Since he was already trespassing, Jarrett kept working his way through the milling cattle. Years of practice allowed him to keep from disturbing them very much as he got a look at as many as he could. The next few all bore a brand similar to the one Jarrett had already seen. A couple after that, however, bore another brand. This one was a lopsided M that was taller on the left. Three of them had brands that were too elaborate to be discerned without better light, and the next one he examined seemed much more familiar.
“What have we here?” he whispered as he touched the cow’s flank to trace the brand. “Do I know you, girl?”
He stood up a little straighter to take stock of the cows he’d examined, only to see that he’d worked his way through more than half of the animals being held in the pen. When he got a look at the next animal in the group, he found another brand that struck a chord in his mind. There weren’t many cows left in the pen that he hadn’t already seen, but three of them bore a brand he recognized.
Jarrett crouched down low so he was just barely seeing over the rump of the nearest cow. While there might not have been enough light for him to spot brands from a distance, he could be certain enough that he was the only thing on two legs in that pen. Knowing how severely the owner of such a place might deal with intruders, he kept his body low and his steps as quiet as he could manage as he made his way to the nearby building.
The back wall had a set of barn doors leading into the pen, and Jarrett wasn’t at all surprised to hear a lot more cows on the other side of that door. He tried to open it but could feel it was held in place by a latch on the other side. With a few harder pushes, though, the brackets holding that latch proved to have enough give in them to provide a narrow gap between the two doors. If he put some effort into it, he could possibly break the doors open. Rather than commit that particular crime after being in town for less than half an hour, Jarrett pulled the doors shut and took another quick look around.
There was still nobody else in the pen with him or anywhere in sight, for that matter. He could hear movement and voices from somewhere farther down the street, but the cattle were still relatively calm. Knowing better than to put too much stock in the mood of a bunch of dumb animals, Jarrett worked his way over to a small window left of the barn doors.
That window was positioned near the fence surrounding the pen. Several barrels were stacked nearby, most of them broken and on their side to form a heap of splintered wood and rusty hoops. Since getting close to that portion of the window would have been a noisy and possibly painful ordeal, he hurried to the fence and jumped over it to approach the other half of the window. He couldn’t get as close as he would have liked, but at least Jarrett wasn’t in a spot that would require so much explaining if he was discovered. For the moment, at least, that didn’t seem to be a concern.
As Jarrett walked along the fence, he moved as if he were taking a stroll to enjoy a warm evening. He stopped short of whistling a tune so as not to draw any attention once he got close enough to the side of the building to get a look through the window. The glass was smeared with mud and had enough dust on it to form a gritty shell. After cleaning a small section in one corner, Jarrett leaned over to see what there was to see.
Inside, there was beef packed from one side of the building to another. As far as Jarrett could tell, the place was one big room with a few lanes sectioned off by low wooden rails. He could see plenty of movement, which wasn’t much help. The glint of light coming through one wall, on the other hand, made Jarrett’s heart skip a beat. On the opposite side of the building from where Jarrett was standing, toward the front wall, a door had been opened. He couldn’t see the person who’d opened the door from his vantage point, but Jarrett had seen enough to know he’d overstayed his welcome. Even though the cows didn’t seem to notice him being there any longer, he wasn’t about to risk an introduction to the owner of that building. Having climbed onto the lowest rail of the fence so he could peek through the window, Jarrett lowered himself down and backed away.
Almost immediately, he was met by a stocky man holding a shotgun.
“What the hell are you doing there?” the man asked.
Jarrett smiled sheepishly. “I’m new in town. Must have come here by mistake. Sorry about that.”
“Sorry, huh? Not half as sorry as you’re about to be.”
Chapter 21
“Keep your hands where I can see ’em,” the man with the shotgun said.
Jarrett did as he was told and moved away from the window.
Balding and covered in dust, the man looked every bit like someone who’d spent the entire day working in a building full of cattle. His eyes showed anger, but no more than what was called for by the situation. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “And don’t give me no talk about you making a mistake!”
“It is a mistake,” Jarrett said. “Like I said, I’m new in town. When I got here, I was looking for a stable. This seemed to fit the bill, so I was just looking to have a word with someone who works here.”
“You found him, but this ain’t no stable where you can put your horse.”
“Do you have any idea where I might find such a place?”
The man’s eyes darted down to Jarrett’s gun belt, and his hands tightened around his shotgun. “You lookin’ to steal these cows?”
“What? No!”
“You a lawman?”
“Not hardly. I assure you, I’m just looking for a place to put my horse up for the night so I can get a hot meal and bed for myself. If you don’t have any recommendations, then I’ll be on my way.”
When the man’s shoulders came down from around his ears, Jarrett thought he might be in the clear. All too quickly, however, the man tensed once again. “Toss that pistol and let me get a look at you.”
Just then, Jarrett saw Lem and Ackerman come down the street. He waved to both men before immediately extending his hands even higher above his head.
“Who are they?” the man asked.
“They came with me.” Before either of the other two could say anything, Jarrett quickly added, “We’re just passing through. No need for trouble.”
