The sun glinted on the water soaked coat of the big dun stallion. He stood stock still on the rock covered bank of the river letting the water drip off beneath him. What was left of the afternoon sun helped to dry his glistening back. His reins trailed and there was no vegetation around for him to crop.
The animal was a welcome sight and the first thing Caleb Gant saw when he first popped up above the flowing waters of the river.
His lungs ached from holding his breath for so long as he plunged into the waters and sank to the bottom. He could feel the impact, of thrashing water above him as the horse had struggled to regain balance and control.
He had fought desperately to stay on the bottom of the river bed for the buoyancy pulled at him with urgent thrust. But, staying down was a must. Gant knew his pursuers would linger awhile to make sure he had not survived.
How long he needed to stay down he didn’t know. The time seemed interminable, but he knew it couldn’t have been long before his aching lungs needed to take in air. Involuntarily, he finally gave in and let himself drift upward. It seemed like a long time and the distance to the surface seemed much farther away than the bottom had seemed when he plunged in just moments ago.
Up, up he lifted. Then suddenly as the surface broke and his head lifted above water, he exhaled, relieving the awful pressure in his chest. He swallowed a huge gulp of air. That hurt too. Water dripped from his soaked and matted hair, filling his eyes and momentarily blinding him. The water smarted them and blurred his vision. He hoped desperately that his attackers were not still around. If so, they could easily pick him off before he could see them. He readied himself for the fatal shots.
The liquid washed away before he could realize that the danger had passed and no bullet would be waiting for him. The dun on the shore came into view first and then he lifted his eyes to the rim up above. No one was there. He treaded water; legs kicking and arms smoothing the surface in circles.
The first flash of sunlight was blinding to his water soaked eyes, but his vision cleared enough to see that his attackers were not around. He continued to tread water for a few moments, regaining his strength and regulating his breathing to a normal rhythm. Then he swam to shore. He found his hat where it had drifted against the rocks alongside the river bed. He poured the water out of it as he stepped to the waiting horse. The dun neighed softly; glad to see his master. He too had been shaking off the horrors of the plunging fall and the shock of engulfing waters.
There was still some sun remaining above the far horizon; the lower half of the orb now hidden, beginning to cast shadows of the faraway mountains, spreading like needles across the valley.
Caleb Gant had followed the river for several miles before it began to curve toward the west away from the rocky outcrop. Here was where he had found the trail that led eastward into the into the valley. This had to be the way The Whispering Bandit had left the hideout that Caleb had seen from the top of the ridge earlier in the day.
His suspicions were confirmed when he finally came across the secluded cabin. It was the one he had seen earlier that day. The corral was there too, only now it was empty. All seemed quiet around him. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, but he still put caution first. Even if the bandit were not here at the moment, he could be returning at any time. He slid his six shooter out of its holster.
He dropped the reins. He had been leading the dun ever since the river and had advanced on foot. Now, letting the reins trail; leaving the horse ground hitched and free to graze. The floor of the valley was lush with greenery.
Slowly and cautiously, Caleb approached the cabin; arm outstretched forward, pushing the gun out in front of him. Stealthily, he stepped to the door of the cabin. He halted. Listened closely at the door. Heard no movement in side.
With a quick shove, he flung the door open wide with a crash. He jumped inside, taking a stance and readying himself. He waved his pistol from side to side as his eyes roamed about the interior of the cabin.
No one! The cabin was empty!
Caleb let out a sigh and relaxed; straightening his body and standing fully erect.
The cabin interior was filthy dirty; full of dust and thick cobwebs hanging from the rafters. Obviously, this cabin had been abandoned and left unused for quite some time. However there were signs of recent occupancy. The dusty floor showed footprints and recent activity. The little wooden table and two broken chairs in the middle of the room had been moved a few times, leaving elongated tracks.
There was an old broken down pot-bellied stove at the rear of the cabin. The stove pipe above it was broken and the top section was missing; lying on the dust encrusted floor. It hadn’t been moved in ages.
What interested Caleb the most was that there was a pile of firewood stacked in the corner next to the stove. It was freshly cut and still green. Why?
Caleb holstered his pistol and squatted down in front of the pile and started pulling the chunks of wood apart. It didn’t take him long to find loot hidden beneath the pile. There were canvas bags with express company and stagecoach name imprints. There were also several bundles of banded cash. This was The Whispering Bandit’s stash.
Caleb whistled to himself and estimated there was upwards of fifty thousand dollars there, just before a solid blow to the back of his neck turned the lights out on and he pitched forward onto his face, sliding crumpled in a heap on the dusty floor where he lay unconscious with the last remaining light of day seeping through the open doorway casting a faint glow across his still body.
The last of the sun was almost gone when Caleb Gant began to regain consciousness. He hadn’t been out that long. The open doorway was filled with the grey of approaching dusk and against that backdrop he could see the silhouettes of two people; just heads and shoulders as they were kneeling on the floor before him, trying to help him sit up.
