by Gwen Moffat
‘You were told the stud was to come to Val?’
‘Ah-h.’ He spun it out. Blinking at him like a distressed owl, she imagined she could hear the brain working, the wrong cogs catching. ‘What Charlie said was “her”. I took him to mean Val. Maybe he meant Jen after all. Maybe he intended me to be confused. He loved his joke.’
Miss Pink gave a girlish giggle. ‘As if it matters beside the money.’ She glanced at Ali carelessly. ‘He’s worth a few thousand, certainly, but there are millions to be divided…’
He grinned and the piebald walked on. It was a few moments before she remembered that her mission had been to detain him until Skinner had left the homestead.
*
‘No, they didn’t meet,’ Val assured her on her return. ‘You kept him away long enough for me to get rid of Paul. Actually, I misjudged that guy’ — she gave an odd little laugh and continued with a delicacy at variance with her usual manner — ‘that old scandal was all Charlie’s doing.’
‘So I understood.’
‘I mean, the suggestion that Paul had some kind of relationship with Jen. That’s as wild as the lie that Paul’s her father. Paul suspected something when he met Bret one time in Ballard and Bret said him and Jen were married. Paul wondered why Bret acted kind of familiar. He knows now, of course. Incidentally, it was Paul who confirmed that Ali was to come to Jen. Byer told him.’
*
‘So how did it go?’ Sophie asked, placing a bowl of clam chowder before her guest. ‘Were you able to talk to Byer?’
Miss Pink described her morning. ‘I didn’t find out what Byer has on Val,’ she admitted, ‘but I’m certain Ali is the price he’s asking to keep quiet: the stallion rather than cash. He tried to confuse me by pretending he wasn’t sure who owned Ali now but he’d let slip that Charlie had told him the horse was to go to Jen. Val says Byer told Skinner, which makes those two rather friendly, doesn’t it: Byer and Skinner?’
Sophie grimaced. ‘Cronies rather than friends. Vultures more like: looking for pickings. What was Skinner doing at the homestead anyway? If Val didn’t want those two to meet it wasn’t because they’d fight but because she wanted Skinner on his own, find out something. Did she say anything about meeting Charlie at the hunting camp?’
‘I put it to her that she went there to confront her father. She didn’t deny it. She was insistent that Jen didn’t go there. As for her needing to talk to Skinner alone, she says she’s misjudged him, that there was no illicit relationship with Jen.’
‘Well, he’s not going to admit it, is he?’
‘True.’ Miss Pink reverted to the subject of the stallion. ‘Byer said he’d put in an offer for Ali —’
‘He’s not for sale.’
‘Calling it a sale would be the cover. Neither Byer nor Val could admit that the horse changed hands as blackmail payment. I was intrigued that Byer should be blackmailing Val instead of Jen, but I concluded that Byer’s banking on Val buying Ali from Jen, then turning the horse over to him, or —’
‘Or what?’
‘That Jen will give up the horse when Val tells her about the blackmail.’
‘Jen would never —’ Sophie checked. ‘You think Jen did go to meet Charlie, don’t you?’
‘I’d like to talk to Byer again. I think he was there, at the hunting cabin. What did Sam have to say?’
‘Nothing. That is, he didn’t go after Jen and she didn’t come back to Benefit so he went home. He says he’ll have a word with Bret when he starts work. You talk to Sam, you wouldn’t think there was any urgency; things will work out, is his style.’
The telephone started to ring. Sophie picked up the receiver, listened, gasped, ‘What?’ and the blood drained from her cheeks. Miss Pink moved quickly, pushing a chair towards her as the woman put out a hand to the sideboard.
The person at the end of the line clacked on, stopped, asked a question. ‘She’s here,’ Sophie said in a small voice and held out the instrument to Miss Pink, but by the time she’d put it to her ear the line was dead. She frowned, shook the receiver and got the dialling tone. Sophie started to giggle on a rising note.
Miss Pink said coldly, ‘This is where I slap your face and you collapse in tears. Don’t make me do it. We’re grown women.’
The giggling stopped. Sophie allowed herself to be steered to the sofa and pushed down on the cushions. Miss Pink found the brandy and brought stiff drinks for both of them.
