by S. L. Stoner
“Yah, they’re typical homesteaders but their place is out along the military road.”
Now it was Siringo and Sage who looked puzzled. “What does their place being along the military road have to do with sheep?” Sage asked.
“The military road investors have leased all their sections to the Kepler brothers for grazing. That means, the other sheep ranchers have to find new grazing land. If homesteaders like Fromm abandon their claims, then that land opens up for grazing until somebody else claims it,” Twill explained. “I’ve heard that their land has a year-around stream on it so that makes it especially valuable.”
“Hmm,” Sage said as a vague idea began percolating to the surface. He tried to reason it out, “Well, I know having water is crucial. Van Ostrand had me researching survey maps of that area. He wanted me to identify which sections had springs and streams. I guess he’s hoping to find somewhere to move his flocks,” Sage commented. Then the idea hit full force and with clarity. A rush of excitement flooded through him.
He jumped to his feet and said to the Irishman, “Say, didn’t you tell me that O’Dea was talking about starting his own homestead?”
“Aye, he said he’d filed a claim and would be working it by the end of the summer.”
“Don’t you need to put down money when you file a claim?
Somewhere around $450?” Sage asked.
Twill nodded but said nothing.
Sage pushed on, “So, where did O’Dea get the money to file a claim? Was he a great saver or did he inherit some money?”
Twill shook his head, his brow furrowing once again. “Yah know, I wondered on that at the time. Timothy lived a sober life. Every payday, he’d mail off a bank check to his mother in Ireland. There’s twelve brothers and sisters and his da is dead. The whole family is dirt poor. Timothy kept nothing back but a wee bit to pay for thus and such.”
There was no suppressing the excitement now. Sage glanced toward Siringo who was staring intently at Twill.
Sage asked his next question gently, knowing it might cause anger as well as pain. “Twill, do you think O’Dea got involved in a false land claim scheme?”
Sure enough the question brought a scowl to the Irishman’s face and a quick response. “Timothy O’Dea was a good Catholic boy! He was honest as a summer day is long!”
“But what if he got involved, didn’t know it was crooked and found out later? Would he have stayed quiet?”
Twill didn’t answer but instead said, “I’m unfamiliar with this false land claim stuff. Every blade of Irish grass is already owned. Has been for hundreds of years,” he said to Sage. “That’s why I’m here.”
This declaration sobered them. After a bit, Sage said, “Well, what I know is mostly about the timber barons. They pay people to file claims on forest land and then to lie—saying they’ve lived on it and worked it. Once they’re given title, they hand it over to the timber barons. They’ve been running that scheme in the Cascades for years. Lately, I learned that a sheep rancher up in Morrow County by the name of Bellingham, tried to use the same deceit in order to acquire grazing land.”
Twill looked puzzled, his fingers worrying his stubbled chin.
Sage raise his hands in exasperation.“Don’t you see? Maybe the same game is being played for grazing land in the Ochocos. Once a claim’s been filed, the claimant can lease out the land for grazing until he’s proved it up. Then he can sell it.”
“But there’s no way Timothy would have agreed to a lying scheme like that,” Twill protested.
Sage interrupted, “But, Twill, where’d he get the money to file on a homestead claim?” Before those words were out of his mouth, another thought struck Sage.
“Heney! U. S. District Attorney Heney’s here in Prineville. What if someone here in Prineville did the same thing as Bellingham?” Sage stood and started pacing.
He whirled to face Twill. “Let say you’re right and O’Dea didn’t know he was part of a land fraud. What would he do if he found out about it later? After he’d filed? What if the man who loaned him the filing fee later told O’Dea he’d have to give up the land for sheep grazing?”
Comprehension widened Twill’s eyes. “Yah know, something was bothering Timothy, now that I think on it. That last time I saw him, he was glum as he’d ever been.”
“What happened?” Siringo asked.
“He’d left for town, happy. Like air was flowing beneath his feet. I stayed behind with Felan and the sheep for company. But when Timothy came back, he acted like his heart was ‘all mad with misery.’ He wouldn’t tell me what happened. Just talked about maybe going home to Ireland.” That remembered last conversation sent sorrow washing across Twill’s face.
