“If you’ve got any beer as good as the stuff we drank the other day, I could go for that.”
“I’ll let you be the judge on how good it is.” Dunn rose from his chair and gave his trousers a hitch.
“Get yourself one, too.”
“No objections to that.”
Dunn went behind the bar and rummaged around. Will heard the tinkle of glasses, a cough from the bent-over proprietor, and then the dull sound of a full glass being set on the bar top. A moment later, Dunn came around the end of the bar with a glass of beer in each hand. He set them on the table and lowered himself into his chair.
Will raised his glass. “Here’s to it.”
“And them that can do it.”
The beer tasted as Will remembered it, not cold but not flat.
Dunn set his glass down and smacked his lips, not quite as loud as before. “Well, what news from the Redstone?”
“Not much.”
“Still nothin’ on that young feller that got killed?”
Will shook his head. “No one seems to have an idea. The only one who’s even talked about it has been Jim Calvert.”
“Oh, he’s all right.”
“Sure seems to be. He’s my workin’ partner. We get along fine.”
“That’s good. At least you didn’t get stuck workin’ with Max Aden.”
“I don’t think that would have worked out very well.”
“I heard you met him early on.”
“You hear just about everything, don’t you?”
Dunn shrugged. “What little news there is gets around.”
Will took another drink, and his host did the same. Will brought out the makin’s, troughed a paper, and shook out a narrow mound of tobacco grains. “Not much goin’ on there,” he said. “Ride out each day and check on things. We rounded up a few calves they missed on the first gather, but other than that we just go out in pairs and do the regular stuff.”
“Four of you there now?”
“Four riders, then Ingram. Plus the cook and her helper.”
“Oh, yeah. I heard they had a woman cook.”
“Name of Blanche. Not a real friendly sort. And then there’s an Indian girl helps her in the kitchen. Don’t see much of her.” Will rolled his cigarette and licked it, then smoothed the seam.
“Huh. It takes two women to feed five or six men?”
“I understand they had a bigger crew and just got rid of half of ’em.”
“Jim Calvert could cook for the whole damn bunch. I guess he does, when they’re out on the range.”
“That’s what he said.” Will lit his smoke.
“Yeah. Donovan needs two women in the kitchen like I need Chinese chickens. If he didn’t look so soft-petered, I’d think he was usin’ one of ’em.”
“I sure couldn’t say.”
“She probably kissed his ass and got him to give her a job.” Dunn took out his tobacco pouch, pinched up a wad of stringy dark tobacco, and stuffed it in his left cheek.
Will laughed. “I have a hard time imaginin’ that. She’s a real harpy.”
“Maybe that’s what he needs.”
“Anyway, that’s the crew.” Will thought it was just as well that he didn’t say any more about Pearl. “And work’s work,” he added. He took a drag on his cigarette, lowered it, and turned it to see how it was drawing. He was pleased at having rolled a good even smoke.
“That’s for sure.”
“I could wish for a friendlier atmosphere once in a while, but the pay’s reasonable and the eats are all right.”
“What do you think of Ingram?”
“Oh, he’s working for the company, that’s for sure. But he keeps everything neat and organized.”
“Never trust a man who doesn’t drink.”
“Or one who does. I don’t suppose he comes in here very often.”
“Every once in a while he’ll stop in with the boys if they’re passin’ through. But he knows I don’t like his boss, or his right-hand man Aden, and I don’t pretend to. If I see him, it’s usually somewhere else. Always civil, though.”
“He’s that.” Will drank down the rest of his beer and set his glass on the table.
Dunn, who seemed to have been waiting, did the same. “Care for another?”
“You bet. Two more.”
Dunn pushed himself up from his chair, gathered the two glasses, and went to the bar. Will smoked his cigarette and admired how evenly it was burning. After a minute or so, Dunn came back and set the two full glasses on the table. Easing into his chair, he leaned forward to reach his spit can, and at short range he made his deposit.
Will noticed smudges high on the man’s sleeve as well as across the chest and belly of his shirt. As a way of changing the topic, he said, “I’d forgotten about that oil seep of yours until I rode up to your place again.”
The man’s dark eyes settled on him. “What about it?”
“Oh, nothin’. It’s just somethin’ interestin’, some-thin’ I don’t see or think about very much.” Will raised his glass in salute and took a drink.
Dunn nodded and followed suit. “For the most part, it’s just there.”
“Not much of a moneymaker.”
“Not now. But it could be.”
“Oh, really?”
The man leaned on the table so that only the upper part of his shirt and suspenders was in view. A gleam came across his dark features, and he fixed his gaze on his visitor. “It could be the next big hurrah.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep.” Dunn cocked one eyebrow in a knowing expression, and it reminded Will of the way men acted when they wanted to allude to some great find of gold but didn’t want to give away where it was.
“I would never have guessed.”
“Look,” said Dunn, in an almost-conspiratorial tone. “Men have been gettin’ oil out of the ground in this country for damn near forty years.”
“Here?”
“Well, they started in Pennsylvania, but they’ve been gettin’ it at Fort Bridger for thirty years.”
“I never knew that.”
