Kate’s resentment of Jeff grew as the afternoon wore on. Even though she knew better in her heart, she kept telling herself that Jeff’s tattling to the sheriff about her and Ty had tipped the scales and cost her the appointment. How could he have run to Ben, twisting what he knew was her chance meeting with Ty into some romantic rendezvous?
‘Hi, Prep.’ Jeff, a big smile on his face, strolled from the hallway toward her bed, placing a vase of pink roses on the stand beside her. The expensive green vase bore a golden tag reading, ‘Betty’s Floral.’
‘So like you,’ she said cuttingly, ‘bringing flowers to someone you’ve just stabbed in the back.’
‘You gave us all quite a scare,’ he commented, ignoring her sarcasm. His worry, if that wasn’t just some act, quickly dissipated into criticism. ‘You know you shouldn’t have been out there in the first place.’
‘I don’t need your lectures,’ Kate returned coldly. ‘What about my vehicle?’
‘Someone, your boyfriend probably, cut it all up, mutilated the wires and hoses, but it’s all taken care of now. Don’t worry your pretty little curls about a thing.’
That infuriating lop-sided grin appeared again.
‘That’s the second vehicle you’ve ruined,’ Jeff teased. ‘I’m beginning to think you’re working for Barney’s Repair Shop instead of for us.’
As Kate smouldered, Jeff stepped to the windowsill, lifted the vase of wild flowers, and set it down again. ‘Someone must be saving money,’ he said. ‘I should have thought of that myself. Plenty of them out in my cow pasture.’
He had the nerve, putting down Ty Garrison. Ty understood her in a way no one else did; he had brought her a gift she appreciated, one that spoke to her heart.
Jeff, despite her lack of pleasant responses, remained a long time making cheerful small talk. ‘Better get back to work,’ he said at last. He stopped at the door for one more smile, his close-cropped hair and skin looking dark against the surrounding white. ‘Hurry and get out of here, Kate. We all miss you at the office.’
Kate had thought she wanted to be alone, but after Jeff left, her misery only increased: Ben and Jeff were right; she was wrong. She had failed them and deserved exactly what she got.
To add to her gloom, unanswered questions kept swirling around her, questions like why Ty and Swen were trespassing on Kingsley land, both fully armed. If Swen had been the one who had shot her, then Ty had taken a big chance going against his boss and bringing her to the hospital. Ty Garrison was either a hero working to help clear his employer’s name, or a rustler who had risked his own cover in order to save her life.
When Kate entered the sheriff’s office, Lem looked up from his desk. Because he usually failed to acknowledge Kate’s entrance into the office, the grin that lit up his thin, lined face surprised her.
‘I heard all about how you chased after those rustlers,’ he said in an admiring way, ‘how you took a bullet. You’re all right, though, aren’t you Kate?’
For the first time she seemed to merit the older deputy’s approval. She returned his smile. ‘I’m fine.’ Her hand went automatically to the long sleeve that hid the bulky bandage. ‘Arm’s a little sore, that’s all.’
‘I think you’re one gutsy gal, that’s what I think!’
Kate basked for a moment in the praise which, coming from Lem, was comparable to being pinned with a medal, then she asked, ‘What’s going on with the case?’
‘We picked up Ty Garrison for questioning, but there’s not enough evidence to hold either Swen or him. He made up a story about trying to hunt down the rustlers, said that’s what they were doing that night. He told some wild tale about seeing a yellow-haired man in the canyon area.’
Slim Barton leapt to mind, the man Kate suspected of sabotaging the wheel of her car at Pauley’s Auction. ‘Could Ty make a positive identification?’
‘No,’ Lem said, ‘he just got a glimpse of light hair.’
Lem rose, ambled over to the coffee maker, and filled a paper cup. ‘Another curious thing, Jeff ran across that same man on the road the night you were shot. He stopped him near the canyon. He confiscated the .22 Winchester rifle Barton kept on a rack behind the seat of his truck.’