Sage held up a hand, index finger raised. “All right. Let’s assume that, while in town, Timothy learned he’d been used to defraud the government. You knew the man. You say he wouldn’t be a part of such a scheme. So, what would he do?”
The Irishman was silent, studying the toe of his worn boot before he looked up to say slowly, “Timothy was the kind of man who thought before he acted. Patient. He’d think things over before doing anything that could not be undone.”
Siringo picked up on Sage’s direction, “So, let’s say O’Dea learned that someone in town had made him part of an illegal scheme. Let’s also say that he was upset when he found out. That he confronted the man or maybe his reaction was easy to read. What then?”
That question brought Twill scooting forward on his stack of rounds. “You’re right!” he exclaimed. “Timmy’s face told you exactly what he was thinking. He said that’s why he never tried to play poker or tell lies.”
“Okay. Now the next question is what about Rayburn? Did he know O’Dea?”
Sage’s question brought a swift head shake from Twill who said, “Nope. Timothy barely knew Rayburn. And, he would have steered clear of him. Most of us did.”
“Rayburn sounds like he was an amoral scoundrel. Maybe he was involved in the land fraud,” Siringo said. “If O’Dea was tricked into filing a false claim, maybe Rayburn was involved.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Twill said. “But I know for a fact Rayburn was in town the night someone murdered Timothy and Felan. I told you,” he said, turning to Sage, “I was drinking with Rayburn that night.”
“Wait a minute,” Siringo interrupted, his tone a bit suspicious. “I thought you just said you steered clear of Rayburn. Why’d you spend the night drinking with him?”
Twill took no offense.“That night, it wasn’t my choice. Like I told John here, Dr. Van Ostrand and Newt Thomas insisted they treat us to dinner at the Poindexter. Afterwards, we went to the Reception Saloon and started drinking. The bosses were buying and well, we just kept on drinking.”
“Now just hold up a minute, something’s not making sense. I understand why Van Ostrand and Thomas would want your company but why would they want Rayburn’s?” Sage asked.
“You know, at first, I wondered that too. But after awhile, with the drink and all, I just stopped thinking about it. Maybe they had some kind of business deal.”
Something else clicked into place for Sage as he paced back and forth before his two companions. “Siringo, you told me that Rayburn was going to testify for the prosecution against Bellingham. You said he was involved in Bellingham’s land fraud scheme.”
“He was, on both counts,” Siringo affirmed.
“And,” here Sage paused in his pacing,“what if Rayburn got involved in another scheme here in Prineville? What if Heney came to town to talk to Rayburn about a second land fraud case—one involving Prineville men?”
Twill was nodding. “Until just a few days ago. No one here in Prineville knew that Rayburn was going to maybe testify against Bellingham.”
Siringo jumped in, having gotten the point. “Say you had an illegal land fraud scheme underway. Then you found out one of your co-schemers had already agreed to cooperate with the federal prosecutor in a similar land fraud trial. You’d be a
fool to trust him. Especially once Prosecutor Heney showed up in town.”
“So, when did Heney get to Prineville?” Sage asked.
“The exact same day Rayburn was murdered.” Siringo’s answer made them stare at each other.
Sage started pacing again, “So, let’s say we have Timothy who was tricked into defrauding the government over a land deal. We have Rayburn up to his ears in land fraud up north and ready to tell all to the federal prosecutor. And, we have Heney coming to town even though his star witness is already scheduled to travel to Portland in just a few days.” The ensuing silence firmly set the connections in their minds.
Sage said it aloud, “That’s the link between O’Dea and Rayburn. I bet you dollars to dumplings they were both caught up in the same land fraud scheme. And I bet you Heney is in town investigating it,” he finished with satisfaction.
“But, who’s behind it? Who tricked Timothy into filing a false claim? Who would be using Rayburn?” Twill asked, clearly struggling to put the pieces together.
Another realization smacked into Sage’s mind. “You know, Twill, I never saw Rayburn. What did the fellow look like?”
Siringo spoke to derail what he thought was a sidetrack but stopped when Sage raised a hand. “No, this is important, Charlie. Twill, what did Rayburn look like?” he asked again.