‘It was just that I didn’t think Charlie had any shoulders left,’ Sophie explained with terrible gravity. ‘There’s a bullet track in his shoulder, apparently, the pathologist says. I guess if you’re used to gunshot wounds it would show even given the state he was in.’
‘Drink your brandy.’
‘Ah, Melinda: priorities in the right place as usual.’
‘Who were you talking to?’
‘Why, Val of course. The police are on their way.’
‘On their way to where?’
‘To see her. To arrest her?’ The tone was mildly curious.
‘No. If they connected her with foul play they wouldn’t tell her in advance. They’ll be thinking in terms of accident — as we’ve been doing all along, but now with the addition of a gun. He shot himself by accident.’
‘Actually Val did say, “They’ve warned me so I can’t be a suspect.” The girl’s realised they’d be thinking in terms of murder. We’ll have to get our stories straight.’
Miss Pink opened her mouth and closed it again.
‘There’s Jen,’ Sophie said. As if anyone needed reminding. She traced rings on the table with her glass. ‘Jen doesn’t shoot,’ she went on, reddening under Miss Pink’s stare. ‘You know, I think Val said the police said it only looks like the track of a bullet, not that it is a track.’
‘That makes more sense, given the condition of the remains. And no one’s said they heard a shot.’ Miss Pink sat up. ‘This is ridiculous. The man was dragged to his death. Even if a shot had been heard there’s nothing to say it wasn’t a poacher. Or a hunter after coyotes. When are the police seeing Val?’
‘Now — this afternoon. We’ll be there, give her support. It’s my ranch, they’re not to know I don’t spend all my time there. You’ll have come with me for the ride.’
‘Why did they contact Val? Edna’s the next of kin.’
‘That’s easy. If the guy in charge doesn’t know the family, he knows of us. Edna’s old so Val’s better suited to take the news. Probably tried Clyde but he’ll be at Glenaffric. What the police have in mind, they’ll be picking up Val on their way to see Edna.’ It was a firm statement, spoiled by the qualification: ‘Don’t you think?’
10
There were no strange cars at the homestead, only one pick-up visible and no sign of the piebald or Byer, which could be significant. Val, looking haggard and breathing liquor fumes, saw Miss Pink looking around and said harshly, ‘I didn’t have to send him packing; all I did was mention the police and I couldn’t see him for dust.’
‘He could have a record.’
Val’s eyes sharpened. ‘I never thought of that.’
‘We’d better be doing something,’ Sophie broke in impatiently. ‘Business as usual; we don’t want them to see us in a huddle when they arrive.’
They came in an unmarked car. They were in plain clothes and they were both lieutenants. Tension was racked up a notch in view of their rank, although there was marginal reassurance in their appearance. A heavy older fellow in stained Stetson and shades, his jowly face flushed with the heat, and a younger man: sleek, with an expensive haircut and a carefully tended moustache. They both wore Levis but where the boots of the older man were worn and scuffed, the younger sported a dashing pair in grey snakeskin.
The older man, Hilton — no Christian names were offered — steered Val to the porch where they were visible but their conversation was inaudible. The youngster, Cole, stayed to chat to the older women. He talked ranching in an amateur fashion, concentrating on So
phie but occasionally including the English visitor with a warm smile. Miss Pink returned the smile. He confessed that he hadn’t been riding long and confided his ambition to take the trail through the Black Canyon.
‘That’s no place for beginners,’ Sophie said sternly. ‘You have to gain experience elsewhere, like on the Bobcat Hills. And you’ll need a steady horse for that trail; there are some nasty steep places above the Thunder river.’
‘But you take the dudes in there, ma’am.’
‘Not me. My niece does, but her clients aren’t beginners and our horses are carefully selected. I’d never put a dude up on a horse I didn’t know was steady as a rock.’ Sophie’s eyes strayed to Ali, grazing in a paddock beyond the corrals. Miss Pink saw that the police had talked to other people before they came to the homestead; someone had told them that dudes were taken through the canyon. On the other hand it could well be public knowledge.