Lem went on with his accustomed slowness, ‘We now have Barton’s Winchester as well as Swen’s old clip-style Marlin, and the pistol Garrison was carrying. If we could find a bullet or a shell casing to run through ballistics, we’d know which man shot at you.’
Finding such small objects in that vast, heavily wooded terrain sounded impossible, still, Kate decided that the first chance she got, she would hunt for evidence herself. After all, she would have the best chance of locating the places where the shots had been fired. Noticing that Lem was waiting for some response from her, she said, ‘But so far we have nothing?’
‘Nothing of importance.’
‘Jeff and I went back out to the canyon this morning. All we could tell is that it looks as if they had taken that cattle pen down a time or two, as if they were in the habit of changing locations.’
‘What about tyre tracks?’
‘They must have done a speedy cover-up. The dirt around the corral had been swept clean. I think the shooter made it a point to retrieve the bullets and cartridge cases. He certainly wouldn’t want to run the risk of leaving something behind that would point right to him.’
‘So,’ Kate began, ‘the evidence is.…’
‘Non-existent.’ Jeff finished her sentence. He paused significantly, somewhat arrogantly, before he strode into the room.
‘Or not found by us yet.’
Kate hadn’t intended her statement to irritate him, but he gave a snappish reply. ‘You’re not the only competent one here. There’s absolutely nothing out there. Regardless, it’s no secret who shot you. Either Sam Swen, himself, or his accomplice, Garrison.’
‘I’d like to take a look for myself.’
‘We’ve had enough of your one-man,’ he stopped, backtracked, and started again in the same surly way, ‘we’ve had enough of your one-woman show. From now on, I handle things.’
Lem’s slow drawl did nothing to soothe the mounting tension. ‘You could just hear her out, Jeff. She’s done a heap of a lot of work on this case.’
‘Let’s see, just what has she done?’ Jeff ticked Kate’s mistakes off on his fingers, ‘Wrecked the squad car, dated the prime suspect, got herself shot.…’
Lem spoke up in her behalf again. ‘Let’s be fair, Jeff.’
‘No, let’s be truthful. We almost lost Kate because she can’t follow simple orders. And because she can’t, Ben handed her job over to me.’
How would she ever be able to put up with his insufferable attitude? ‘Ben may have put you in charge, but he didn’t take me off the case.’
Almost no one ever opposed Jeff, but now she had added her challenge to Lem’s and that, she realized, had been a big mistake.
Jeff spoke acidly, ‘Ben didn’t take you off the case, but I am.’ He turned his back on her and headed to his desk.
Lem set down his coffee cup, spilling liquid as he did. ‘Stop it, Jeff, we’ve got enough trouble. We don’t need you two bickering.’
Jeff addressed Lem as if Kate had left the room. ‘She needs to learn to be a team player, or she’s no good to us,’ he said with great bitterness. ‘Besides, what’s she thinking, trying to go back to work already?’ He directed his next words to her. ‘Just go home.’
No reply she made would change his mind. Kate swung away from them and headed to the door. Jeff’s words thundered after her.
‘I’m putting you on leave for the next three days. And if I find you meddling in any way, you’ll answer to me.’
Kate firmly closed the door between them, but that did not block out his words.
‘You’re off this case, and that’s final. Consider yourself warned.’
Smouldering with resentment, Kate left the building and almost collided with Sam Swen.
‘Whoa.’ He drew to
a quick stop, touching the brim of his hat, greeting her in an appealing, old-fashioned way. ‘You must be hot on another lead.’
‘I’m not, but are you?’
The two regarded each other, Kate picturing how he had looked that evening in the canyon, rifle in hand. She felt afraid of him, just as anyone who was foolish enough to get in his way.
‘I’m just reporting into the sheriff’s office like I was told to do. Jeff just won’t give up, even though I’ve already told him everything I know.’
‘You must have left your ranch Sunday evening the same time I did.’
‘Yes. I went directly out to that spot on Kingsley’s land marked with an x, the one you showed me. By the way, thanks for sharing that information. I’m sure no one expected me ever to lay eyes on that map.’
