Will made himself stay calm as he tried to think things through. Blanche had taken the man food and water, but there was no telling how long she might stay. It was hard to know what to do—whether to draw close to the building and try to catch some of the conversation, or whether to take advantage of the moment and try to talk to Pearl. Hoping that Blanche would stay in the little stone house for a while, Will crossed the hard-packed yard. As he did, he searched the entire form of the ranch house as it loomed on his left, and again seeing not even a crack of light, he took long, quiet steps toward the cookshack.
As the door was still open, he walked on in. He was glad to see no one in the mess area. A clatter of dishes told him someone was in the kitchen, so he went there, letting his feet fall normally so that he wouldn’t seem to be sneaking. Just as he arrived at the kitchen doorway and could see her, Pearl turned and gave a start.
“Hey,” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She took a close breath as her dark eyes moved over him. “Do you need something?”
“I’d like to talk to you if I could.”
She frowned in the direction Blanche had gone. “I don’t know if I should.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t do you any harm. I’d just like to ask you about a couple of things.”
He noticed the perspiration on her brow as she dried her hands on her apron. She was wearing a dark gray cotton dress that showed dampness on the shoulders and across the back.
“I don’t know.” Her eyes seemed to be searching him.
“Just for a few minutes. We can go out back where it’s cooler, and if someone comes, I’ll take off.”
She wiped the back of her hand across her brow. “All right.”
Outside, the night air felt fresh. No noise came from the bunk house or any place else in the ranch yard, but he knew that either Blanche or one of the hired hands could show up at any minute.
“Over here,” he said, leading the way to the corner of the cookshack farthest from the bunk house and the outbuildings. Enough moonlight showed so that he could see her face and bright eyes.
“What is it?” she asked in a voice just above a whisper.
“I don’t want to get you in any trouble, but I’m trying to find out about a couple of strange things that have gone on around here.”
“Well, I don’t know anything.”
“I think you can help me. Whether you can or not, if I can help you, I will. Do you believe me?”
“I don’t know. I guess so.”
“Good.” He went to touch her for assurance and decided not to. After a few seconds of searching for words, he said, “Look. I know this is something no one here wants to talk about, but I would like to know about Ben Forrester.”
“What about him?”
“Well, first, why anyone would want to do something to him.”
Her face slipped from view as she looked down and away. “I don’t know.”
“You were friends with him, weren’t you?”
“We talked.”
“Jim Calvert tells me Ben was kind of sweet on you. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s true, isn’t it?”
Now her eyes were visible. “Ben was a very nice boy. He cared about me and said nice things.”
“And you cared about him?”
She looked away. “What does it matter?”
“Look,” he said. “Anything you can tell me can help.”
“I don’t know anything else.”
“Let me put it this way. Do you think anyone was jealous of him? Maybe someone who also liked you and didn’t like to see him coming around?”
“I don’t know what other people think.”
“Not Max?”
“Oh, no.”
“And not Earl, or Brad, or even Jim?”
She did not answer right away, but her voice sounded decisive when she said, “I don’t think so.”
“How about Frank? Mr. Donovan?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Will tried to speak in a matter-of-fact way. “In just the little bit I’ve seen, he seems to like you.”
“Oh, he might.”
“But he’s never done anything about it?”
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Try to get you off alone. Touch you.”
“No, nothing like that. I always think he might, but he hasn’t. And like Blanche says, he’s an old man. What could he do?”
Will did not like to think about that enough to give her an answer. Instead he said, “So you don’t think he was jealous enough to have someone take Ben out of the way?”
She shook her head again. “No, I don’t.”
“Has he acted different at all? Any more forward, for example?”
“No, not really.”
“So he might be a little jealous, but not that much.”
“That’s what I’d say.”
Will took a breath and steadied himself. He felt that time was racing, yet he didn’t want to rush through and then wish he hadn’t. “What else do you know about Ben—that is, what else that might give me an idea of why someone might have something against him?”
“Like what?”
“Well, people get killed because someone else is jealous, or wants to get even, or doesn’t want them to say something. Those are just examples. There’s also money, but that doesn’t seem to have anything to do with this here.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“And no one had a reason to get even with him for anything?”
“I don’t know.”
“Or wanted to keep him quiet about something?”
“I don’t know that, either.”
He did not think she was being difficult, but he did not feel he was making enough progress, either. “I think it might be something like that,” he said.
“It could be.”
“Can you think of anything—anything at all that he mentioned or seemed worried about?”
She moved her head back and forth, and he followed the shine of her eyes. “Not that I can remember, but he did seem worried. He just didn’t say why.”
Will narrowed his eyes as he tried to sort things. “Did he ever mention knowing a Mrs. Welles?”
“No. Who is she?”
“If he didn’t know her, it doesn’t matter, and I don’t think he did. I think at some point she might have hired an investigator, but I don’t think it was Ben. Things don’t match for that. What about this man named Dunn, who runs the way station? Did you ever hear him mention that name?”
