought about the current situation in Idaho. After all, they represented a far better cross section of the people of Idaho than the students and faculty of Boise State. It would be, she thought, refreshing to hear their opinions.

Smiling, she gave Sergeant Lightfoot a wink. “Well, seeing how we’re not going to be able to get on with the inventory until we resolve this earth shaking crisis,” Nancy announced in as serious a tone as she could muster, “let’s take a seat and see what everyone thinks about it.”

Sensing a postponement from the drudgeries of work, West smiled. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

Arranging themselves in a semicircle, each of the Idaho National Guardsmen followed Nancy’s lead and pulled a box of small arms ammo over to sit on. “I’m a relative newcomer to these parts,” Nancy announced as an introduction to the discussion. “So I’d like to hear your thoughts on the what’s been going on between the Federal government and its efforts to try the militiamen accused of the Wyoming raid elsewhere. Do any of you seriously think the Governor is going to become involved in defending the militia groups, and, by doing so, endorse the latest bombing of a Federal building?”