“A lot of men don’t. And a lot of men don’t know what it’s used for.” He left his comment hanging in the air.
“I don’t know. Lubricate machines.”
“That’s one use. To lubricate steam engines and the axles on railroad cars. The other big use is for kerosene, a hell of a lot better than candles and a hell of a lot cheaper than whale oil.”
“I see.”
“But it doesn’t take very many oil wells to fill all that need.”
“I imagine.”
“A few barrels go a long way to lubricate boxcar axles.”
“Sure.” Will finished his cigarette, dropped the butt on the floor, and ground it out with the sole of his boot.
“And furthermore, the cities are all goin’ to electricity. You don’t see anything but kerosene in the towns and ranches out here, but believe me, they’re usin’ it a hell of a lot less where there’s the greatest amount of people.”
Will took a drink of his beer. “This is all new to me.”
“It is to most people.” Dunn tipped his glass and drank more than half of what was left. “Now get this. They’re drillin’ more wells, not less.”
“The hell.”
“The hell yes.” Dunn’s face showed the animation of a prospector in full faith, and his voice held steady and low. “They’ve been doin’ it for over ten years, just out in this country, that I know of. The first good one was well over ten years ago, at Dallas Dome. Now that’s northwest of here. The more recent ones are around Casper. Now you ask, why are they doin’ all this?”
Will blinked. “You bet I do.”
In the same low voice and with his gaze leveled, Dunn said, “Because they believe it’s the next big thing.”
“When the demand is goin’ down?”
“It’s gonna go up!” Dunn opened his eyes wide and spit in his can again.
Will drew his
head back and widened his eyes in return, but he said nothing.
“You know what an auto-mo-bile is?”
“Sure. They call ’em a horse less carriage.”
“What do they run on?”
Will shrugged. “Steam, I guess.”
“Some of ’em, but they’re not doin’ much. The ones that are comin’ out, that are gonna be the next goin’ thing, run on gasoline.”
“Gasoline?”
“That’s right. It’s a by-product of petroleum. They used to just dump it out, until they discovered it made one hell of a good fuel.”
“Not to make steam?”
“No. To replace it. It’s a different kind of engine, and it burns the fuel inside. Not half as clumsy as a big steam engine on a little automobile.”
“Well, that’s something. I’d never have dreamed it.”
“Most people wouldn’t. You take the average man, and he wanders along starin’ at the ass end of sheep—or like you, no offense, swattin’ the hind end of a cow with your rope—and it’s right there under his nose, all that time.”
“Huh. And you knew about it when you took up this little piece of ground.”
“You damn right I did. And every winter I go to Casper and get an idea of how far along things are going. One of these days someone’ll come along who knows what’s what, and he’ll try to buy it cheap. And I’ll be a step ahead of him, and if he’s got the equipment, we can talk turkey. If he don’t want to, I can wait for the next offer. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
“How long do you think it’ll be until there’s a market?”
“Not long. They’re makin’ these machines right now. You’ll even see ’em in Wyoming in a year or two.” Dunn finished his beer and licked his lips. “Times are changin’, boy.”
“So I’ve heard.” Will tossed off the last of his beer. “I believe I could drink another of those. What would you think of two more?”
“Just fine, and these are on me.”
Feeling a glow of relaxation, Will rolled himself a cigarette as Dunn got up and fetched two more glasses of beer.
“Here,” said the proprietor, setting a short, wide can on the table. “Helps keep the place clean.”
Will lit his cigarette, shook out the match, and dropped it in the can.
Dunn spit into his own can and in a matter-of-fact tone remarked, “You don’t have to repeat all of this, of course.”
“No need to at all.”
“None of it’s secret, you know, but a man’s business is his own.”
“Sure.”
“Just like you. You come here in the middle of the season, lookin’ fer work, and that’s all it is to me. A man lookin’ fer work.”
Will nodded. “And glad to find it, thanks in part to your recommendation.”
“You didn’t mention me, did you?”
“No, you said it wouldn’t do much good, so I didn’t bother.”
“Just as well.” Dunn rubbed his nose. “You say you don’t mind workin’ there.”
“It’s all right. Donovan’s got a funny way of but-terin’ up everybody, and then Ingram goes on about what a swell place it is.”
“Right in front of him, uh?”
“When he’s there and when he’s not.”
“Like I told you, Donovan likes people to kiss his ass. I don’t, and he acts like I should, but he don’t pay my wages, so to hell with him.”
“Have you ever had a run-in with him?”
“No, not at all. But a few years back, he was takin’ up a collection to hire a stock detective to come in here. He squeezed money out of a lot of these little operators, some of them are gone now, tellin’ ’em that everyone benefited from the protection.”
“Protection?”
“Against crime, he said. He even used that argument on me. I told him I didn’t have any livestock and didn’t need any protection against rustlers or whatever.”
“I’d say.” Will tapped his ash into the can.
“Then he said that if my customers benefited, I did. And it wasn’t what he said, which was kind of ridiculous in itself, but the way he did it. You could say he leaned on me, tellin’ me that if I didn’t contribute to the protection I couldn’t expect any.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I suppose he leaned on all these little folks, too, whether they had livestock or not.”