Ackerman started to say something while reaching for the section of his jacket covering his badge, but Lem quickly stopped him with an extended arm. Once the deputy lowered his hand, Lem asked, “There a problem here?”
“They’re my friends,” Jarrett said. “And there’s no problem. This is just a mistake.”
Although Ackerman and Lem weren’t at ease, they were willing to hold their ground and see what happened next.
The man with the shotgun shifted nervously like so many of the cows penned nearby.
“I’m going to put my gun on the ground,” Jarrett said.
“Easy,” the man warned.
Jarrett removed the Colt using just his thumb and forefinger and set it near his feet.
“Kick it over here.”
Following the command he’d been given, Jarrett used one boot to shove the pistol away. His two partners became even more uncomfortable, especially when the man with the shotgun stepped forward to tap both barrels against Jarrett’s belly. “I’m gonna have a look beneath that jacket,” he said.
Jarrett nodded. “Be my guest.”
The man’s search was quick and when he was through, he stepped back. Lowering the shotgun slightly, he said, “Get out of my sight and don’t let me catch you snooping around here again.”
“I’m taking my gun back,” Jarrett said.
After taking a few seconds to consider that, the man nodded once. “Then be on your way.”
“Most definitely.”
The man with the shotgun left the Colt where it lay and backed toward the fence. He then watched all three of them like a hawk guarding its hatchlings.
Jarrett picked up his pistol and eased it into his holster. He then kept his hands out to either s
ide while backing away.
Unable to contain himself any longer, Ackerman asked, “You sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”
The deputy was itching to assert his authority, but at least he knew enough to ask before doing so. Jarrett nodded and told him, “No need for any help. I’m just taking my horse to a stable. I’m sure I can find one nearby.”
Some small part of Jarrett’s mind thought he might get the recommendation he’d wanted from the man with the shotgun. That part would have been dead wrong, because the man grunted once under his breath and walked around the building to get back to the open door that Jarrett had spotted through the window.
Still keeping his movements nice and slow, Jarrett walked over to the spot where he’d put Twitch and loosened the reins so he could lead the gelding away from the post. After moving an acceptable distance from the cattle pen, Ackerman asked, “What in blazes was the meaning of that?”
“We’re here looking for cattle,” Jarrett replied. “There’s a lot of cattle being kept here and it seemed prudent to have a look.”
“Was it prudent to wind up on the wrong end of a shotgun?” Lem asked.
“No. That part wasn’t very prudent.”
“Before we take another step, you need to tell me how that came about,” Ackerman demanded.
“Maybe I got a little anxious,” Jarrett said. “I admit that much.”
Lem shook his head. “That’s real big of you.”
The three of them walked along the side of the street. More people were appearing, but none of them cast a second glance at the town’s newest arrivals. They were more interested in getting to one of the saloons that were growing louder with every passing second.
Jarrett kept walking and made sure not to speak too loudly when he said, “I’ve heard some things about this town from plenty of the men who’ve come to work on my ranch over the last few years. One of the things that have been said was that stolen cattle or horses could be found right out in the open. When I heard what sounded like a good number of cows nearby, I had to take a look.”
“And why didn’t you ask us to come along?” Ackerman asked. “Aren’t we all supposed to be doing this together?”
“I thought I’d attract less attention if I went on my own.”
Jarrett had fully expected Lem to say something to that. Instead of providing a sarcastic comment, Lem merely laughed.
Seeing the disapproval on the young deputy’s face and not appreciating it one bit, Jarrett said, “You were content to follow our lead this far. If you think you can make better progress than us . . . go right ahead.”
Lem raised an eyebrow.
“What is it?” Jarrett asked. He might not have spent years with Lem, but he’d ridden with him long enough to know when he thought he had an ace up his sleeve. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
Nudging Ackerman, Lem said, “Go on and tell him.”
Jarrett scowled up at the young man. “Tell me what?”
Although he seemed mildly embarrassed, Ackerman couldn’t help puffing his chest out a bit when he said, “I found Roland Gein.”
“You met him already?”
“No. I said I found him,” Ackerman clarified. “I know where to go and when to be there.”
“Even better,” Lem added, “he arranged a meeting.”
“I could’ve done that,” Jarrett said.
“But it’s better coming from him,” Lem said while hooking a thumb toward the deputy. “No real chance of him being recognized.”
“I’m not exactly infamous, you know,” Jarrett said.
“Right. You’re just a successful rancher looking for stolen cattle. Considering how we just found you,” Lem said, “I’d say you’re doing real well with keeping from being noticed.”
As the sun crawled toward the western horizon, Muriel grew louder and brighter. Not only were lanterns lit in most of the windows facing the main road, but an old-timer in a raggedy brown coat walked down one side of the pathway to light torches that were stuck into the dirt. Not wanting to be heard by that old man or anyone else in the vicinity, Jarrett led Twitch to a restaurant advertising a cheap steak dinner special and leaned against a rail that was to be used as a hitching post.
