The Valerons--Retribution!

by Terrell L Bowers

  ‘We are doing a survey,’ Wendy contributed, flashing an approving glance at July for his flawless delivery. ‘It will help the governor promote Denver as a good place to start new companies – yet protect those of you who are already established.’

  ‘Sounds like a smart idea,’ Stanley approved. ‘Was I wanting to know anything about the slaughterhouse, I’d visit Don Larson. He tried to make a go of a meat market a year or so back. Ended up working for Pegg cutting and wrapping meat.’ He gave a firm bob of his head. ‘Tell you straight, Larson is a first-rate meat cutter. Since he started working there, I’ve never had a complaint from anyone about him leaving anything on the bone a buyer wouldn’t want to pay for. He trims every cut purty as you please.’

  July asked for directions to his house and thanked him for his input. Once he and Wendy were back out on the walk, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

  ‘Whew!’ he panted. ‘Glad that is over.’

  ‘You did fine,’ Wendy praised his work. ‘You didn’t miss a word or say one wrong thing.’

  He grunted. ‘Yeah, because I had you to fill in the blank spots and do much of the talking.’

  ‘We make a good team,’ she said cheerfully. ‘We are going to have to rent a buggy. The man he told us about – that Larson fellow – sounds like the one we need to talk to.’

  ‘You bet. If he was run out of business by this Pegg character, he ought to be willing to spill whatever beans he knows about.’

  ‘First off, July, I’m not used to sleeping late and missing breakfast. It’s time for something to eat. How about you take me someplace nice?’

  ‘I don’t have but a couple dollars.’

  She laughed. ‘Silly! Daddy is paying for everything.’

  ‘In that case, Miss Valeron, you can pick out whichever eatery you want.’

  The court hearing was attended by a lone clerk, the judge, Police Officer Fielding and his immediate supervisor – a short, but sturdy-looking man he introduced as Sergeant McEnroe – plus Shane and Jared. However, there was one surprise visitor, a man who owned a nearby ranch. As soon as the clerk announced the reason for the hearing, the gent stood up and asked the judge for permission to speak.

  ‘We’re looking into a simple gunfight,’ the judge told him. ‘Does this have relevance to the deaths of Rex Anderson and Orion Dekay?’

  ‘It does.’

  ‘Proceed,’ he allowed. ‘State your name and speak your piece.’

  ‘I’m Pierce Mantee, owner of the Big M ranch, about ten miles west of Denver,’ the man began. ‘As for them two fellers, I’d like to state they sometimes worked for me – usually when I had a roundup or cattle drive lined up. They didn’t live at the ranch, but they were usually around when we needed help.’

  ‘You said this had relevance?’ the judge prompted him to get to the point.

  ‘Yes, Your Honor,’ Mantee replied. ‘Them two come by a week or so ago, wanting to sell me fifty head of steers. They claimed to have bought them real cheap, but I seen the brand – the Double B – and I knew the Barrett ranch didn’t sell cattle that way.’ He snorted his disdain. ‘I told them I didn’t want no part of stolen beef and sent them on down the road. They headed off in the direction of Pueblo.’

  ‘And why is this relevant to this hearing?’

  ‘Like I said, them two worked for me on occasion, and I knew about their personal grudge against the Valerons. They blamed them for losing their jobs at the Double B. I thought you ought to know about that. It shows that there thing called motive, meaning they had a reason to want to get even with the Valerons. I reckon they were the ones responsible for this here row.’

  The judge waved a hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Mantee,’ he said. ‘The court appreciates your coming forward with this information.’

  Mantee had said what he intended. He thanked the judge for listening to what he had to say and left the courtroom.

  Officer Fielding was the next to give his account, summing up what had taken place. Then the judge asked Jared a question or two, learning about the stolen cattle and the murder of one of the Double B hands. He finished by directing his attention to McEnroe.

  ‘Are you satisfied with the explanations and outcome of this encounter, sergeant?’

  ‘The captain has signed off on the death of the two men as self-defense, Your Honor,’ McEnroe reported. ‘The evidence and witnesses all support the scene as we found it.’