“Umm. He was fat. Short, maybe only five foot six.”
“Did he have black hair?”
“Aye. Black, usually greasy,” Twill answered.
“Did a hank of it sometimes curl down onto his forehead?” Sage asked, only becoming aware he’d been holding his breath when it whooshed out at Twill’s slow nod.
Twill and Siringo watched, puzzled, as Sage gave a yip of triumph, raised his fists like a prize fighter and kicked his boots out in an impromptu dance. Finally finished, Sage turned to Twill to ask, “Did you ever consider that maybe McGee died because he knew the shooter?”
Thoughtfully, Twill tilted his head to one side before straightening to shake it.
“I bet you were never given the opportunity to talk to any of those witnesses against me, were you?”
Again, Twill shook his head.
TWENTY NINE
The sweet smell of newly mown hay drifted through the stable. Not a forest mix of fir needles and wild berries—but still, it was pleasant. Sage missed the rain forest. But there was allure here too, he admitted. There was something uplifting in the sight of pure white clouds silently drifting above chiseled rimrock, golden hills and grassy valleys.
Sage studied his dusty town shoes. In the far stalls, Rocky and Gasper were contentedly munching. He’d greeted the old horses with pats on their long noses, happy to see them. Maybe he didn’t dislike all horses—just the ones who wanted to toss him tail over teakettle, as his mother would say.
Mae Clemens. If she were here, she’d insist there must be a safer way to trap the killers. But she wasn’t here. And, this plan should work. The loft’s trapdoor was closed but the padlock hung free of the hasp. When the time came, they could yank it open from above.
Federal Prosecutor Heney, Siringo and the stable’s owner waited up there. The shuffle and thud of the horses’ hooves on the planks would cover any noise they might make. The sheriff was not present. Siringo was adamant that Smith was untrustworthy since he was too friendly with the sheepshooters. Haney had reluctantly agreed.
Sage wondered about the outcome of their efforts. If they captured O’Dea and Rayburn’s killers today, how would that affect the range war? The shepherds and sheep ranchers might rest easier but it might fire up the sheepshooters. Maybe the irony of the situation would stun both sides into inaction.
Samuel Hamilton’s helpfulness had been a surprise. The livery stable trap had been Heney’s idea. Apparently it was the stable owner, not Rayburn, who had spurred Heney into visiting Prineville. When he and Siringo turned up at Heney’s hotel room early that morning, Hamilton was already there with Heney.
The stableman explained, shamefacedly, that he’d been a willing dummy claimant until his wife had “raised the roof ” upon learning of the fraud. His letter detailing the false claim scheme hit Heney’s desk the same day as another letter. The wife of The Dalles’ Chief Land Agent was signatory to this second letter. Her keen accounting eye caught a surge in claims along the military road in the Ochocos. She started checking and found that the same man had signed every bank draft covering the claim fees. That signer was the same man they now believed played a role in the killing of O’Dea and Rayburn.
The crack between the stable doors widened. Sage stood slowly, his hands relaxed and ready at his side. Twill slipped into the stable. “The Judas sheep has done his work. They’re both coming,” he said.
“Judas sheep?” Sage asked.
“That’d be a sheep trained up from a lamb to lead the other sheep down a chute,” Twill said as he pulled a length of hemp from his pocket and advanced on Sage. “You want to be sitting or standing?” he asked.
“I think sitting. That way I can loosen my feet fast,” Sage answered and promptly sat down, his back against the stall wall, facing the stable doors.
Twill bent over him.“I’ll be tying you with a half hitch knot. Keep tension on it until you need to drop it off. Otherwise, you’ll untie yourself before we’re ready.”
Outside a boot scuffed the boardwalk. Next came the hiss of two men in a whispered argument.
Twill looked at Sage. “I think that’s them,” he said, pulling a revolver from his waistband and pointing it at Sage. Seconds later, the stable door swung open and two figures slipped inside. “I don’t know why we had to meet you here,” Van Ostrand began in a querulous voice only to end with, “Oh,” when he caught sight of the trussed up John Miner.
