Calvert tipped his head in thought. “I remember that little fella. He said he’d be back in the fall.”
“That’s what Stegman said. I figure he either found out as much as he thought he was going to, or he did plan to come back when he could use the cover of bein’ a regular hand.”
“Could be. He might even learn to rope.”
“Anyway, I think it’s possible that Ben was onto something and wasn’t going to leave it all up to the little fella.”
Calvert had a faraway look in his eyes. “I don’t remember Ben talkin’ all that much to Bill Parnell, but maybe he didn’t have to, and if Bill was better at his real work than he was at cowpunchin’, he could have had plenty of out-of-the-way conversations.” Calvert raised his eyebrows. “I guess you did have an interestin’ visit with the homesteader.”
“I sure did. Then I had another visit on the way back.”
“With the little fella?”
Will laughed. “I have the idea of this little fella bein’ like a leprechaun or a dwarf, a skinny little elf that pops up out of the sagebrush. No, I didn’t meet him. It was another little man, Max Aden.”
“What was he doin’?”
“Spyin’ on me, it looked like. And tryin’ to pick a fight. I told him where I’d been and what I’d heard about the sheepherder at Dunn’s, to let him stew on that.”
“What did he say?”
“It didn’t seem to faze him. He seemed more interested in makin’ a to-do about me wanderin’ off the job. Tried to make it out that I’d slipped over to Dunn’s and shot him. Then he said you and I were so thick you’d cover for me.”
“Ah, he knows better than that. The whole thing.”
“That’s what I told him. But it seemed to go along with them not telling us about Dunn to begin with.”
Calvert tensed his brows. “In what way?”
“They’ve got us paired up as not being company men.”
“Oh, they’ve got to take it a lot farther than that to make it into something wrong. I do my job, and I don’t lie for anyone. They all know it. And it’s no news to me that I’m not on the inside.”
“I didn’t take it as a good sign, though.”
“To hell with ’em. There’s other places to work.” Calvert tapped the bowl of his pipe upside down on his boot heel. “This thing with Ben, though. It’s got me curious.”
“Me, too.”
“Who do you think shot him, if everyone on the ranch was accounted for?”
Will looked straight at his riding partner. “I think it’s someone Donovan keeps out of sight, someone who’s not known around here, and he brings him out for any crooked work he’s got to do.”
“Where does he keep him? On the ranch?”
“I think the fella’s hidin’ out in that little stone house, and Blanche takes his vittles to him.”
Calvert let out a long, low breath. “Right there?”
“I think so. Right under our noses.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Do you have any idea who it is?”
Will looked around at the open country, as if there might be an eavesdropper within a quarter of a mile, and then he brought his gaze back to Calvert. “I think it’s someone Blanche knows, someone Donovan might have found through her. Unless I miss a good bet, I think it’s a man called Al Vetch.”
Chapter Twelve
Will and his partner saddled fresh horses after the midday meal and rode out of the ranch yard. When they had ridden about half a mile, Calvert turned his horse sideways, checked their back trail, and moved forward again.
“Damnedest thing about that little stone house,” he said. “Once you’ve got the idea that someone’s in there, it’s not the same.”
“I know what you mean. If I hadn’t seen Blanche takin’ food and water there the other evening, I’d have never had an idea.”
“Do you think the old man brought him here just to do a gun job?”
“I think he got him to do some land work. I understand he knows how to work with those kinds of papers. Probably handy at signin’ in various hands, too. Then once he was here, someone might have found another job or two for him.”
“How much longer do you think he’ll stay holed up there?”
“I don’t know. I have the idea that most of his work is goin’ to be done pretty soon, and he might pull out. So I think we—or I—need to spring something pretty soon, to get him out in the open. My job is just to verify that it’s him and report where he is.
After that, it’s a matter of whether someone else, like the law, can pin anything on him.”
“Just to have things straight—you’re not the law, then.”
Will laughed. “Not by a long ways. I’m working for a private party, and my job is to locate this fella.”
“That’s all right. All work is good work.”
Will laughed again. “In the meanwhile, if I can get anything else on him, so much the better.”
“Such as?”
“I wish there was a way we could talk to this Bill Parnell and ask him about the missing girl that he told Ben about.”
“Well, I don’t know how to get a hold of him. And I don’t know for sure that he’ll be back.”
By reflex, Will looked behind at the empty landscape. “I’d like to know more about what Ben knew or what he thought he knew.”
“That could be hard to find out.”
“And Pearl doesn’t know much. Not that she could tell me. Just that he was worried there at the end.” Will turned to Calvert. “You worked with him. Do you remember noticin’ anything?”
“No, I don’t, not as far as habits or behavior. You know, I’ve gone over it a hundred times, and it all seems as normal as daylight. Then last night, when I couldn’t sleep, I remembered one little thing.”
Will narrowed his attention. “What was that?”
“Funny thing at the time, and you wouldn’t think anything about it. Like I’ve said before, Ben was an easygoin’ lad, and every once in a while he’d say somethin’ about the Indians—how they tanned their deerskins, how they rode their horses, and the like. Well, he said he wanted to look for arrowheads, and he said he thought he’d go to the old quarry. You know the one.”
