Trouble at the Redstone (Leisure Western)

by John D. Nesbitt

  Calvert looked up at his hat brim. “Let’s see. You can tell ’em I cut my hand open when I was tryin’ to take a cactus out of a calf’s lip. I saw a fella do it one time, so I know it can be done.”

  “That sounds like it’ll work. Now how about if you lend me your tally book and pencil, and I’ll write the letter.”

  Calvert reached into his saddlebag and brought out the booklet and pencil. “Here.” Then he pulled out his gun and holster. “Might as well put this on while I’m at it.”

  Will flipped past the first couple of pages, which had writing on them, and found a blank one. On it he wrote his message.

  Mrs. Welles:

  I believe I have found what I have been looking for. Please come with Jim Calvert to the Redstone Ranch. He is a trustworthy man I have mentioned before and he will drive you.

  Respectfully,

  Will Dryden

  He showed the note to Calvert, who asked, “When do you expect us to be there?”

  “Tomorrow morning would be good. I think it would be too much of a rush to try to get there this evening, and something could go wrong in the dark.”

  “Same with the sheriff?”

  “If you can get him.”

  “Good enough.” Calvert tucked the tally book into his vest pocket. “Maybe one other thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Where do I find this woman?”

  “Oh. That would help. Ask for Irma Welles at the Continental Hotel. She’s supposed to be staying there for a few more days.”

  “And I’m to hire something to drive her out in?”

  “Um, yes. I think she’ll pay for it. If not, I’ll pay you later. I don’t have any money on me right now.”

  Calvert held up his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it one way or the other.”

  “All right. Best of luck.”

  “Same to you. Let’s get the hell away from this place.”

  With one look behind at the quarry, Will swung onto his horse and put it into a lope. He and Calvert rode together until they came to a set of breaks. Calvert signaled that he would go to the right while Will would go to the left. Raising his hand and giving a tip of the head, Jim Calvert headed for town. Will kept on to the northwest, and when he came to the head of the draw he rode up on top. Shading his eyes with his hand at the edge of his hat brim, he scanned the country. It looked as empty as always, and he knew that was an illusion.

  Earl Ingram listened to the story with attention as the men waited in the bunk house for the supper bell. “I thought Jim was more careful than that,” he said, fixing his eyes on Will.

  “I think it could happen to anyone once.” Will sat down in the chair by the square table, about eight feet from where Ingram sat. He did not want to give the foreman the impression that he was avoiding him.

  “Why didn’t he come back here? We’ve got everything for that—iodine, ban dages.”

  “He seemed pretty worried. He wanted to see if he could get a doctor to sew it up.”

  Ingram shifted the toothpick in his mouth. “Laid it open pretty good, then.”

  “Right between the heel and the palm.” Will drew his finger along the thickest part of his left hand.

  “Where did it happen?”

  “About a mile south of Popper Spring.”

  “What time was it?”

  “Mid afternoon when he found me. About three o’clock.”

  Ingram’s blue eyes had been roving, and now they settled to meet Will’s. “And what did you do after that?”

  “Rode my circle as usual.”

  “Then some of Jim’s didn’t get covered.”

  “That’s right. If you want, I can ride that part in the morning.” Will cut the deck on the table in front of him and looked at the five of clubs.

  “We’ll see about it then.” Ingram seemed to reconsider something. “When do you think he’ll be back?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up tomorrow morning.”

  “He’s staying overnight in town, then.”

  “I believe that’s what he intended.”

  Ingram pushed out his mustache. “I should send Max in to make sure he’s all right.”

  Will looked over at Aden, who lay in his bunk with his arms across his chest. “Oh, then Brad and I can work together tomorrow.”

  The foreman did not seem to like the idea. “We’ll see about that in the morning.”

  A few minutes later, Blanche sounded the triangle. The men rose to their feet, and Will waited to be the last out the door. With Calvert gone, he felt the whole group was out of balance.

  Donovan showed up for supper with his gray hair well combed and with his white-handled revolver hanging on his belt. He listened to Ingram, who spoke in a low tone of voice that was nevertheless audible to everyone at the table as well as to Blanche, who cocked an eyebrow as she delivered the fried ham.

  Donovan nodded at the empty seat across from him and said to Will, “Earl says Jim had an accident.”

  “Yes, sir, he did. Cut his hand.”

  “Left you to work by yourself.”

  “Yes, but I don’t mind it. We’re on our own most of the time as it is.”

  “Oh, it’s good to have someone to look out for you, though. Just like Jim had you. That’s why Earl has you men work in pairs. Isn’t that right, Earl?”

  Ingram nodded. “You bet. But even that’s no guarantee. Had a fellow one time, he was skinnin’ a steer on the ground, and you know how some people pull the knife towards ’em. Well, he did it, and it must have slipped, because he got himself right here on the inside of his thigh. Bled to death before anyone knew it, and him just on the other side of the chuck wagon.”

  “Always work the knife away from you,” said Donovan. “That’s what they taught us.”

  “Can never be too careful,” Ingram continued. “I’m surprised at Jim, though. He’s as careful as any man I know.”

  “Which of these boys does the whittlin’?” Donovan asked.