“Are you all right, Mister Gant?” It was a feminine voice and it was familiar, if only vaguely. He had only heard it once before.
Caleb came to a sitting position and the two figures above him parted somewhat; just enough for Caleb to see one was a woman, even though she wore range clothes and hat. The other was a Mexican man. Advanced in years. Seemed familiar also, but Caleb couldn’t place him.
“What are you doing out here?” The woman asked.
“You.. you are…..” Caleb tried to remember.
“Jeanne Harding,” she said. “You’re on Bar H range. What are you doing out here?”
“Yes..yes. I remember now,” Caleb said, rubbing the back of his neck. It still hurt and there was a throb in his head. “You were at the church. You have a thing going with the parson.”
Her eyes flashed with anger, but she didn’t respond to the insinuation. “I ask you again, Mister Gant,” she said with irritation. “What are you doing out here and what happened to you?”
“I might ask you the same question, Miss Harding,” Caleb said. He was sitting fully erect now. He checked his holster and found his weapon was still there. “How is it you happen to be here?”
“I’m asking the questions,” she said. “This is my range and my line shack.”
“Well it happens to be the hideout of The Whispering Bandit.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Maybe not, Senorita,” the Mexican put in. “After all, we did have reports that someone might be using this shack.”
“You’re right, Juan,” the Harding girl said, thinking about it. “That’s what brought us out here.” The explanation was for Caleb’s benefit as well as an answer to her companion.” We haven’t used this cabin in a long time. Not since Dave Bishop took over Bar H land south of here. We don’t have any stock around here anymore.”
“Juan? Juan?” Caleb said, trying to remember. Then suddenly he did. “Aren’t you the hostler I saw today at the Ladder A?”
“Si.”
“Juan’s not a hostler for Ladder A. He works for me. Sometimes he does work for others. Even Bart Allen. Neither one of us approves, but a day’s pay is
still a day’s pay. Allen’s money is as good as any, even if it is stolen.”
“You don’t like Bart Allen much, I gather,” Caleb mused.
“If you’ve talked to anyone around Gila Bend, I’m sure you already know about my trouble with Bart Allen. He’s been trying to drive me out. He wants what I have left of the Bar H, but I won’t sell, so he rustles my stock. It’s easy for him to brand over the Bar H with the ladder A.”
“I wouldn’t think a man as rich as Bart Allen would have to rustle cattle,” Caleb put in.
“He only does it to hurt me,” she said. “The more cattle I lose, the less profit I can make. I’m almost on the ropes now. And with Dave Bishop marrying Allen’s daughter, between the two of them they’ve got me boxed in on both sides. They could put both ranches together and all they would need would be my land that’s in the middle. I wouldn’t even be surprised if Bishop is rustling my cattle too. Bar H can easily be changed to Box B too.”
“I thought I heard that you and Dave were once an item,” Caleb mused.
“I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of things, Mister Gant,” she snipped. “Lots of things that don’t concern you.”
Then she added acidly, “I understand you asked Bart Allen for a job.” It was more of a question.
Caleb didn’t bother to answer, he merely said, “I’m more interested in the reward for The Whispering Bandit.”
“And, you think he’s using this shack as a hideout?”
“I saw him here earlier. His black stallion too. He was in the corral outback. Take a look. You’ll see it’s been used and I found his stash right here.” He swiveled around toward the pile of wood, It was no longer a pile. The wood was strewn all over the floor and all of the money was gone.
It was fully dark by the time Caleb Gant rode back into the town of Gila Bend. It was another clear night. Stars studded the purple sky and the coolness of a summer night after the heat of a hot day was refreshing.
Mose Brillick was just closing up for the day when Caleb rode in and put his horse away in the stable.
“What do you know about a man named Juan, Mose?” he asked. He works for Jeanne Harding.”
“Nice fella,” Mose mused. “Juan Mendez is his full name. Good with horses. I guess that’s where Pablo gets it.”
“Pablo?”
“Yeah. Pablo’s Juan’s grandson. Pablo’s parents are both dead. Juan took the boy in. They both live out at the Bar H.”
Things were getting curiouser and curiouser, Caleb thought to himself.
The Frontier House was a quaint little restaurant. Caleb had spent another long day without much to eat since early morning and he was extremely hungry. For some reason Caleb had not wanted to take more advantage of Michael Avery’s hospitality by eating at either the Chessman or the dining room at the Castle hotel. He didn’t like Avery and he was convinced that he had something to do with the men who had been attacking him. He was curious, however, if Pete Stover had returned to the Chessman. If he hadn’t, Caleb would be more sure than ever that he had been the man he wounded the other night. But, if he had returned, there might be a confrontation between him and Gant. Caleb had decided that he was too tired and hungry to pursue the matter. He had had enough for one day. Tomorrow would be soon enough to stir the pot some more.