“Sure.”
“Well, Earl Ingram heard him, and he told the kid it wasn’t a good place to go—too many snakes—and he’d be better off not goin’ there. Ben said he knew how to look out for snakes.”
“Did he go, then?”
“I think he planned to on his next day off, but he didn’t live long enough.”
“That might be somethin’.”
“I didn’t think anything of it at the time. After all, why would someone kill someone else just to keep him from lookin’ for arrowheads? But now that I put it together with this other bit, it seems maybe someone didn’t want him to go to the quarry.”
“Sounds possible.”
“And here’s somethin’ else I didn’t think of. Why would someone look for arrowheads there? With all those chips, it would be like lookin’ for a needle in a haystack. Hopeless. And besides, it’s the wrong kind of rock.”
“Then Ben wasn’t very clever, tippin’ his hand.”
“Doesn’t seem like it, but he might have been curious.”
“You think he might have expected to find something there, and someone else didn’t want him to.”
Calvert tapped the loose ends of his reins against his knee. “Doesn’t it seem like it, though? After all, who ever spends any time at that quarry? You can see the whole thing from a quarter mile off, and there’s never any cattle there. And why run your horse over all those chips?”
“I rode through it, but I was lookin’ for a man whose body I thought might be dumped someplace. I admit I didn’t look very close, though. And besides, I was new on the job and didn’t want to lose much time or be seen snoopin’ around.”
Calvert twisted his mouth. “Well, I’m not in the habit of hidin’ bodies myself, or of lookin’ for �
�em, but I’d think that would be a likely place to stash one.”
“Sure. And you think that might be what Ben was thinkin’.”
“It might be. If Bill Parnell had found somethin’ there, the game would be up. But if he told Ben enough to make him want to look on his own, then maybe that’s what got him in trouble.” Calvert moved his head up and down in slow motion. “It could have been.”
The two men rode on for a few minutes until Will spoke. “Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to tell me.”
“It might be interestin’ to take a look at that quarry. I barely glanced over it when I went through before.”
“That’s what I was thinkin’, too, except that it won’t be in our pattern for a couple of days. And Earl might put us back out diggin’ postholes in the meanwhile.”
“Well, since I’ve already got a reputation for wan-derin’ off my path, I could go over there myself and then tell you what I found.”
“Could. But I think it would be safer if the two of us went. And besides, I’ve got my curiosity up now, too.”
Will raised his eyebrows. “Do you want to go over there this afternoon, then?”
“It could be the time to do it. If someone wants to keep an eye on you this afternoon, he can spend a few hours lookin’ for you or me either one, out where they think we’re headed.”
“Shall we go, then?”
Calvert stared ahead. “I say, why not. Up here a ways there’s a drainage that’ll take us partway across. Then we can skip over a couple of ridges and follow another dry wash.” He turned in the saddle and looked back. “Unless someone’s followin’ us already, it’ll be hard to pick us up. I’m glad we’ve got fresh horses.”
With Calvert leading the way, they set off across the dry country. In a little less than an hour of steady riding, they came to the old quarry. At the edge of the rubble, they dismounted and loosened their cinches. The horses had worked up a sweat, and now they could get a little rest even if there was no water.
The site appeared very much as Will remembered it. The rock had been quarried out of the side of a ridge, and the waste had been scattered all along the base. Broken, irregular pieces of stone, ranging in size from a fingernail to a man’s head, lay wherever they had landed. Heaps large and small rose from the carpet of rubble. Prickly pear cactus poked through in spots, and here and there Will saw discarded objects such as a rusted can, a bottle, a length of frayed cable, or a scrap of wood.
The quarry was over a hundred yards long, and in some places the trail between the wall and heaps of cast-off rock was barely wide enough to pass on foot. Calvert went first, taking slow steps. He paused and turned.
“You still want to look out for snakes.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Calvert moved on, and Will followed. Their spurs clinked, and the horse hooves shifted and crunched on the fragments below.
“Looks different up close,” said Calvert.
“Sure does. When I came through here before, I followed that trail out there, where it looks like they pulled the wagons.”
The wall itself was not a sheer bluff but rather an irregular surface, with crevices and alcoves cutting into it. Will tipped his head back. At its highest point, the wall was fifteen feet or so. Some of the chunks up above looked as if they were ready to let loose and fall, and he imagined several of the pieces on the ground had come down that way. He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. The rock gave off plenty of warmth.
“This would be a hell of a place to dig a grave,” said Calvert. “But if there was a hole, there’s plenty of loose rock to cover something up with.”
They wandered along, pausing at this cranny or that. Will looked for anything out of place in the overall disorder. On one occasion he thought he saw a mound of rocks that had been placed together. He handed his reins to Calvert and bent to the task of moving the loose pieces. When he got to the bottom, sweat dripping, he found a slab of solid rock. He took his reins back, and the two men ambled on.
Calvert stopped at an opening that was about four feet wide. It ran in for about eight feet, and the back wall tapered upward and outward until it met the bluff about ten feet overhead.
