Stone of Vengeance

by Vickie Britton

  In no time she spotted a brand she recognized, the Rocking C of the Kingsley ranch. The rocking part, probably to make it different from other ranches by that name, was not attached to the C, but set several inches beneath it, forming a bow that looked like the mouth of a happy face. After examining the Kingsley cattle, she moved on.

  Further down the line, she located the Double S brand. The overflowing corral pointed to the fact that Sam Swen was the auction’s biggest consigner. Nothing surprising about that; Pauley’s was the closest cattle auction to Swen’s ranch, naturally he would do most of his selling here.

  Kate leaned over the fence to take a closer look. Was it her imagination, or did some of the brands look rough and uneven? Swen’s brand, consisting of two large S’s so close together that one was almost a shadow of the other, stood out much thicker and bolder than Kingsley’s imprint of the Rocking C. Kate took out a pad and pen and easily transformed a Rocking C into one of Swen’s large S’s, then she added another close beside it.

  Yet she couldn’t forget that Swen had complained of missing cattle, too. She drew a double S this time, but no matter what she did, the connection between the C and the rocking bar could not be hidden. It would be impossible to change an S into a Rocking C or at least very difficult. She imagined with some careful work it could be accomplished, but probably not without leaving behind some tell-tale signs of brand tampering. The fact that it would be so much easier for Swen to alter Kingsley’s brand to his own than vice versa gave more credibility to the fact that Swen had been stealing from Kingsley and not the other way around.

  Still it didn’t seem likely that Swen would risk selling Kingsley’s cattle at the same auction where the Rocking C did their trading. Unless Swen had got too bold, too sure of himself and Kingsley had, at this very auction, found proof that Swen was selling his cattle. If so, then Kingsley’s evidence for his lawsuit must have centred around alteration of his brand or some discrepancy in sales records held by the company.

  Kate, while she was here, would talk to the proprietor of Pauley’s Auction Barn. From Swen’s record of sales over the past few years, she might be able to detect suspicious rises in the number of cattle he had been selling; rises that might coincide with the dates on Kingsley’s missing stock.

  Feeling suddenly uneasy, Kate glanced around to see a skinny man, hands in the pockets of his jeans jacket, watching her. He turned away so swiftly she couldn’t see his face, only strands of stringy pale yellow hair poking from beneath the hat that slouched over his eyes.

  She started towards the main building, drawing to an uncertain halt beside a sign that read, ‘Auction 2p.m. Today’. She looked behind again, but the man who had been watching her must have ducked into one of the adjoining buildings. She passed through the double doors into an arena surrounded with bleachers, alive with loud conversation and movement, with the excitement of an auction.

  Kate followed a circular side corridor, which dead-ended into an open door marked ‘OFFICE’. She stepped into a waiting room cluttered with worn books and piles of cattle-and-feed magazines

  ‘What can I do you for?’ a voice called out over the waist-high partition. As he spoke he rose, leaning his arms on the frame that separated them and beaming an appreciative smile. ‘Auction starts in twenty minutes. Too late to consign today.’

  ‘I’m not here to sell cattle.’

  The smile grew wider, showing a spread of yellowed teeth. He sported a scraggly brown Willy Nelson style beard and a red baseball cap with the name Pauley’s Auction Barn emblazoned across the top. ‘Then what can I do for you, little lady?’

  ‘I need to talk to the manager.’

  ‘That would be me. Hank Pauley. In the flesh.’

  ‘I’m Kate Jepp from the sheriff’s department.’

  Pauley’s smile quickly faded. A wad of Skoal hit the nearby waste can, thudding as it struck the metal edge. ‘Where’s your uniform? Where’s your badge? How do I know you’re who you say you are?’ he asked suspiciously.

  Kate handed him ID marked ‘Belle County Sheriff’s Department, Kate Jepp, Deputy’.

  He studied it in a manner more belligerent now than suspicious, then returned it. ‘So what do you want?’

  ‘I need to take a look at the sales records of both Charles Kingsley and Sam Swen.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ve heard, haven’t you, about Mr Kingsley’s death? This is a routine part of our investigation.’