  Ingram pointed as he answered. “Brad does.”

  “Then you know to always work your knife away from you, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s good. Try not to have any accidents on the ranch.”

  Will sat inside the open barn door and kept a watch on the other buildings. After a while, Blanche came to the door of the cookshack, stood there for a moment, and stepped out into the night. Again she was carrying a pail and a jug, and she headed in the direction of the little stone house. Will chose not to follow her, as he did not want to upset anyone’s sense of ease at this point. For the same reason, he decided not to go into the kitchen and seek a conversation with Pearl. He waited until Blanche’s form was absorbed into the darkness and he heard the scrape of a door. Then, noting that one room was lit in the ranch house, he crossed the yard in the dark.

  Leaning against the hitching rail closest to the cookshack, he rolled a cigarette and lit it. The front door of the bunk house was closed, probably because Jim Calvert was not there to leave it open as he smoked his pipe. Blanche had left the door of the cookshack open, however, and Will kept a casual gaze in that direction.

  After a couple of minutes, Pearl appeared in the doorway. She stood with her left hand on the door-jamb as she peered out.

  Will cleared his throat and stood up straight. The action caught her attention, and she motioned for him to come near.

  “Evenin’,” he said in a low voice as he came within a few feet and into the light.

  “Good evening,” she answered. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Is Jim all right?”

  “Sure he is. Are you worried about him?”

  “Just a little. He didn’t get hurt some other way, did he?”

  “Oh, no. He’s all right. He’s just spendin’ the night in town.”

  She gave a sigh of relief. “You never know. Someone gets hurt bad, and everyone else acts like noth
ing happened.”

  “I know what you mean, but don’t worry. I expect him to be back out here tomorrow before noon.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  A sound carried across the night, the sound of wood scuffing. Will stepped back from the light of the doorway. He looked in the direction of the little stone house but saw nothing. When he brought his glance back to the doorway of the cookshack, Pearl had vanished. He cupped his lit cigarette and held it in front of him as he turned and walked to the far end of the bunk house. Once there, he stepped around the corner.

  As he smoked his cigarette in the darkness, he mulled over the situation. He was sure Ingram was suspicious, but that was to be expected from people who had something to hide. Jim Calvert, at least, should be in a safe place by now. Will smiled at the thought of Jim having a drink with Mrs. Welles, though he was pretty sure Jim would be careful not to make any mistakes.

  Then he thought of another man off in a different direction, a little fella lying on his back, partially covered with loose rock. It was too bad for the dead man, but it would give the sheriff something to go on. It would also give Bill Parnell the chance for a decent burial. Every man—or woman—deserved that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the lantern light of the cookshack, Earl Ingram pushed aside his breakfast plate and took out his watch to wind it. He leveled his calm blue eyes on Will and said, “Go ahead and cover that ground that Jim didn’t get to. If he’s back by noon, then the two of you can go on ahead as you would have done.” Ingram turned to his right. “Max, you and Brad can work to the southeast.”

  Will finished his coffee, put his plate and cup and fork in the wreck pan, and stepped outside into the cool morning. He went to the horse corral, roped out the sorrel he intended to ride, and led him to the hitching rail.

  A few minutes later, Brad Way came out of the cookshack, took a final drag on his cigarette, and stepped on the butt. Will imagined Aden still sitting inside in a haze of smoke and conferring with In-gram. From Will’s estimate, Aden must have ridden quite a ways across country to check on him yesterday, and he might be getting the go-ahead to do the same thing today.

  Will was pulling the rear cinch when Aden came out at a brisk walk, the tip of his cigarette glowing in the gray light. He coughed once and kept heading for the barn. As Will mounted up to ride out of the ranch yard, he saw Aden going into the horse corral with his rope.

  A light shone through the cookshack window, but Will did not see anyone within as he rode past. In-gram was probably still sitting at the table, taking his time with a cup of coffee. Will glanced around at the two stone buildings, one small and one large, both of them gray in the morning twilight. All the windows were dark, and the two buildings sat silent as headstones.

  With a clucking sound, Will put the sorrel into a trot. He held that pace for nearly a mile, and then he turned on the trail to survey the country behind him. The sky was turning shades of yellow and pink in the east, but the grassland itself still had the predominant cast of gray. It looked as if the day was starting out like any other, but if things went anywhere near the way he hoped, he was going to turn over a pretty big applecart. This was probably his last day at the Redstone, so he wasn’t too worried about starting it off by not going where he was expected to be.

  He had it in mind that instead of riding the circle he should be at the ranch when Jim Calvert showed up, and if Aden was busy trying to find him out on the range, so much the better. Meanwhile, he wanted to keep an eye on the buildings. Following a route that kept to low ground, he headed east and came out on a rise just north of the Redstone headquarters.

  Far off to the south he saw two riders, which would be Aden and Brad Way starting out on their rounds. Closer in, he saw the horse pasture dotted with grazing animals, then the corrals and barn and other buildings. Sunrise was casting light over the scene, which was still and quiet. Smoke rose from the stovepipe on the cookshack, and horses moved in the corral, but no humans appeared.