“No.”
Will was trying to think of a way of phrasing a question about Al Vetch when the back door of the cookshack jerked inward and a glow of light fell on the ground.
“Pearl!” shouted Blanche in her coarse voice. “Where are you, girl?”
Will ducked out of view behind the corner of the building as Pearl took a couple of steps toward the outhouse.
“I’m right here,” she said in a strained voice.
“What in the hell are you doin’ out here? Who else is there?”
“No one.” Pearl had her hand on her stomach. “I just have a lot of wind in me.”
“You girls. You want to faint with your monthly sickness.”
“But it hurts.”
“Well, let it out, and get back in here. I can’t do everything myself.”
Pearl walked toward the light and out of Will’s view. He heard her go up the wooden step, and then the door closed and left the night in darkness.
Chapter Ten
The sun had not yet risen when Max Aden, in his sullen manner, rode out of the ranch yard without saying a word to his partner. Will, who was already mounted up and waiting for Jim Calvert, watched without thinking as Brad Way finished pulling the cinches on his own mount and swung up into the saddle. Then, as the young man was going through the routine of adjusting his reins and trying to catch his right stirrup, the roan horse started bucking.
/> Will tightened the reins on his horse and waited to see what the roan was going to do. The animal bucked forward and back in a rocking motion, which was not likely to throw a good rider except that Brad had lost balance and was leaning to his left. Then the horse switched ends, and Brad came up straighter. He dug with his right foot, not to spur the horse into bucking more, but to try to stay upright. The horse switched again and went back into its rocking motion, landing on its front feet and kicking with the hind ones. Will thought Brad was going to ride it out all right until he saw that the roan was moving over to the corral and was probably going to try to rake the rider off on the rails. To complicate things, Brad’s right spur had caught in the strands of his cinch, making it hard for him to keep his balance or to jump if he wanted.
Will spurred his horse forward, dead at the corral and in the path of the bucking animal. Will’s horse stopped as he hoped, bunching its hind quarters under it and bracing itself against the roan, which must have been surprised at being pinned against the corral. Will grabbed the headstall near the bit and pulled down, settling the animal’s motion to a little dance and then stillness.
“Thanks,” said Brad, looking down as he unhooked his stirrup from the cinch. “Sumbitch wanted to buck a little bit.” He raised his head and smiled. “We’ll give it another try.” With his foot in the stirrup and his reins set, he nodded.
Will turned his horse back to the ranch yard as Brad let the roan walk out. Max Aden had turned his horse around and was waiting, gloved hands on the pommel. As Will reined his horse and turned further, he saw Earl Ingram a few steps out from the cookshack, hat in hand. Pearl was standing in the doorway.
Jim Calvert, who had mounted up by now, rode alongside Will. “Good move,” he said.
“Thanks. Made a little commotion, looks like.” Will nodded to Earl Ingram and then exchanged a glance with Pearl. Her face didn’t show much expression, but he thought he saw approval there.
The morning’s ride took Will and Calvert to the northwest of the ranch. By now, Will had a familiarity with many of the large draws he passed, although it seemed as if every once in a while he would come across an unfamiliar gully or canyon where he was sure he had ridden before. It was as if the land opened and shifted, although he knew it didn’t.
He also began to recognize some of the cattle, most often cow-calf pairs, as those were the ones he had been on the lookout for earlier, but also steers, yearling heifers, and bulls. In addition, he recognized some of the cattle carrying other brands. All of these open-range animals were half-wild, so he kept his distance and they kept theirs. He continued to look for anything irregular, such as an influx of cattle with another brand or an uneven distribution of animals over this sparse grazing area. But the whole vast range seemed uneventful and unchanging.
He did make one small discovery, which was not startling to a range rider. Down in a dry wash, in a spot that was not visible except from the ridge above, he found a dried and wrinkled cowhide. Most of the reddish brown hair was still on the hide, and the head was attached. Will took it to be a young animal, a year or a little better, and he figured this was some of last winter’s activity. Knowing it was the custom for a cattleman to eat anyone’s beef but his own, he thought this might even be the work of some of Donovan’s men. For someone like that, though, it was easier to herd an animal back to the ranch than to pack it, especially if it had a distant brand. A homesteader, on the other hand, might have taken this opportunity and might have availed himself of a smaller animal because it was easier to cut up and haul. What ever the case, it was old work and the meat was long gone.
At midmorning, Will met up with Calvert on a rise overlooking a wide, desolate flat with no cattle in sight. As usual they dismounted to get a little rest from the saddle and to share observations.
“Things look pretty much the same,” said Will as he rolled a cigarette.
“Slow time of year. Calves grow, cows fatten up a little. But there’s not much change from one week to the next.”
“Saw one old hide tucked away in a gully. Looked like somethin’ from last winter.”