“Sure, and he still does, whenever he’s got a mind to.”
Will took a drink of his beer. “I understand he’s trying to buy up a lot of these little places now. Has some investors who want to run a big herd of cattle, and he wants to get the grazin’ for ’em.”
“Could be. I’ve heard he picks up some parcels on auction, and he’s never been shy about puttin’ some pressure on one little fellow or another.” Dunn tipped himself a healthy slug of beer. “I’ll tell you, he looks like a soft-petered old bastard, but he’s got plenty of drive left for pushin’ other people and takin’ what he can get.”
“Does he do this by himself?”
“I think he trots his foreman and his young hothead around with him.”
“I notice he packs his pistol, even when he doesn’t need it.” Will took a drag on his cigarette.
“Just practicin’. Gives him somethin’ firm to get his hand around.”
Will laughed and blew out his smoke.
“Anyway,” said Dunn, “I don’t have much to do with him. I don’t go to his place, and he don’t come to mine. He’s another one that doesn’t drink.”
“Well, there’s no drinkin’ at the ranch, that’s for sure, unless that woman Blanche keeps a bottle hid out. Probably just as well. Our friend Aden is cross-tempered enough when he’s sober.” Will looked at the ash on his cigarette. “Of course Jim Calvert, and that other fellow Brad Way, they’re easy to get along with.”
“Blanche. I bet that’s somethin’,” said Dunn.
Neither man spoke for a few minutes, and when it looked as if they each had one swallow of beer left, Will tried his question.
“Have you ever heard of a man named Al Vetch?”
Dunn pursed his lips and shook his head. “Nope. Is that what you’re doin’ here, lookin’ for him?”
“Not at all. I’ve never heard of him, either. I just came here lookin’ for work.”
“I knew that.”
Will took his time going back to the ranch, following a different route from the one he had taken on the way to Dunn Station. It was still early afternoon, and the beer left him feeling relaxed. His thoughts drifted to big cities, where electricity lit up the insides of buildings and where automobiles chugged in the streets. He gazed off to the north, where Dunn said men had been drilling for oil. It was a strange notion. He wondered how far below the surface the pools lay, and he wondered what they looked like. He imagined caverns with dark, shiny pools waiting to be tapped.
Twice out of the corner of his eye he saw a speck above the crest of a ridge, like the hatless head of a man, but each time as he turned to get a better view, the spot disappeared.
Back at the ranch, he unsaddled his horse and turned the animal out to pasture. He wondered if it was too late to get a bite to eat for dinner, but rather than go in and ask directly, he went into the bunk house.
Ingram was the only person there. He sat at the small table, wearing his snug vest but not his hat or gun. He was playing solitaire. After exchanging a greeting with Will, he reached for an envelope on the corner of the table and handed it forward with a smile.
“Thanks,” said Will. He broke the seal and opened the envelope where he stood. As he unfolded the sheet of paper, he recognized the neat cursive handwriting.
Mr. Dryden:
I hope this letter reaches you all right. I am staying at the Continental Hotel here in town. I would appreciate seeing you when you get a chance.
Cordially,
Irma Welles
Will looked up from the note and met Ingram’s inquisitive gaze. He tucked the letter back into the envelope and
tapped the folded edge against his palm. “I just came back from a ride, and now it looks as if I need to go to town. Could I use a horse?”
“Sure.” Ingram made a sincere expression as he nodded. “I hope there’s no trouble.”
“Oh, no.” Will smiled as he tapped the envelope again. “Thorns on the rose.”
Chapter Eight
Will took two steps out past the rear door of the bunk house and pitched the gray water from the basin. After peering at the little mirror inside as he shaved himself, he found the daylight almost blinding. He shook the tin basin a couple of times, took it inside, and hung it on a nail near the stove. Then he picked up the enamel kettle by its handle to take it back to the kitchen.
He knocked on the front door of the cookshack, as he had done earlier, thinking it was more diplomatic than just walking in when it wasn’t mealtime. The door opened and Blanche stood there, no less flushed and no less imposing than before.
“Here,” he said, holding the kettle forward. “Much obliged.”
“Anytime.” As she took the handle, her pale blue eyes gave him a looking-over, as if to see whether he had lied about the purpose of the hot water.
Will returned the favor, catching a glance at her full figure as she stood there. In spite of the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and the sagging skin below her jawline, she had an insolent posture—a way of standing with her hips a little off center and slightly forward—that suggested an awareness of the body itself that some men would find her alluring. Who those men were, Will had no idea, and he did not think she was practicing on him. He was even more sure when she closed the door.
He did not waste time getting into a clean change of clothes, fetching a gray horse from his string, and saddling it. Tipping his hat toward the sun, which had passed the high point but was not yet slipping in the west, he rode out of the ranch yard.
The shadows in town were stretching when he found the Continental Hotel, which was a couple of blocks west and across the street from the Lucky Diamond. Thinking he would rather not signal his whereabouts, he found a stable where he arranged to have the horse watered, fed, and kept on hand until he should come back. He told the stable man he expected to be gone a couple of hours at most.
Trouble at the Redstone (Leisure Western) Page 9