  Then he had a small surprise. Earl Ingram came out of the cookshack, crossed to the barn, and fetched a horse from the corral. A few minutes later, he rode off in the direction Will had taken earlier.

  As stillness returned to the ranch yard, Will decided this could be the time to make his move. Mounting up, he rode farther east and then came around, making his approach so that the bunk house stayed between him and the yard. Once he got to the bunk house, he dismounted and walked along the wall to the corner. He peeked around and saw no one. He took a couple of steady breaths to calm himself and then stepped into the open, leading the horse. He crossed the yard to the barn without looking to either side, but once there, he glanced out and saw that the cookshack door was closed. If anyone had seen him, it would be Donovan, but Will had gotten the idea that the boss slept late.

  Now for the cover. Will tied the sorrel to a post and went to the workbench where the horse shoeing tools were kept. He found a pair of long-handled nippers and returned to the horse. Lifting the right rear foot and holding it in his lap as he crouched, he used the nippers to wrench the horse shoe loose. Now, if anyone asked him what he was doing, he could say his horse was losing a shoe and he had come back to try to fix it.

  Next he took off his spurs, put them in his saddlebag, and pulled a bundle of burlap bags close to the doorway. He sat there and waited for over an hour, rolled a cigarette and lit it, and went back to look through the stable and corrals. Still seeing nothing, he took a seat by the open door again and resumed his watch.

  He had lapsed into absentminded staring when all of a sudden the cookshack door opened and his pulse jumped. Blanche stepped outside into the bright sunlight, and without looking around she set off carrying a pail and a jug.

  About a minute later, Pearl appeared at the doorway, shading her eyes against the morning sun.

  Will gave a low whistle, and her eyes searched him out. He made the sound again and stepped more fully into view, but he stayed inside the open doorway of the barn.

  She gave a frowning, inquiring look, and he waved for her to come his way. She frowned again, and he repeated his gesture. She looked both ways, and then, holding the lower part of her apron on each side to the fabric of her brown dress, she stepped into full view and crossed the yard.

  “What do you want?” she whispered, once she was inside the doorway.

  “How long is Blanche going to be gone?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes at this time of day she stays there for a little while.” Her dark eyes roved over him. “What is it?”

  “I’d like to know some things if I can.”

  “Like what?”

  “Along the lines of what we were talking about the other night before Blanche came along.”

  She turned to glance out at the empty yard. “I don’t know what else there is.”

  “We were talking about Ben.” He paused, trying not to jump into the topic too fast. “You said he was worried. Was it about something he knew or about something he thought might happen?”

  It took her a few seconds to answer. “Maybe a little of both.”

  “Was he worried for you, or for himself, or—”

  “Again, probably some of both.” Her eyes seemed to be searching him. “He said he wanted to get me out of here before anyone got hurt, but he didn’t make it.”

  “Is that something you’d like to do?”

  “Get out?”

  “Yes.”

  She hesitated, as if she was uncertain about being so direct with him. Then she spoke in a calm voice. “Yes, I would. I wish I could get away from here, but I don’t know how I can. Blanche keeps such a close eye on me, and Frank tells me he’d hate to see me ever leave. I don’t see how I could just walk out of here.”

  “I told you the other evening I would help you if I could, and I’ll try to make good on that. I think things are going to change pretty soon, and the more I know, the better chance I’ll have of helping you get
out of here.”

  She looked at him as if she didn’t know how much to believe. “What else is there to know?”

  “Maybe a few things. Did Ben ever mention a girl who worked in the kitchen before you did?”

  “He asked me if I had heard of her.”

  “Had you?”

  “Yes, but not much.”

  Will felt his heartbeat pick up. “What all did you hear? Did you know her name?”

  “Yes, I heard her name. Blanche called me by it a couple of times by mistake when I first came. Her name was Marie.”

  “Marie. Do you know what her last name was?”

  “No. Just Marie.” Pearl looked over her shoulder. “I should be going.”

  “Wait another minute if you can. I’ve got a couple of other things I’d like to ask about.”

  “Well, hurry.”

  “Okay. First, do you remember a man who worked here a while back, named Bill Parnell? A little fella.”

  She nodded. “I remember him.”

  “Did Ben say anything about him?”

  She gave a thoughtful expression and shook her head. “Not that I remember. Why?”

  “Well, he might have been looking for this girl Marie, or what happened to her, and he might have said something to Ben. It could have been part of what Ben was worried about. I doubt that anyone has said anything about Bill Parnell since he left.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “And I doubt that they ever talk about Marie.”

  “No, not that, either.”

  Will took a deep breath and exhaled. “Tell me this if you can, Pearl. Do you know who’s hiding out in the little stone house?”

  She held her eyes steady as she said, “No.”

  “But it’s someone Blanche knows, and someone you’re not supposed to make a peep about.”

  Her eyes wavered and came back to him. “That’s right.”

  Will thought he heard a sound in the stable, but before he checked to see, he said, “Just one more thing, quick. Have you ever heard of a man called Al Vetch?”

  A voice came from behind him, a rough voice he recognized. “Hold it right there, puncher. I can shoot either of you or both, and don’t think I’m afraid to shoot the girl.”