Calvert sat with his hat back on his head, looking as if his only concern in the world was getting the loose strands of tobacco into the bowl of his pipe. “Prob’ly,” he said.
“I met a fellow at Dunn’s place the other day,” Will said, thinking that it wouldn’t hurt to collapse the two visits into one. “Name of Stegman. Said he had a place over west of Popper Spring.”
Calvert pursed his lips. “He wouldn’t have to come this far for beef. Could be anybody’s work.”
“Oh, I know. It just put me in mind of him.” Will lit his cigarette and handed the match to his partner.
“Uh-huh.”
“He seemed a little down in the mouth.”
“He always does. He’s got one of those faces that’re called downers. I worked with a fella like that. His name was Dan. They called him Downer Dan.” Calvert puffed a rich cloud. “Not a pleasant name. Better than Horse Thief Huntoon, though. Knew a fella who was called that, too.”
“Not to his face.”
“No, and he died in a brothel.”
“With his boots on?”
“As I heard it. People were surprised there wasn’t whiskey runnin’ out of the bullet holes.”
Will took a puff on his cigarette. “Why can’t folks learn to get along?”
“I don’t know. Damnedest thing.”
After a pause, Will continued. “This fellow Stegman says he’s plannin’ to pull up stakes.”
“Oh. Had enough?”
“From what he said, I understood he’d had enough of being pushed on by one of his neighbors.”
Calvert made a long face. “Someone not totally unconnected with the Rafter Six brand.”
“As I understood it.”
“Well, I’m not surprised. He’s gotten to several of ’em, little by little.”
“Has he been doin’ this for a long time, then?”
“I’m not sure how long. This is only my second year here, so I don’t have much of the history.”
“But you say he’s been here about ten years.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, you see a case like this one, even if the fella’s a downer like Stegman seems to be, and you can’t help thinking.”
“Always gets a man in trouble, thinkin’ does.”
“Yeah, but you do it yourself.”
“Oh, sure. That’s how I know it can get you in trouble.”
Will looked at his ash and took another drag. “Makes you wonder how square this whole deal is about the foreign investors. For one thing, if they so much as sent one rep out here, they’d see there’s a lot better grass to be had elsewhere.” He waved at the plain in front of them.
Calvert puffed. “Oh, yeah. Like I said before, I’ve never seen any of these investors or anyone representin’ ’em.”
Will plucked at the short, dry grass on the ground in front of him, hesitating but knowing he needed to go further. “I’ll tell you,” he said, “I heard something from Dunn himself that was interesting.”
“If it was about the boss of the Redstone, it wasn’t very flattering, I’d bet.”
“Well, that too. But this was about something else.”
Calvert gave a wry smile. “The evils of drink?”
“No, he didn’t quite get to that. What he talked about was oil.”
“I suppose he knows somethin’ about it, havin’ a wallow of it right next to his place.”
“He seems to. He says he’s been keepin’ up on the subject. Most of it’s new to me, but if there’s anything to it at all, it could be big doin’s.”
“Like how?” Calvert tamped his pipe with the empty shell casing, wiped the brass on the knee of his trousers, and slipped it back into his vest pocket.
“Well, he says they’ve been gettin’ oil out of the ground for years, back East and out here.”
“I believe that’s true.�
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“And he says one main use has been for lubrication—machines, especially steam engines, and things like railroad car axles. And the other main use has been for kerosene.”
“I think all of that’s pretty straight, too, from what I’ve heard.”
“Then he says the demand for kerosene is goin’ down because people in the cities are usin’ electricity, which is cheaper and brighter.”
“Probably safer, too. Remember the Chicago Fire.”
“Right. But then he says that in spite of the demand goin’ down, people are drillin’ more wells. He says they’ve been drillin’ ’em north of here, up around Casper and thereabouts, for ten years.”
“I’ve heard some of that, too.”
“And do you know why, accordin’ to him?”
“No, I don’t. I’d heard about the oil, but not about why.”
“Accordin’ to Dunn, who says he goes to Casper every winter to keep up on the news, there’s a new demand, or there’s going to be.”
Calvert puffed again and nodded. “All right.”
“It’s gasoline. He says it’s something they used to throw out but they discovered it makes good fuel.”
“For heating?”
“I don’t know about that, but he says it’s to run a new kind of engine. For automobiles. Not nearly as clumsy as a steam engine.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“These automobiles are already out, of course.”
“Sure. I’ve heard of ’em.”
“He says there’ll be one in Wyoming in a year or two.”
Calvert’s eyebrows went up and down. “Might as well. A place like Cheyenne is already full of bicycles. And he seems to know what he’s talkin’ about.”
“If he just heard it from other people passin’ through, I’d have my doubts. But he goes and finds out about it.”
“Could be. I thought he went there for the whorehouses.”
“Maybe he does that, too. But he gave me the impression that there were some men who knew what they were doing, and he’s been onto it for a while.”
Trouble at the Redstone (Leisure Western) Page 12