  ‘Routine, is it? Why’s that?’

  ‘Did Mr Kingsley ever talk to you about his cattle being rustled?’

  She waited for his answer. No matter what he claimed, Kate had already begun to question his honesty.

  ‘He never mentioned it to me,’ Pauley returned curtly.

  ‘I’d like to start with Swen’s bills of sales for the last two years.’

  This request brought a dark, sullen look to his eyes, a look of resistance. ‘All sales made through my auction house are confidential.’

  ‘Then it looks as if I’ll have to return with a court order.’

  ‘You just do that,’ Pauley snapped. ‘I don’t like being bullied, you need to understand that. And I’m not showing you anything until I see something official.’

  Pauley had won that round, and probably would the next one too. If some dirty dealing were going on, he’d use the time it would take her to get a warrant to make a new set of records, ones that would show no abnormalities. ‘Have you seen any evidence of tampering, of brand alteration in the cattle?’

  ‘Lady, I’m a square-shooter. If I don’t like the looks of the brand, I call Ben.’

  ‘To my knowledge you’ve never done that.’

  She should have stifled that comeback. Kate’s words brought an ugly, downward twist to his lips, a forewarning that he would say no more on the subject.

  They stared at one another. Out in the arena a booming voice sounded over the loudspeaker. ‘The sale starts in ten minutes. Be sure folks to get a number. You’ll want to be ready to bid. As you know, Pauley offers the best deals ever to go over the block.’

  ‘As you can see,’ Pauley said, ‘I have a business to run. And I can’t be letting you keep me from it.’

  Kate couldn’t force him to cooperate. All she could do was accept his dismissal and leave. She did so quickly, almost running squarely into the same man who had been watching her earlier. He stepped away from where he had been lurking close to the open doorway listening to their every word. Hurriedly, he pulled the brim of his hat lower over his face and ducked past her into the office. But not before she glimpsed his face, his long, angular features, his pasty skin.

  Frightening, she thought. She increased the pace of her steps, glad to join the crowd of people waiting for the sale to begin.

  Not until she was safe in her Landcruiser heading out of town did she begin to breathe easier. Even though she hadn’t found any clear-cut evidence, she had felt undercurrents of something amiss, which alerted her that she was on the right trail.

  At the outskirts of the small town of Downing, she turned on to a deserted road that offered a shortcut back to Rock Creek. Soon, hers was the only vehicle around. No movement, only miles of hills and sagebrush and a narrow asphalt trail filled with pits and ruts. Kate still wasn’t used to driving thirty or more miles without seeing so much as a town or even a gas station. She wondered if she would ever quite get used to the total isolation of the Wyoming countryside.

  Kate had driven for a number of miles before she noticed the Landcruiser was becoming very difficult to steer. Then a fierce wobbling started at the back wheel. Before she could pull over to stop, the vehicle veered crazily to the right. A loud thud sounded. She frantically gripped the wheel, but no longer had any control. Despite her attempts to keep it on the road, the Landcruiser careened to the side and plummeted over a steep embankment. She braced herself, expecting the heavy vehicle to roll, instead it came to a jolting stop midway down the slope.

  Images flashed
before her eyes, of night and the black truck that had crashed into her squad car. Eyes tightly closed, she slumped over the wheel, trying to catch her breath, trying to stop trembling. She could have been badly injured. As it was, she was only shaken and stranded.

  The Landcruiser sat at an uneven tilt. With some effort Kate pulled open the door and climbed out to appraise the damage. She had supposed she had blown a tyre, but to her amazement the one on the back passenger side had pulled completely loose from the axle.

  She stood, chilled by the sweeping wind. What would cause this to happen? As if in answer, the thin cruel features of the yellow-haired cowboy flashed before her. He had definitely been watching, eavesdropping on her conversation with Pauley. With the sale beginning, he could have returned to the fast-emptying parking lot and sabotaged her vehicle.

  But it was just as likely that some station attendant had forgotten to tighten the lug bolts when she had taken the vehicle in for new tyres a few days ago. Right now, that was what she preferred to believe.