  ‘That being the case,’ the judge declared, ‘no charges will be forthcoming. I hereby declare the shooting was in self-defense. This court is adjourned.’

  Fielding and McEnroe left with Jared and Shane, then stopped to talk to them outside the courthouse.

  ‘This killing you spoke of to the judge, out at the Double B,’ McEnroe inquired. ‘That’s the same shooting that put Mr Dodge in the local hospital?’

  Jared told him what they had learned and their tracking the cattle to the slaughterhouse.

  ‘Mantee said them two headed the herd for Pueblo,’ McEnroe clarified. ‘But you say the trail ended at Pegg’s slaughterhouse?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Yet you found nothing to prove anything against Pegg?’

  ‘They covered their tracks right quick,’ Jared said. ‘Butchered the cattle and got rid of the hides before we could track them down.’

  Fielding sighed. ‘We’ve been a little curious about how Pegg manages to undercut every other outlet of beef. He had a special sale just the other day, selling some prime beef at a real discount. My wife got us a roast and several steaks for about half the usual price.’ He scowled from his suspicions. ‘I have to believe there’s a good chance that’s where the Double B steers ended up.’

  ‘But there’s no proof of wrongdoing,’ McEnroe complained. ‘The two men who likely brought the cattle to the slaughterhouse are dead.’

  Fielding bobbed his head in agreement with his sergeant. ‘We can’t post a man to watch them every day, and there’s no telling how often Pegg buys a few head of rustled cattle.’

  ‘We know what we’re up against,’ Jared said, displaying a wry grimace. ‘But we intend to do a little more snooping. If we uncover anything, we’ll let you know before we hang anyone.’

  McEnroe laughed. ‘Yeah, our captain and the judge both take a dim view of hangings without due process.’

  ‘Cousin Jared always gives them due process,’ Shane quipped. ‘After they confess, he gives them five minutes to pray for their souls . . . before he hangs them.’

  The two lawmen grinned at the remark and Fielding lifted his hand in farewell. As the two men walked away, Shane turned to Jared.

  ‘Now what?’

  ‘Guess we’ll give Wendy and July a day or two to do their job. If they come up empty, we will take a more direct approach.’

  ‘How about us? What do we do until then?’

  ‘Let’s check on Dodge, then ride out and spend the day with Pa. I’ll ride back and visit Wendy tomorrow and see how things are going. You’ve earned a day off.’

  ‘No argument from me. That cheap room you rented has harder beds than the ground we’ve been sleeping on for the past week.’

  It was something of a surprise to find Don Larson at his home. His wife answered the door, a matronly, though still attractive woman with laugh lines about her eyes and a ready smile. She greeted July and Wendy as if they were dear friends and invited them into her house. Don entered the family room as they sat down side by side on a worn, but comfortable sofa.

  ‘We don’t get many visitors this far out of town,’ Gayle said, after handing each of them a glass of lemonade. ‘Donny has been working a lot of extra hours so this week Mr Pegg is balancing the scales.’

  ‘Cheaper than adding up all of the hours and paying me extra,’ Don added with a grin.

  ‘We don’t want to take a lot of your time,’ July told them. ‘Hate to intrude on anything special you have planned.’

  ‘What brings you out here to see me?’ Don asked
them.

  July explained they were auditors from the governor’s office, researching the beef industry from source to market.

  ‘We were told you were an honest man,’ Wendy jumped in. ‘It’s why we chose to speak to you first.’

  ‘First?’

  ‘You may not be aware of it,’ she continued, ‘but over five hundred head of cattle have been misappropriated in eastern Colorado during the past eighteen months. On the surface, twenty-five to thirty head of cattle disappearing each month is not a huge amount. However, the smaller ranchers are struggling to survive and a couple are failing due to these losses.’

  ‘What does this have to do with Donny?’ his wife asked, her concern shining in her eyes.

  July put forth an austere aspect. ‘We heard talk that the slaughterhouse where you work . . . uh’ – he searched for the proper word – ‘processed a large number of beef within the past ten days.’

  ‘Why should that matter?’ Don asked.