“Here’s a place,” he said, stepping aside.
Will moved forward and peered in. A layer of loose rock was scattered over the floor of the opening. “Unless it goes down, it’s too shallow.” Again he handed his reins to his partner. On his hands and knees he crawled in and tossed a few of the top pieces aside. “Nothing here,” he said. “Just the slough.” He backed out and stood up.
The next place looked more promising. It was a fissure about two feet wide, running all the way from the ground to the top. As Will craned his neck, he could see over Calvert’s shoulder. The gap was about nine or ten feet deep; after a couple of feet in, the opening curved, and beyond the curve lay a mound of rocks about five feet long. Calvert poked his head in, got a better look, and made way for Will.
“Let me try this one.” Will handed his reins to Calvert, turned sideways, and stepped in. The crack was a little wider beyond the curve, and he was able to crouch. The air was stale, and the whole crevice lay in the shadow of the rock wall. Will didn’t like the feeling of being closed in, but he set to work. Some of the pieces he tossed out behind him, and some he tossed into the open area ahead.
“I wish I had Aden’s leather gloves,” he said. “This sandstone is rough.”
As he moved pieces of rock, he continued to find more loose material below. He sat up straight to catch his breath. If this was a grave, it wasn’t very big— probably just large enough for a young woman. He imagined what might lie below—dark hair, a face with unidentifiable features, a dress of gray or light blue fabric.
“Do you want me to spell you?” came Calvert’s voice from outside.
“No, I’m all right. It’s just that the air’s a little close here.” Will bent to his work again, kneeled, and resumed pitching the rough pieces.
When he had uncovered about a foot of rock and was working below the ground level he had walked in on, he began to catch a dead smell. He found himself not wanting to see the girl’s face, though he knew that after two years it would have a distorted, unreal appearance.
Now his hands moved as if by themselves. His back ached, and he felt as if he was crouched doing his work and watching himself at the same time. He realized he was throwing all the rocks forward. It was easier that way. He cleared them out of the middle first, continuing to pick and toss the pieces that fell in. He stood up to try to clear the haziness, and then he went back to work.
A few minutes later he came to a fabric, a middle tone of blue, neither light nor dark, something like broadcloth. Then the hands—dirty and dented but still with the flesh on them. He was careful not to touch the hands themselves. He moved forward, picking stones off the chest and arms, noting the lapels of the jacket. Farther up, he began to suspend his expectations. He came to the chin and lower face of a man not long dead. The face was twisted and pitted from the weight of the rocks, but it was clearly that of a man who wore a close-trimmed mustache.
Will stood up, stepped back, and took a breath. He needed better air.
Calvert’s voice came through the opening. “Did you find something?”
“I sure did.” He sidestepped back from the interior and out into the daylight. Taking a couple of deep breaths of air, he fought down the heaving urge to vomit. “Take a look for yourself,” he said, “but don’t breathe too deep.”
In less than a minute, Calvert came out of the opening and expelled his breath. “It’s Bill Parnell,” he said. “I guess he wasn’t as good at his work as he should have been.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
“Where do you think the girl is?”
“I would say he was looking for her out here and didn’t find her. But they found him.”
Calvert had a thoughtful look on his face as he nodded. “He le
t everyone think he was gone, and then he came back. No one was goin’ to miss him.”
“Too bad. I’d say he thought the girl was out here, and Ben thought so, too. They didn’t want Ben comin’ here to the quarry because if he did, he’d find this fella.”
“Whew.” Calvert let out a long breath. “What about the girl, then?”
“We can look around here some more, but chances are, she’s somewhere else, if at all.”
“You think this might have all been a false lead?”
Will shook his head. “I don’t think so, but we can’t assume anything. If this fella made one mistake, he could have made two.”
Calvert looked at the ground with his eyes wide open. “He sure helped Ben make one as well, then.”
“We all make mistakes. You and I just have to make sure we don’t make any big ones now.”
They searched the rest of the quarry without finding anything. As they led their horses away from the field of rubble, Will looked up at the sky. The sun had moved over but was not yet slipping in the west.
“Here’s an idea,” he said as he checked his rigging and tightened his cinch. “One of us can go to town, and the other can go back to the ranch at the usual time.”
“What do we need in town?”
“The sheriff, for one thing, and the person I’m workin’ for, for another. I’d like to show her Al Vetch, and then the sheriff can hold him if he thinks he has enough cause. At the very least, he needs to know about Bill Parnell.”
Calvert, still calm, said, “I’d guess you want to go to town.”
“Actually, I think it would look better if you did. Raise less suspicion at the ranch.”
“But this person you’re workin’ for—you said it was a she—don’t you think you should be the one to talk to her?”
“I can do that when she gets to the ranch. I’d like to keep an eye on things, to the extent that I can.”
“What if she doesn’t take my word for it?”
“I can write her a note.”
“What do you plan to tell the others?”
“I don’t know. I’m still tryin’ to think this through. What’s a good idea?”
Trouble at the Redstone (Leisure Western) Page 15