"Of course. I'm happy to co-operate."
"Your brother thinks it's the doc." Jim didn't know why he blurted that at him, but it was out before he could stop it.
Jed stared at him a long time. "Well he is kind of a candidate, since he knows how to saw bones. But I think he's barkin' up the wrong tree. The doc, this doc, at least is way too sophisticated to do something as barbaric as this. Don't you think."
"I agree. Any butcher can saw bones, Jed."
Jed hung his head, as though wrestling with that idea. "I guess you are right."
"Good day, I'll be talking to you." Jim nodded and rode back to the ranch.
Chapter Eight
The Ranchers
Talbut was hammering a horse-shoe when Jim walked inside the barn. Jim looked about as he walked toward him. There were multiple stalls, a ladder leading to the loft, and hay scattered everywhere. His men didn't keep a neat barn, he observed.
The big burley man saw him but didn't say a word. He continued to hammer and Jim was wondering if he would stop long enough so he could talk to him. When he didn't, Jim decided to ask.
"You're name Talbot?"
"That's right." The man finally put the hammer down and lowered the shoe into the water to cool.
"I'd like to ask you a few questions. If you don't mind."
"Ask."
"How long you been butchering for Mr. Taylor?"
"Nearly ten years, why?"
"That's a spell, you must like it here."
"I'm satisfied."
"How often do you butcher for him?"
"'Bout every two weeks, as needed. Unless he's throwin' one of those parties of his. Then it's more. But he usually roasts a whole pig, so he don't need me fer that, just the skinning is all."
"You like it here?"
"It suits. You the Sheriff?" Talbot stared at him, his eyes dropping to the tin star.
"That's right."
"You think I done that killin' over at the Perkins place?" Talbot's face wadded into a frown. Jim could see the bristling of his neck muscles as he spoke.
"No, I just wanted to see and feel you out. I don't think you done it? But I have to ask questions or others will think I'm not doing my job."
Talbot nodded.
"Mind if I look around?" Jim asked watching his face for signs of anxiety.
"Help yourself."
"Thanks."
Jim looked around the barn. It was messy, and the man he was looking at was certainly not clean. The mess didn't seem to affect him one way or another. Jim wandered about the barn, noting the dung in the stalls, things not put away, and general chaos. He had to wonder about Jed allowing such a mess on his property, but then maybe he was too busy out in the pastures to worry with things like that.
Talbot looked at him strangely then went back to work on the horse shoe.
Not that it was commonplace to be messy, but most ranches were not always neatly taken care of. The house was quite grand, Jim had never been inside, as Jed was not sociable with the Sheriff. Many of the ranchers weren't.
Jim noted the fact that this man was totally unclean and he stunk as though he'd worked up a day's sweat. In fact, Jim had the urge to hold his nose, but he didn't. The man worked hard, and even he could see that. He couldn't see him as the killer no matter how many times he tried to reason it out. The man didn't fit what he was looking for. Jim went on instinct a lot and his gut told him that Talbot wasn't the man he was looking for.
"Thanks Talbot." He finally said and walked slowly out of the barn. He wrote down a few things so he could remember them and left.
Talbot was too messy to be the killer. The killer had cleaned up after himself, as though he were used to doing so. Now that was a clue. As though he were used to doing so. Why would a man clean up after himself. Because he had a woman nagging him maybe. Interesting. Was the killer married? Did he have a family to feed, and maybe tried to talk Perkins out of a beef or two? Could it be that simple?
He rode out to the Evans ranch and Mrs. Evans was chopping wood. The way she slung that axe had Jim taking notes on her too. She had almost as much muscle behind it as a man. So a woman would be capable of a lot more than he ever thought. He couldn't completely rule out a woman either.
"Good day, Mrs. Evans," He tipped his hat so as not to startle her.
"Why Sheriff, what brings you out here?" She asked her voice like syrup. Mrs. Evans was a woman of near forty who seemed very lonely to Jim. He knew her husband pretty well, but he hadn't been around her much. She had that faraway look in her eyes every time he saw her as though she were dreaming of the day she would not have to do anything for herself or her family.