A matronly middle aged woman, slightly overweight and graying hair tied in a bun at the back of her head, greeted Caleb as he entered the cafe and ushered him across the room toward a table in the back.
The restaurant was not busy for this time of night, for the supper hour had already passed. As Caleb made his way to the table, Helen Brent, sitting alone at another table, caught his eye. She waved to him and motioned for him to join her.
“This will be fine,” Caleb said to the hostess, turning and heading toward Helen’s table.
“Join me,” She said as he came close.
He grinned and sat down, placing his hat on the table next to him.
Helen had an empty coffee cup on the table and her plate was nearly empty.
“You look a little worse for wear,” she observed as he settled himself.
“Long day.”
“Your clothes are in bad shape. Looks like you went swimming in them.”
“Hot day. Saved time.”
She eyed him curiously.
“What can I get for you, sir,” the matronly lady asked, still standing next to him.
Caleb quickly gave her his order and she shuffled away quickly.
“Well, I hope you had fun,” Helen added, drawing his attention back to her.
“Not exactly,” Caleb said dryly.
“I heard you’re looking for The Whispering Bandit. For the reward, I mean. Somehow I never pegged you for a bounty hunter.”
Caleb shrugged, neither admitting nor denying.
“No luck, though,” Helen said knowingly.
“What makes you think so?”
“Because Gib Randall almost got him this afternoon. Tried to hold up the stage but Gib interrupted him. For once he didn’t get what he wanted, but Gib didn’t get him either.”
“That still leaves the opportunity open for me.”
“If I were you, I’d leave the bandit to Gib. He’s a good sheriff. He’ll get him eventually.”
“And, if you were me, then what would I do then?”
“I’d think about getting out of town.”
“You want me to go?”
“For your own good, only,” Helen said softly, touching his arm. “Of course I would like you to stay, but you’ve made an enemy out of Dirk Bennett and I’m afraid of what he might do to you.”
“Or what I might do to him?”
“That too. I wouldn’t want either one of you to get hurt. I’ve told him that but he’s a hothead. He’s convinced you are after me. I told him he’s wrong and said he was immature. He is and I don’t want him hanging around me anymore. Now he blames you. Says he’s going to kill you.”
“I don’t pay much attention to what people say.”
“Maybe you should,” Helen said indignantly and arose from her chair, tossing her napkin on the table, turned and walked brusquely away. The waitress had just returned with Caleb’s meal.
Caleb had just turned to his plate when he heard another feminine voice behind him. He looked up and saw Callie Parker standing there. “Trouble with your girlfriend, Mister Gant?” She asked. There had been an emphasis on the word ‘girlfriend,’ almost with a hint of jealousy.
Again Caleb neither admitted nor denied. “Aren’t you supposed to be working at the Chessman about now?” He asked.
“In a bit,” she answered. “On my way there now. How come you didn’t go to the Chessman for dinner? I missed you.”
“I didn’t want to overdo Mister Avery’s hospitality. Besides, what are you doing here?”
“I saw you come in. I just came in to say hello.”
“Then why don’t you sit for a while.”
“Thanks,” she said spreading her blue gingham gown and sitting. She pushed Helen Brent’s dishes aside.
“Tell me,” Caleb said. “Is Pete Stover on duty tonight?”
“Why, yes. Why do you ask?”
“We didn’t exactly hit it off too well. Maybe I should stay away from the Chessman for a while.”
Maybe Stover was not one of the men, then, Caleb thought to himself.
“Don’t worry about, Pete, Caleb.” He noticed how she spoke his name. “But, you might want to be careful. There were two men in the Chessman today asking about you.”
“Two men?” Caleb’s interest peaked. His back stiffened. “Do you know who they were?”
“Never saw them before. I got the impression that they were not friends of yours.”
“Did you happen to get their names?”
“No, but I gather they were brothers. They looked pretty rough.”
The Lowery brothers! So, it was them that had been dogging him, after all.
“Are they still there?” C
aleb asked.
“No. They came in, asked around, then left. Haven’t seen them since. Maybe they’ve already left town. They didn’t look like they had the price of a room here in town.”
“Maybe I ought to steer clear of the Chessman for a while,” Caleb mused thoughtfully, avoiding Callie’s eyes.
“That would be a shame,” she said. “I’d like to see you, again. I’ll see to it that our good sheriff protects you.” There was a hint of humor in her words. Obviously, she thought Caleb Gant was a man who could take care of himself. “So come around anyways.” She smiled coyly as she stood and walked away; her gown rustling as she moved.
As the cafe door closed behind her, Caleb once again turned to his plate. Yes sir, he thought, ‘things are getting curiouser and curiouser…….and dangerous!’
****
Chapter Fourteen
The Whispering Bandit Page 13