  Kate shivered and reached into the front seat for her jacket, fumbling in the pocket for her cellphone. She suddenly had a visual image of it lying where she had left it on the kitchen table. That was the trouble with cellphones; she never had one handy when it was really needed.

  Kate slipped on her jacket. She located the tyre where it had come to a smashing stop in the rocky gully below. The accident had caused a split along the rim, but she had a spare that should get her home.

  Another gust of wind caused a chill to rush over her, even through the heavy jacket. All alone, on a seldom used road, she couldn’t help feeling vulnerable. Once more, the disturbing thought slipped into her mind that the cowboy might have set a trap, intending to waylay her.

  The thought brought with it fear and increased activity. She rolled the ruined tyre up to the Landcruiser where she took out the spare and the jack. She finally got the jack to hold against the uneven ground but knew, even as she did, that the task before her was hopeless. The way the heavy vehicle was positioned so askew, she would never be able to lift the back high enough to replace the tyre. Because of the precarious way the Landcruiser swayed to the side, steel from the tyreless frame embedded into earth, she wouldn’t even attempt to drive it back up to the road.

  Breathing hard, Kate abandoned her efforts and made her way up the slope. She stood, shivering as she looked up and down the road for the signs of a ranch, seeing only the dead stillness of endless grassland.

  She waited, feeling helpless, desperately hoping that some motorist would happen along. Kate had no sooner made the wish, than she heard the sound of a distant motor.

  Had it been approaching from the direction of the auction barn, she would have been afraid, but this vehicle was coming from Rock Creek, so whoever was behind the wheel could not have been following her.

  A polished Dodge truck with a showy, silver Double S ornament on the hood pulled to a stop. Sam Swen, taking his time, stepped out. He remained motionless for a while, the wind tugging at his tweed jacket and ruffling through his silver hair. Kate’s heart sank. He was last person she wanted to see now. His sudden appearance couldn’t spring from pure coincidence.

  Swen’s eyes, grey and narrowed, flitted toward the Landcruiser. ‘Looks as if you could use some help. Did you have a blowout?’

  ‘The tyre just came off – worked itself loose.’

  ‘Strange,’ he said, moving closer to appraise the situation. ‘I’ll have to get your Landcruiser out of that ditch before I can change the tyre. I’ve got a chain in my toolbox, so I’ll just pull it up to level ground.’

  He started to say something else but was stopped by the ringing of his cellphone. He took it from his pocket, saying, ‘Swen.’ He listened for a while, then spoke again, his voice lowering. ‘I’m going to be a little late.’ The response of the person on the other end of the line caused him to frown, to step away from Kate, as if to ensure privacy.

  Dread filled Kate. She couldn’t make out what Swen was saying, but as sure as if she had heard his every word, she knew the call concerned her. When he hung up she said, ‘I appreciate your help. If you can get the car levelled so my jack will work, I can do the rest. No use your missing an appointment.’

  ‘Call me old-fashioned,’ Swen said, ‘but I’d never leave a lady stranded on the road. Now, you just step back, and I’ll have you up and running in no time.’

  Effortlessly, working with agile motions like a young man, Swen expertly guided the vehicle up to the road. He got out and going around to the aluminum toolbox said, ‘Got a hydraulic jack that will work much better than what you have.’

  ‘I could never have moved the vehicle without help,’ she told him, and added, even though she didn’t feel that her words contained any truth. ‘I’m so lucky you came along.’

  ‘This old road doesn’t get much traffic,’ he responded.

  ‘Where were you headed?’ she asked.

  ‘I was just on my way to Pauley’s Auction Barn. Like to watch my stock sell. Keep up on the prices firsthand.’

  ‘I just came from there myself.’

  ‘You don’t say.’ He cast her an amused glance. ‘I hope you don’t plan on getting into the cattle business. I don’t need the competition.’

  ‘I went there as part of my investigation,’ she replied. As she spoke the words, she became more aware than ever that they were all alone out here, not another person in sight. She thought again of the peroxide-haired cowboy, who could be on Sam Swen’s payroll.

  Swen’s look darkened. ‘I was just talking to Pauley on the cellphone. He said the law had just been out there asking questions about his operation. Appears you upset him.’