"Mrs. Evans, I need to talk with your husband."
"'Bout the killins' I reckon." She finished for him.
"Yeah," he did a double take of her. As she picked up the firewood and put it on the porch's edge. Then she ran to grab a chicken. Jim could easily see that she was used to such work, and although she didn't cater to it, she was as good as any ranch wife in the area.
She grabbed a fine specimen of chicken, took it in one hand and began ringing it's neck. Jim watched in total fascination. The woman was strong. She proceeded to chop his head off and defeather it right there on the chopping block. She wasn't as squeamish as the doc had been when they took down Perkin's body.
He hadn't said another word. His mind was working overtime. It really could be a woman. It could be this woman.
"He ain't here, he's out on the range, somewhere. He'll be in for supper if you've a mind to wait, or you can strike out after him. He is in the southern pasture today." She offered the information.
"I'll see if I can find him."
"I'll have supper ready in a couple of hours, if you are still around, you're welcome to join us. We don't get much company, except for the boys that work here." She smiled up at him.
"Thank you ma'am." Jim tipped his hat and rode out to the south pasture. His mind played and replayed how she had wrung that chickens neck, it seemed to come natural to her. And she didn't blink an eye when she chopped it's head off either, nor when blood splattered all over the place. He stopped and made note of it.
He found Mr. Evans chasing calves out of the brambles. The man was a healthy cowboy of fifty and kept himself slim and trim. His brown hair was barely graying, his blue eyes spoke honesty. Jim wondered if that pretty wife of his was the reason he kept himself up so well.
When Evans saw him he pulled up close. "Sheriff what brings you out here?"
"Got some questions I want to ask you. If you can spare the time."
"This is about the Perkins killins' ain't it?"
"That's right."
"Don't know nothin' about it, ain't talked to Perkins in over a year. Dern fool is too hard headed."
"Why you say that?" Jim asked innocently.
"The man don't listen to reason. He thinks the almighty dollar will get him everything he wants. He's sadly mistaken. He didn't have no hands, because no one would work for him long. And he sure didn't take what he had with him."
"I guess not, although according to the judge his property is paid for and they are waiting to see if the only known relative is going to claim it. He lives up north. You and Perkins didn't get along?"
"He swindled me once out of some cow money and I never got it back. I didn't take kindly to it. Still don't. Ain't sorry he's dead, but I didn't have anything to do with it."
Jim nodded. "I really didn't think you did."
"Then why you here?"
"Because I need answers. I need to find out who did this. I got a town full of restless people that might do something really stupid if I don't find the killer soon."
"Yep, it always happens when there's a killin'. The mobs come out of the woodwork, eager to hang anyone."
"They are accusing the doc."
"Doc Peters?" Evan squinted in the sunlight.
"Yeah. You know him?"
"Why shore, he took care of my daughter, Elizab
eth when she came down with the consumption. If he hadn't have been here, she'd of died. I owe him. And he ain't the kind to kill anyone. Ain't got it in him, Sheriff."
Jim couldn't help but smile. "I think you are right about that. So…who does your butchering?"
"Butchering? What's that got to do with anything?"
"Aside from a doctor, butchers are next on my list. The killer may be a butcher."
Evans looked shocked. "Well, I take mine to Elmer over in Cross Timbers. He's the best I know around here. Been using him nigh onto three years, since Talbot started saying no to it after our last ruckus."
"Cross Timbers is a ways to go for butcherin' isn't it?"
"Yeah, but the man is neat and clean and my missus likes that. He does the best work, cuts the fat off as much as he can. It's worth it, Mrs. Evans will tell you."
"I see. What is Elmer's last name?"
Evans scratched his head as he took his hat off and wiped the sweat away with his shirt sleeve. "You know I don't even know. Everybody just calls him Elmer. Unless I'm signing a contract, I don't fool with last names much. But he's easy enough to find, his sister runs the only café in town."