  Wendy was quick to respond. ‘We spoke to a couple of range detectives. They claimed to have tracked a small herd of misappropriated cattle to your work place.’

  Don frowned, suddenly wary, though he didn’t become hostile. ‘We did handle a fairly large number of beef in the last ten days. As to an actual count or where they came from, I have no idea.’

  ‘You didn’t get a look at them when they were in the holding corral?’ July wanted to know. ‘Perhaps saw what brand they were carrying?’

  ‘I glanced out the back door the day they arrived and was surprised to see the pen was full to overflowing,’ he admitted. ‘But I never concern myself with brands or such. I couldn’t tell you anything about them other than they were prime beef. That much I know from cutting and packaging the meat.’

  ‘Don only sees a side of beef at a time,’ Gayle stated. ‘His work all comes from the meat locker, after the cattle have been dressed and hung on meat hooks.’

  Wendy took on a serious, yet understanding look. ‘We are not making charges against anyone for any crime,’ she assured the couple. ‘However, two men attempted to kill those range detectives last night, and we’re pretty sure the two culprits had a connection to where you work.’

  ‘Connection? Who were they?’ Don wanted to know. ‘There’s only a half-dozen of us working full time.’

  ‘The names of the two men were Rex Anderson and Orion Dekay.’

  ‘Pierce Mantee’s men!’ Don said, not hiding his distaste. ‘The two of them helped Everett with the skinning and then took the hides to the tannery. Everett mentioned their names when complaining to me how little help they were.’

  ‘How about this Everett?’ July asked. ‘Any chance he would tell us about the brands on those cattle?’

  ‘I don’t know. He isn’t much for talking. He has been working for Pegg and his father for the past half-dozen years.’

  ‘Would you expect him to be a part of any misappropriation of cattle?’ Wendy put forth the question.

  ‘Everett is a working fool. He does a job very few men would want. He doesn’t complain about the pay – and I suspect he will be guarded about saying anything bad about either Singeon or Bingham Pegg. Other than slaughterhouse work I can’t think of one other job he would be qualified for.’

  ‘So it’s a father-and-son business?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘Bingham is pretty much retired. He did come in to help with the meat cutting, but he turned the place over to his son a couple years ago. The old man isn’t much of a talker, but he did say he was amazed at how his son had been able to turn a much better profit than he ever did.’

  ‘We were told Pegg ran you out of business,’ Wendy changed the subject. ‘That would be Singeon?’

  ‘Yeah, he undercut our prices when we refused his offer to sell his beef on a commission basis.’ Don grunted. ‘Worse, as I had no facilities to butcher my own beef, we were forced to buy most of the meat from him to start with. He doesn’t do only wholesale like most slaughterhouses, he also does retail. He sells to practically every outlet in the valley – that’s what my job is, the cutting and packaging of those orders.’

  ‘Stanley, from the little shop in town, told us a little about it. He said the profit for his store came mostly from chicken and pork, because he couldn’t compete with the prices of the slaughterhouse on beef.’ Wendy smiled. ‘He’s the one who told us you were an honest man.’

  ‘He can afford to be generous now,’ Gayle complained. ‘When we opened up our store, he was not so kind with his words.’

  ‘Because you were in competition with him,’ July postulated. ‘Now he can tell the truth about you.’

  ‘If Mr Pegg is involved in something illegal,’ Gayle appeared worried, ‘will that mean Donny might lose his job?’

  ‘The need for beef won’t change in the valley,’ July said. ‘There has to be a slaughterhouse to handle the demand. It’s them cattle which are miss-propriated that we’re concerned about.’

  Wendy flicked a glance at him and July flinched, knowing he had misused a word and used poor grammar in his delivery. However, the Larsons didn’t appear to notice.

  ‘Everett’s place is north of here about a mile. He’s married to a gal who was widowed during the Indian wars. She had a couple kids and he needed a housekeeper. She and her kids attend church regularly, but Everett doesn’t want to give up his one day off a week. He mostly goes fishing on our usual day off.’

  ‘We’re much obliged to you for speaking to us,’ July said. ‘And thank you kindly for the lemonade. It was real good.’