Newt Thomas stepped forward to peer closely at Sage. “What’s this about, man?” he asked Twill.
Before the Irishman could respond Van Ostrand said angrily, “You should never have asked us to come here, McGinnis. You’ve made the situation impossible. You know what to do. You didn’t need us!”
Van Ostrand turned toward Thomas, grabbing his upper arm and steering him toward the door saying, “Come on. There’s been a mistake. This is none of our business.”
“Just a minute, Dr. Van Ostrand. To my mind, it ‘tis very much in the nature of your business. It’s you who convinced me that Miner here killed Timothy O’Dea. You’ve been saying he should feel the ‘blade of justice’,” Twill declared.
Thomas looked flummoxed even as Van Ostrand radiated anger hot as a roaring stove. For the first time, Sage studied the congressman. It appeared that he might not know what his partner had done.
“You don’t need us here to deal with Miner,” Van Ostrand snapped. “Surely you’ve fired a gun before. Just shoot him!” He again grabbed Thomas’s arm and began pushing the man toward the door, saying over his shoulder, “Just give us a few minutes to get on down the street.”
“No!” Twill responded. For the first time, anger colored his voice. “I’ll not be shooting him. I’ve never taken a life and I’ll not be starting now. You want Miner dead, you pull the trigger.”
“But he killed your friend O’Dea!” argued Van Ostrand. “You said you wanted revenge.”
Twill looked at Sage who’d remained silent the entire time. “Did you kill O’Dea?” he asked.
“No, sir. I did not kill O’Dea,” Sage said in a steady voice.
“He’s lying. He’s nothing but a lying drifter. I told you, I had someone check into him. He wasn’t in Portland. They saw him here, out near Gray’s Prairie. On the very day Timothy O’Dea was murdered. He deserves to die. Shoot him, shoot him now!” Van Ostrand shrilled as Thomas began to squeak in protest.
Van Ostrand whirled on him, “Shut the hell up! I’m tired of your weak ways. It’s time you got some backbone. Miner here could bring everything down on our heads. You want that Thomas?”
Twill, meanwhile, was shaking his head. “The problem to my mind is that I didn’
t talk to your witnesses. I don’t know them from Adam or Banquo’s ghost. But I did drink with this man, had some laughs with him. So, I am not going to kill him in cold blood. You want him dead, you shoot him.”
With that Twill tossed his revolver into a pile of hay near Van Ostrand’s feet.
“Get out!” the dentist ordered through clenched teeth. “I’m surrounded by a passel of cowards and fools,” he declaimed to no one in particular.
Twill and Sage exchanged a look. This wasn’t what they’d planned. Twill was supposed to remain in the stable, near Sage. Because Siringo and Heney figured Van Ostrand and Thomas might search the ground floor, they’d decided to hide in the loft, ready to rush down when called.
Van Ostrand scooped up Twill’s gun and pointed it at the Irishman. “Get out, I said. And you better forget you were here. Head out to Gray’s Prairie. I’ll meet you out there tonight,” he ordered.
Spying Sage’s minuscule nod, Twill shrugged before heading toward the door. Once the shepherd had passed outside, Van Ostrand barked at Thomas, “Bar that damn door.”
Thomas complied with alacrity, though his faced showed stunned confusion. Once the wooden bar had dropped into the brackets, Van Ostrand gestured Thomas toward the back of the stable. “Go back there and make sure all the other doors are barred. Check the stalls to see that no one is hiding in them.”
Sage felt a momentarily fizz of satisfaction that they’d accurately predicted Van Ostrand’s paranoia. Thomas would find no one. Then he noticed Van Ostrand staring at the planks above their heads. The dentist pulled back the hammer on Twill’s gun and aimed it up. Sage froze, knowing that the three men in the hayloft could not know that a bullet might soon smash through the floor beneath their feet.
He gathered a breath and was about to shout a warning when Thomas returned. “Every door is locked. No one is back there. Just two old, dozy horses,” he said. “Richard, what in the world are you planning to do?” Sage could tell the Congressman was fighting to sound calm. He’d been gone long enough to realize that his partner had turned rattlesnake dangerous.