Another meeting in a town far, far away.

Well, okay, not that far. Under a hundred miles, which is close in this state.

A small group, with a variety of expertise, data and opinions. But all with a common goal:

Solving this puzzle.

Informal summations of this winter's incident of elk dying from lichen toxicity. When it started, when it ended, and why. Where they died, and what they all were. The results of the 19 necropsies, and fecal tests. The PhD candidate's lichen research.

Most of it we had all heard before, in bits and pieces in emails, phone calls, or pauses between meetings. But it was good to have it all in the same room, on the same table. With ideas proposed and pondered, and occasionally shot down in flames.

And most importantly, where do we go from here? And what do we do next time?

A good meeting.

Before setting out for home, our vehicle of four stopped for coffee in a convenience store set back from the main interstate businesses.

The gal behind the register recognized the uniforms, which is no surprise (the surprise would be any resident of this state that does not). And mentions a relative of hers used to be in the outfit.

We ask his name. And yes, he was known, although a generation before any of us got in the business.

As the others file out, I tarry to ask her name.

Turns out I knew her sister. From 20-some years back.

Our most notorious pioneer? One of the murderers who lynched Cattle Kate?

Used to stay with her grandparents when he came to town. After he had gotten himself thoroughly soused, they would lay him in the back of his wagon, and let his horses find their own way home.

All 50-some miles.

Apparently they knew the way.

Apparently he had something to forget.

As I squeezed into the back seat for our 93 mile ride home, I told the others about the woman behind us.

I love this state.

This small town with long streets.