‘So you must be an expert rider, ma’am.’ Cole favoured Miss Pink with his boyish charm.
‘You flatter me, Mr Cole.’
‘You were there when Charlie Gunn’s horse spooked, right?’
‘Who’ve you been talking to?’ Sophie was furious.
‘Not when he spooked,’ Miss Pink put in smoothly. ‘Some time afterwards. Although we’d seen the pack-horse —’ She stopped.
‘Yes, ma’am? You saw the pack-horse — when?’
The women exchanged glances. ‘The day before the search,’ Miss Pink said. ‘And that would be the day after Mr Gunn went to the cabin.’
Cole turned to Sophie. ‘So he’d have been dead when you saw the pack-horse?’
She blinked, bewildered by the changed tone of the interview, for interview it was and no longer idle chat about ranching and learning to ride. She looked away for relief and fastened on Ali in the paddock. ‘It could have been there a while,’ she admitted.
‘This is the same horse?’
She was astonished. ‘This is a stud! He was my brother-in-law’s saddle-horse, the one that threw and dragged him.’
‘Really? He looks quiet enough now.’
‘He’s settling nicely.’ She was grudging. ‘He’s a horse likes women better than men. Can’t say I blame him.’
‘He was badly knocked about and confused,’ Miss Pink butted in, trying to keep the record straight. ‘He’ll be quiet for a while, till he recovers from the trauma.’
Sophie looked startled but she was silent as the message sank in. She should watch her words; she spoke her mind without considering the consequences, a trait that seemed to run in the family. Uneasily, and without glancing that way, Miss Pink wondered how Val was faring with the senior partner.
‘How was it you didn’t see the horse when you were having your picnic by the lake?’ Cole asked. ‘That was where you found him next day, wasn’t it?’
Miss Pink’s heart sank. Whom could they have been talking to? ‘We were low down,’ she said. ‘The stallion was higher, and further on — if he was there at all when we were eating our lunch. He could have wandered about. But there’s timber and boulders back there, the kind of country you could hide a herd of horses.’
‘He didn’t neigh when he saw your animals.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘If you know, why ask?’ Sophie was losing it but he was unperturbed.
‘There’s a lot we don’t know — like the state of the cabin when you were in there. You’d have been the first people inside after Mr Gunn left. What sort of condition was it in?’
Sophie hesitated. Miss Pink tried to remember whom they’d talked to about the state of the cabin. Sophie was hesitating too long, transfixed by Cole’s stare. ‘Was it locked?’ he prompted.
Sophie swallowed visibly. ‘Yes,’ Miss Pink said. ‘Val — Mrs Jardine and I were the first people there after the body was found. We went down for blankets to wrap it in. The cabin was locked. We didn’t see any significance in that. The pack-horse had been standing outside, ready to go. We assumed Mr Gunn had seen a bear at that moment and gone after it. What other explanation could there be? There were signs of bear about — in fact, that was why he went there in the first place: to repair the roof where a bear had tried to break in.’
He regarded her shrewdly, as if well aware that words could be used as a smokescreen. He might be ignorant where horses were concerned but this was no callow youngster. ‘And inside?’ he asked.
‘There was nothing remarkable about it. Obviously he’d packed up ready to leave — and then the bear appeared.’ Now she saw a flaw in that theory, moreover Cole had seen it too.
‘But the horses, this horse’ — he gestured towards Ali — ‘he didn’t spook.’
The women shook their heads mutely. Sophie had seen the flaw too. ‘But he spooked the other time,’ Cole pointed out, ‘the time he threw his rider.’
Miss Pink said, ‘Possibly on the second occasion the bear was very close, whereas he’d been in the distance when Mr Gunn started after him.’
‘Of course. It must have been a shock when you ladies came on the body.’
‘Not really,’ Miss Pink said. ‘We found the stallion first, the saddle under its belly, so we were forewarned. We knew then that Charlie — Mr Gunn — was unconscious at the very least, probably badly injured. The state the body was in was a shock, of course, although not when you come to think about it.’
‘Easy enough done,’ Sophie said. ‘The foot slips through the stirrup when a guy is thrown.’