“How’d you manage to find Gein?” Jarrett asked one of the men who’d followed him.
Ackerman climbed down from his saddle and secured his reins to the rail. “I was arranging for a place to put the horses up and someone asked if I wanted to sell them. I asked who was interested in them and he mentioned Gein by name.”
Now it was Jarrett’s turn to laugh. “And here I thought you’d gone through some kind of investigation.”
“Most of a lawman’s work is done by keeping his eyes and ears open,” Ackerman pointed out. “Did you have anything else better to go by . . . apart from knowing that Gein was somewhere in this town?”
“Yes,” Jarrett said. “But not much.”
“Hopefully you found something else. Otherwise we all just made a loud entrance into this town for no good reason.”
“I did find something. Some cows from my herd for starters.”
That brought the other two in a bit closer so they could speak in quieter tones. “You’re certain they’re yours?” Lem asked.
“I saw the brands myself.”
Ackerman’s eyes widened expectantly. “Then all we need to do is go back and get a few of them to prove they were stolen. By law, the owner of that stable will have to tell you where he got them.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” Lem sighed.
“The brand’s been altered,” Jarrett said.
Ackerman shook his head. “For all you know, it could just be a brand that looks similar to yours. I’ve seen the Lazy J’s mark. There must be plenty out there close to it in some way.”
“No. It’s my brand. It’s just been altered.”
“You’ve got to be completely certain about that,” the deputy warned. “Otherwise it won’t stand up in court.”
“I’m certain,” Jarrett said with absolute confidence. “I’ve seen more than enough altered brands to recognize another one. Especially when it’s mine in the first place.”
“There’s one man who’ll either know the truth of the matter for certain or be able to find out quickly enough,” Lem said.
Jarrett gave Ackerman a friendly pat on the shoulder. “And we’ve got an appointment to speak to him real soon.”
Chapter 22
There were only two saloons in Muriel. Each was situated on opposite ends of town from each other to divide what seemed to be a lucrative liquor trade. Between the locals, cowboys, and unsavory types drifting through, there were plenty of business opportunities for both places to stake their claim. One of the saloons was MacGrearey’s: a bar stuck in amid a collection of mismatched tables beneath a large canvas tent. Within seconds after stepping into the place, one big difference between that saloon and most others became plenty clear.
“No gambling?” Ackerman said as he read a sign posted behind the bar. “That’s mighty strange for a saloon.”
“You want to gamble, you go to the place on the other side of town,” Jarrett explained. “You want to buy the attentions of a woman for the night, you come here.”
“Sounds like you know a lot on the subject.”
“I’ve heard plenty about this place from the hands that have drifted through the Lazy J looking for work. Not all of them think of stolen cattle when they talk about Muriel.”
One of the many women in the saloon worked her way over to Ackerman. She was a tall redhead with ample hips and a dress that barely kept her covered. She smelled like vanilla and smiled with thick red lips. When she saw the nervous expression on the young deputy’s face, she moved over to Lem, who snaked one arm around her waist. “I can see why,” he said. “
There seems to be a whole lot more to this place than the cows that come through it.”
“You can say that again,” the redhead purred.
“Time for that later,” Jarrett said.
She looked over to him and asked, “You promise?”
It was a long time since Jarrett had blushed. Just having the voluptuous redhead look at him with her deep, hungry eyes was enough to do the trick.
Lem chuckled and swatted her on the backside. “He’s right. Business first.” Seeing the little pout she gave him, he added, “I don’t like it either, darlin’. That’s just the way it goes.”
She shrugged and walked away. As she passed Ackerman, she brushed a hand against his cheek and puckered her lips to send him a kiss.
“I see you’ve found something to your liking,” proclaimed a large man with a wide chest and an even wider belly. He was dressed in light brown clothes that seemed better suited to the desert than the rolling Wyoming trails. His head sprouted thick, dark curls from every possible angle starting at the chin, moving up to his ears and ending with a mop covering most of his scalp. As he approached the three new arrivals, he opened his arms as if he meant to embrace them all at once. “Welcome to MacGrearey’s!”
“Are you the owner?” Jarrett asked.
“Part owner. I take it this young fellow here is Mr. Ackerman?”
“That’s right,” the deputy said.
“I’m Roland Gein,” the wide man said. “I have a private table in back. Let’s have a seat and discuss business.”
When Gein turned to walk through the saloon, Jarrett followed him. Ackerman started to as well but was held back a few steps by Lem, who grabbed his arm and hissed, “You didn’t tell me you gave him your real name.”
“What name should I have given?”
“One that’s not attached to a deputy.”
“Too late now.”
“Let’s hope not,” Lem said while letting go of Ackerman’s arm. “For your sake.”
As they made their way through the crowded saloon, several of the girls drifted over to touch the men’s shoulders, brush against them, or even just smile in a way to let them know they were interested. As far as Jarrett could tell, every single one of them was interested. As soon as they made their presence known, they deferred to Gein and faded back into the crowd without otherwise disturbing the solidly built man.
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