Another mistake of hers Jeff could add to his tally, Kate thought, but made no comment.
Swen went on, ‘I kept asking myself: why would anyone mark my map and leave it in my truck? There seems to be only one answer.’ His grey eyes narrowed. ‘You may have been right when you suggested one of my own men might be involved. I may have hired a hand that works for Kingsley, albeit not a very clever one.’
Swen straightened his shoulders in a way that caused her to picture him aiming a rifle and pulling the trigger. ‘He’ll need heaven’s help if I ever find him.’
‘You can’t.…’
‘Can’t what? Retaliate? Your question reminds me of a line from Macbeth, “Let us be beaten if we cannot fight”.’
‘Look what happened to Macbeth.’
‘That was because of his wife,’ Swen said, lightening a little, ‘and I’m lucky enough not to have one.’
‘You must have thought you would encounter someone on Kingsley’s property that night. Which explains why you took a gun with you.’
‘A man who goes to war takes a weapon.’
‘It’s not up to you to do battle. That’s our job.’
‘There’s many ways to fight,’ he replied. ‘I’m working on something now that will work … eventually.’
‘What?’
‘You’ll be the first to know … when it happens. In the meantime, I’d suggest you do some checking on Slim Barton, who is probably working with Kingsley’s foreman. Barton’s been buying up land along the Colorado border.’
Kate waited for him to go on.
‘Lots of it,’ Swen said, then added adamantly, ‘You tell me, how a two-bit operator like Slim Barton, fresh out of the state prison without a penny is able to pay cash in hand for vast stretches of good pasture.’ Swen paused, then added, ‘I’d better go on in. You’re not working yet, I suppose.’
‘No.’
Swen started toward the building.
‘Swen, you can’t take the law into your own hands.’
‘I won’t need to,’ Swen replied. ‘Like Tom Horn, these rustlers will soon be weaving a rope for their own hanging.’
Feeling upset over the implications of Swen’s conversation and over Jeff’s decision to remove her from the case, Kate crossed the street to Tumbleweed Café and ordered a cup of coffee. She clamped her ice-cold hands around the warm mug and wondered what on earth she was going to do now.
How could she just give up this case, her case?
She had been thrilled when Ben had singled her out for leadership’ as fit to be his replacement. That moment of success had crumbled around her and left her helpless to pick up the pieces. She couldn’t appeal to Ben for he would only agree with Jeff. If she didn’t comply with Jeff’s instructions, it would mean she would be dismissed as a deputy in the Belle County sheriff’s department.
Kate stared morosely from the window-watching, yet removed from the quiet early-morning lull. A woman hurried past the restaurant. Jennie Kingsley, Kate thought, noting the stylish Western hat, the short denim skirt and embroidered blouse and vest. No, this lady was too tall, too thin, and too young to be Kingsley’s new bride.
The woman turned her head slightly, and with a jolt Kate recognized Mary Ellen. She must be taking fashion lessons from her new aunt. She had tinted her hair, for the light strands that escaped from her hat brim waved Jennie-style around her face. Hooped earrings, inlaid with turquoise, bobbed with every step. Kate stared at her, amazed. What a change from the shy, frightened person she had questioned at the ranch. Only the high-heeled boots, which made her gait coltishly awkward, were reminiscent of the old Mary Ellen Kingsley.
Where could she be going dressed up to the nines, as if for some important date? Curious, Kate paid for her coffee and left the café. She reached the street just in time to see Mary Ellen entering the Belle County museum.
Mary Ellen and Jake Pierson stood in the dim recesses near the displays talking in hushed voices. Kate caught Mary Ellen’s words as she entered. ‘I just don’t like what’s happening. I think I should have left right away.’
The curator reached out for her hand and squeezed it tightly. At that moment Mary Ellen looked toward Kate, her eyes, void today of glasses, becoming wide and startled.
‘Hi, Mary Ellen, Mr Pierson.’