‘Funny thing,’ Cole mused. ‘The bear never came near the pack-horse and he couldn’t run. How do you explain that?’
Sophie shrugged. ‘He did eventually: broke his halter and ran home.’
‘Where did you find his rifle?’
She blinked. ‘Charlie’s rifle? We didn’t find it.’
Miss Pink asked chattily, as if overcome by curiosity, ‘Who’ve you been talking to, Mr Cole? You know more about it than we do.’
‘We have to speak to everyone; what one guy forgets the next one will remember, right?’ Their eyes moved and he stiffened. ‘Maybe I’ll ride in those Bobcat Hills,’ he said. ‘Get some experience.’
Hilton was approaching. Behind him Val came down the steps and crossed to the barn.
Hilton looked benign, his flush subsided. He nodded at the stallion. ‘So there’s your killer,’ he said cheerfully.
Shocking bad taste. A reproof trembled on her tongue but Miss Pink was forestalled by Sophie. ‘It wasn’t malice,’ she said angrily. ‘He was crazed with fear.’
‘It happens.’ Hilton looked at the younger man and from him to the sky. ‘Weather’s going to break,’ he observed and grinned at their surprise. ‘Oh yes, I’m the country boy, he’s the townie’ — dismissing Cole with affable contempt — ‘he wants to ride your canyon. Me — you won’t get me within a mile of it. You don’t have a horse could carry me anyways — except that there stud.’
Sophie rose to the bait. ‘No one’s getting on him till I give the word.’
‘He belongs to you, ma’am?’
She moistened her lips. His eyes were invisible behind the shades. ‘He’ll be mentioned in the will?’
‘He goes to my great-niece,’ she said tightly. ‘We’re looking after him till he’s fit.’
‘Why can’t she take him?’
‘It’s just that he fetched up here after the accident and we have better facilities for nursing him.’
‘He don’t look as if there’s anything wrong with him.’
‘You didn’t see him then. He’s a lot better now. We’ll be taking him over there shortly but we’re going easy on him for the present: resting him. He had a hard time.’
He nodded. ‘I seen ladies do wonders with a mean horse. Well, we got work to do…’
*
Val was in the tack room. ‘He was asking me about the provisions of Charlie’s will,’ she told them. ‘It was no good me saying I didn’t know, because all the family knows, someone would have given the game away. So I t
old him. He didn’t show any reaction, except to remark that Jen had been favoured. I said she’d always been his favourite. We both acted as if there was nothing remarkable about the will.’
‘He didn’t ask any questions about Jen and — the estrangement?’ Sophie pressed.
‘No.’ Val looked from one to the other uncertainly. ‘He never mentioned it. Would he know?’
‘Cole — the other one — knew everything else,’ Miss Pink said wryly. ‘He implied they’d talked to other people before they came here. They had time. The pathologist had all day yesterday. He could have discovered the bullet track in the morning.’
‘July Fourth,’ Sophie reminded her. ‘It was a holiday. He needn’t have started the autopsy till this morning and it’s only a preliminary report.’
‘So they say, but they’re very well informed, Sophie.’
‘They haven’t talked to anyone in the family, and Sam would have told us if they’d been on to him.’ Her eyes widened. ‘What about Bret and Jen?’
They were silent, perhaps wondering how much the police knew, but Miss Pink considering how much there was to know, certain that for her part she had only pieces of the picture.
Val said, ‘He asked how close Clyde and I were to the place where the body was found. When we were out on the loop trail, I mean.’ Miss Pink had wondered that herself but it had been too delicate a question to ask.
Sophie had no such reservations. ‘How close were you?’
‘How do I know? We covered around ten miles that day and no one knows what time the accident happened. Besides, clearing the trail: using an axe and saw, we’d never have heard a shot.’
‘I didn’t think you would.’
‘So? He said that was why he’d asked the question — did we hear a shot? But you want to know did I leave Clyde and ride on and find Charlie in the meadows above Mazarine. Don’t look at me like that! I have an alibi.’
‘Did you tell Hilton that?’ Miss Pink was horrified. ‘That Clyde is your alibi?’