  Wendy rose to her feet with July. ‘Yes, we would appreciate your not speaking of our visit or purpose, Mr and Mrs Larson. The range detectives’ investigation is ongoing, and it might be some time before they reach any conclusions.’

  ‘And if they find Pegg is buying stolen beef?’ Don wanted to know.

  ‘It’s like we first advised you, the need for the slaughterhouse will remain. If Mr Pegg should be involved and charged with a crime, I’m sure he will appoint someone to keep his business going. If not, I know of a small town that could use a good meat-cutter. It would mean moving some distance, but it’s a very nice place for raising children.’

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ Gayle said. ‘We’re quite happy here.’

  ‘We will have to see what the future has in store for all of us,’ Wendy offered. ‘Thank you so much for speaking to us.’

  Pegg frowned, reading the dispatch that had arrived by a town courier. The news was not good. He paced the room for a bit and then called Louie in from where he had been sweeping floors.

  ‘What’s up, Mr Pegg?’ Louie asked.

  Louie was twenty years old and a hard worker. He had been raised by a strict father and did not question any order given to him. Everett would sometimes tease the young man, but Louie had no temper. He was about as easygoing as a dandelion.

  ‘I’ve a couple errands for you to run.’

  ‘Sure thing, Mr Pegg. Whatever you need.’

  ‘Ride over to Everett’s place and tell him to be watchful for any strangers who might come nosing about. Any questions about our operation, he is to refer them to me.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Then run out to the Big M and speak to Pierce Mantee,’ Pegg instructed. ‘Tell him I would like to see him this afternoon.’

  ‘Sure thing, Mr Pegg,’ Louie replied. ‘You want I should tell him the same as Everett?’

  ‘No, he knows how to handle snoops. Just tell him I want a word with him.’

  ‘How about Don Larson?’

  Pegg didn’t want to raise an alarm and he knew from experience that Don never looked at the live cattle. Some men were like that – once the animal was butchered, they could dice and slice and cut meat from calf, lamb or fawns, but they didn’t want to see the critter beforehand. It wasn’t exactly a weakness, more of a desire to separate the living from the dead. He shook his head.

  ‘Just what I’ve told you.’

  ‘OK, M
r Pegg,’ Louie accepted the orders. ‘Talk to Everett, then tell Mr Mantee to come and see you.’

  ‘Oh, and Louie?’ Pegg stopped him before he could get out the door. The young man looked over his shoulder, waiting. ‘If anyone should ask you about your job here, about what we do, anything at all . . . you refer them to me. Understand?’

  ‘You don’t want me to talk to no strangers about my job or anything to do with this place.’

  ‘That’s it exactly.’

  ‘You can trust me, Mr Pegg. I won’t tell anybody nuthen about nuthen.’

  ‘Good boy,’ Pegg praised him.

  Louie stood poised, waiting, in case Pegg had anything else to tell him. When he waved his hand in a dismissing gesture, the young man went out the door.

  Next thing, Pegg visited Ingram, who was dumping fat into a cooking vat. He had dozens of tubs waiting to be processed. His two helpers were busy straining and using containers for the previous batch. The room smelled like old guts, combined with the greasy smell of fat. Rather than call him away from his duties, Pegg walked over to stand next to him.

  ‘Anyone been out to your place to visit you lately?’ he asked the man.

  ‘Not a soul,’ Ingram replied. ‘Why?’

  ‘There’s some people snooping around – I think they are looking for a reason to shut us down or maybe add some new tax to our operation.’

  ‘Never knew we had any problems with taxes or competition.’

  ‘Well, the governor is behind it, so I suspect he’s looking for ways to add more money to his budget.’

  Ingram snorted. ‘Just what we need . . . more government sticking their noses into our business.’

  Pegg bobbed his head in agreement. ‘Well, I wanted you to know, in case some people showed up at your door.’

  ‘I’ll run ’em off with my scatter-gun!’

  Pegg raised his hands in a calming gesture. ‘I don’t think you need take it that far, Gabe. Just don’t give them any information about the how or why we do things the way we do – give them nothing about the cattle we process or our operation here. If they want questions answered, they can darn well talk to me.’