Jim wrote the name down and something in his gut made him take note of the fact that Elmer was neat and clean about his work.
"Well thank you Mr. Evans. I appreciate the information."
"Elmer didn't do it, Sheriff. He ain't got a lot of sense. But he's tender hearted and he'd never do something like that. My dog died a few months back and Elmer cried like a baby when he saw the grave we dug him. He spends all his time helpin' his sister run that café. A man like that wouldn't kill nobody."
"Maybe he isn't the one, but I'll keep him in mind."
Mr. Evans nodded.
"It ain't the doc either, Sheriff. Whoever you are lookin' for is not a good person. To do what they did, I just cain't believe it."
"Yeah…" Jim firmed his lips. "Well, I'll be on my way, got a few more stops."
"Hope you catch them, Sheriff."
"Me too, me too." Jim repeated.
Chapter Nine
Cal Harding
Jim had one more rancher to talk to on his list. Cal Harding. Cal was a loner and hardly ever got to town. He had a small ranch on the north side of the Evans ranch. It was a long way from town, and he wished he hadn't come. It was late and he needed to get back to town, but he also needed to talk to Cal. Especially since Cal lived alone.
Cal only had a couple hundred head of cattle, but that was all he could handle alone.
Unlike others, he refused to hire more help or breed his cattle.
As Jim approached, it was very quiet. That same unease crawled up Jim's back and neck. He had to admit he was tired of this feeling, like a warning going off in his head.
Almost nothing moved, except the barn door was open. It kept banging and reminded Jim of Perkin's front door.
Jim glanced around. A few chickens scattered about his feet as he moved toward the house.
Jim was spooked when one of the hens flew in the air to escape his strides.
No one answered the door. Jim dreaded what he felt he had to do. But if Cal was dead, he'd be in the cornfield most likely. Cal's field was smaller, but he had a scarecrow erected to scare off birds.
Jim moved toward the scarecrow carefully. With a dread that stopped his breathing and his heart, he jerked the hat off the scarecrow, and sure enough, there was Cal Harding, hung like a scare crow.
Jim pitched his breakfast right then, and walked off. He couldn't look at the man. His face was contorted and evil looking, like he'd gone through enormous pain.
Going through this routine once was bad enough, but now for a third time he was going to have to remove the body.
He looked around the ground, again no blood. He felt the arms and legs, no arms, no legs. He shook his head.
Did Evans know?
They were neighbors. Didn't anyone check on this poor old fella, Jim thought with sorrow.
This time he was too far out and couldn't go to town for witnesses and for help, unless he went to Evans.
He realized with some regret that he just wasn't sure he could take care of this…alone.
The sun was setting when he rode into the Evans yard. He knocked on the front door and Mrs. Evans answered it. "Why Sheriff, did you decide to have a bite with us?"
"Yes, ma'am." Jim nodded.
She let him in and her husband looked surprised to see him.
"Back so soon, Sheriff?"
"Saul, how long has it been since you seen Cal Harding?" Jim asked as he took at chair at the table.
"A while. He ain't real social. 'Course he does his own work so he's always busy. Why?" Saul asked.
"I've just come from there, he's dead." Jim announced and the Mrs. almost dropped the dumplings she made for supper.
"Dead?"
"Just like Perkins…." Jim left that an open statement open so as not to scare Mrs. Evans.
Saul's mouth fell open in complete surprise. "You don't mean it."
"'Fraid so."
"You mean the killer was that close to us?" Mrs. Evans asked as she put the dumpling on the table now. Her face had paled and the normally healthy looking woman looked peaked.
"Yes ma'am. Saul I'm gonna need some help over there. Can you oblige me?"
"Sure. Be glad to. I'll miss old Cal, he was a good neighbor. Least I can do is see he's laid to rest proper." Saul dug into the dumplings.