  In silence Kate watched as he worked the jack.

  ‘Bolts didn’t break, at least that’s good,’ he said, positioning the spare tyre in place. ‘Now all we need are lug nuts. We’ll just borrow one from each of the other tyres. That’ll get you home, but make sure you remember to replace them as soon as you get back into town. Hand me that tyre iron.’

  Swen moved over to the driver’s side and knelt by the tyre there. When he looked up at her, a frown cut between his eyes, which again had narrowed and darkened. ‘Did you talk to anyone at the auction besides Pauley?’

  ‘Why do you ask that?’

  ‘Because from the looks of this, I’d say you made yourself an enemy.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean the lug nuts on this side are loose, too. This wasn’t any accident. Someone set you up.’

  Swen rose slowly, features tight and hard, tyre iron still in hand. A perfect weapon, she thought, capable of crushing someone’s skull. Kate took an uneasy step backwards. For a moment, she found herself afraid of this powerful man who had stopped, supposedly to help her.

  ‘It’s a lonely road between Downing and Rock Creek,’ Swen said. ‘Not a lot of traffic. I’d say whoever did this might have wanted to catch you stranded out here alone.’

  ‘I haven’t seen anyone but you since I left town.’

  Swen gazed down the road that would lead to Pauley’s Auction. ‘Trouble is, you don’t see people like that. But they see you. Anyway, I must have scared them off.’

  He gathered the chain and the jack and placed it back in his truck before he spoke again. ‘Or maybe whoever did this just wanted to cause an accident, teach you a little lesson.’

  A cold chill crept down Kate’s spine that had nothing to do with the strong wind that buffeted her jacket. Either way, someone had sabotaged her Landcruiser as a warning for her to stay away from Pauley’s, to stop her investigation of the cattle rustling.

  ‘I’d say this was some kind of a friendly warning,’ Swen said. Swen remained ever the gentleman, but she sensed in his manner what could be a thinly veiled threat. ‘Maybe your last one.’

  Chapter 7

  Kate stood gazing from the sheriff’s office out into the street. Bright sunlight glinted against the buildings, making them look old and ti
meworn. A pleasant day, filled with the brilliant colours and the clear, brisk air of autumn; once more she felt a pang of regret that she had turned down the date with Ty yesterday. For a moment she became caught up with images of Ty, riding a tall white Arabian horse, wind sweeping through his hair.

  Wearily she turned from the window. Everything concerning this crime remained a jumble. Her instincts, which she had always relied on so completely, ran counter to the facts.

  She crossed Ben’s office and entered the evidence room. For a long time she sat at the wooden table studying the single earring found in Swen’s truck, one she still believed belonged to either Mary Ellen or Jennie. Although she had been keeping close watch, neither woman had mentioned losing an earring or had worn a matching bracelet or necklace. Regardless, feeling this might be some vital clue, Kate set the earring aside.

  She concentrated on sifting through the contents of the glove compartment of the truck. She studied the registration, the co-op and feed stores invoices, then carefully unfolded the single, remaining item: a tattered map of Belle County.

  Three small x’s spaced far apart had been marked in pen on the map. She frowned in concentration. Two were on Kingsley’s land, one on Swen’s. This alone, seemed to possess some sinister significance.

  In addition three phone numbers had been scribbled on the yellowed margin. The first two were written in blue ink, the last in black. Kate lost no time running a check on the numbers. One belonged to Pratt’s Insurance Company, one to a rancher from Laramie and – bingo – the final one from Casper, was listed under the name of Jennie Irwin.

  Kate stuffed the map into her canvas bag and quickly left the office. She must find out more about the relationship between Swen and Jennie Kingsley and why these three obscure sites had been pinpointed on Swen’s county map.

  Today she still drove her trusty Landcruiser. As she backed out into the street, she spotted Kingsley’s foreman, Hal Barkley, entering the Lazy Z Tavern. This presented the perfect opportunity. Barkley was certain to know all about Swen’s relationship with Kingsley’s wife. If Barkley wasn’t as loyal to the Kingsleys as everyone supposed, he might be willing to tell her all he knew.