"Yeah, he was a quiet one. If I hadn't been out this far, he might not have been discovered before the birds picked him." Then he raised his head and saw the terror on Mrs. Evans face.
He made a note to scratch her name off the list, as she was white as a sheet and shaking. A real killer wouldn't have had a reaction at all.
"I'll get the boys to come over with you too. This is terrible." Saul said.
"Cal was a sweet man, too proud to ask for help." Mrs. Evans murmured.
A tear fell down and hit the plate, she went back to the kitchen to clean it.
"You know whoever is doing this, doesn't seem interested in taking the cattle, that puzzles me." Jim remarked.
"Yeah, a smart man would have taken them."
"Course I didn't do a head count, but according to my records that I pulled from the Association, Cal didn't have but a couple hundred head. We'll need to count them." Jim said. "I wouldn't ask for the help, but my deputy is keeping an eye on the town and it's too far away to go there and come back."
"I don't mind helpin' you a bit." Saul said. "The sooner you find this nut, the better."
"Mrs. Evans, your stew is so good."
"Thank you Sheriff. You know, I just can't get poor ole Cal out of my mind. I'm not even sure he knew about Perkins dying. He was a man that kept to himself, minded his own business and never bothered a soul."
Jim reflected on that. Unlike Perkins, Cal was well liked and respected. He didn't have enough cattle to even worry with as far as stealing. Why did the killer pick on him? It didn't add up.
"I am leaning on the idea that this isn't a cattleman's work. It's something else. But what?"
"Perkins had a lot of enemies. So I thought when I heard about it, it could be anyone. But Cal, naw, he was a good fella. Got along with everyone. He'd help a friend out any time. Never ask for none himself."
Jim nodded his mind working as they spoke.
Where was the connection, except both men were ranchers. What did that have to do with anything?
They didn't steal the cows.
"Could have been mountain men passin' through wanting beef for their supper and getting caught at stealing. Or maybe they just got mad when Cal wouldn't give them any."
"Mountain men?"
"Sure sometimes they wander down here from Colorado after they have sold their pelts."
"I don't think so."
"Not unless they are very neat."
"What you mean?"
"I mean whoever killed Perkins was very neat and clean. T
he area around there had been picked up, his barn was tidy, his house wasn't ransacked. Everything was where it should be. Just too tidy. Not a drop of blood on the ground."
"Did you look around Cal's place."
"Not thoroughly, no. I wanted some witnesses and help before I go snoopin'."
Saul nodded.
When they got ready to leave, Saul stood in front of his wife, kissed her on the cheek and gave her strict instructions. "Don't open the door for anyone. Even if you know them. Understand?"
"Yes dear." She answered.
"Good, we'll be back as soon as we can take care of this."
She nodded "Be careful…"
Chapter Ten
Saul's Help
"Do you know if Cal had any kin?" Jim asked as they rode together over to his ranch.
Saul didn't answer right away, and when he did there was a huskiness to his voice. "He had a daughter somewhere back east. That's about all I know. Don't know what happened to his wife, but she's buried there on the ranch."
"I'll have to put some telegrams out. Anyone know the daughter's name?"
"Sandra, I think…" Saul said.
"Was she married?"
"Not as far as I know. He told me he shipped her off to her kinfolk in Philadelphia when her Ma died. She'd be grown by now, but I don't know if she's married."
"The title to the land is clear, so if she is, it's hers as the next of kin." Jim informed him. "I talked to Cal some time back and he wanted me to know his land was paid up. I told him I had nothing to do with that. He said he just wanted me to know."
"Hope you can locate her."
"So do I? I took the necessary papers to the judge about Mr. Perkins place and he said there was a legal will. It'll go to his nephew in Oklahoma. I've been in touch with him and he's coming out soon to look at the property and see if he wants to sell it, or move here."
"Does he know how his Uncle was killed?"
"No. I thought I'd save that until he arrives. After all, we want him to settle up the estate, and if I told him, he might not come."
Good Day for a Hanging (Book Two of the Western Serial Killers series) Page 8