The curator dropped his hand quickly to his side. Mary Ellen forced a smile. Of course she had heard about what had happened to Kate, but she didn’t mention it.
Today, plain Mary Ellen gave the illusion of beauty. At any rate, she had managed to elicit the special attention of the attractive curator, Jake Pierson. Kate looked from one to the other, realization sinking in. The clothing and new hairdo were obviously for his benefit. She had assumed Mary Ellen and her boss were just good friends, but the special smile she had seen pass between them made her see for the first time evidence of budding romance.
‘What are you doing here?’ Mary Ellen asked, seeming embarrassed.
Kate looked from one to the other. ‘I just saw you walking by the café, Mary Ellen, and thought it would save me a trip. I wanted to ask you about Sunday, the night I was shot.’
‘Ask me?’ Mary Ellen glanced fearfully toward Pierson, as if incapable of responding on her own.
‘She wouldn’t know anything about the whereabouts of anyone,’ he answered protectively. ‘Mary Ellen attended the annual banquet for the Historical Society that night, which didn’t break up until around eleven o’clock.’
‘I guess that’s all I needed to know then. Unless you happened to have run into Hal Barkley or anyone who works for Kingsley’s that night and can give them an alibi as well.’
Mary Ellen glanced at Jake Pierson again, as if for courage, before she answered, ‘No, I didn’t see any of them. Jake, I had better be going now. I only stopped by for a minute. I have to get back to the ranch.’
‘Don’t want to leave Jennie alone, do you?’ the curator remarked.
‘I’ve been making plans to move out,’ Mary Ellen explained to Kate. ‘Get a place of my own. But I just can’t bring myself to do it right now.’ Mary Ellen spoke sadly, as if she were making some huge sacrifice. ‘When I told Jennie of my plans she got so upset. She begged me not to go. She said she just couldn’t bear being alone right now.’
‘How long do you intend to stay at the ranch?’ Kate asked.
‘Until Jennie feels comfortable about my leaving.’
Although Mary Ellen didn’t glance toward Jake Pierson, she nevertheless addressed him as she walked to the door. ‘Don’t forget, Jennie told Hal she’s changed her mind about selling off some of Uncle Charles’ Western collection. I made a special trip in today so you would know. You should get your bid in first.’
Mary Ellen’s words surprised Kate. Jennie, from what she knew about her, would never consider parting with a single item of the Kingsley collection.
‘Quite a girl, that Mary Ellen,’ Jake Pierson said, still gazing toward the door she had just closed. ‘Here she is, willing to help Jennie when she wants so badly to get away from there.’
To Kate, Pierson’s words had a ring of falseness. Selflessness and Mary Ellen didn’t seem to pair off. In fact, Kate’s first impression
of Kingsley’s niece was that she seemed far too self-centered to notice much that didn’t directly concern her. Probably, her delay had more to do with some plan of her own that had temporarily gone awry.
‘It sure was good of Mary Ellen to drop by today,’ the curator said excitedly. ‘She’s always thinking of other people. She knows just how much I want that collection for our museum.’
Kate’s gaze moved automatically to the portrait of Tom Horn. In the stillness his painted eyes seemed to be trying to communicate some unspoken message.
Chapter 9
Kate was doing the same thing again – going off on her own, disobeying direct orders. When Jeff got wind of it, disaster was bound to follow. Even knowing this, unable to stop herself she continued driving towards Kingsley’s ranch.
According to Swen, Slim Barton was buying up land; according to Ty, a yellow-haired man had been working with the cattle thieves. If Swen and Ty weren’t guilty, if what they claimed was true, then Slim Barton had been the man who had shot her. But from what Kate knew about Barton, he lacked the brains and initiative to mastermind such a large-scale operation. He had to be working with someone else, someone who knew the ins and outs of both ranches. Kate’s thoughts turned to Kingsley’s foreman, Hal Barkley.
Luck smiled on her. Near the barn sat a pick-up truck with open bonnet. As she approached, Kate stopped to admire it: eggshell blue with a tasteful silver Rocking C emblazoned on the side.
As she came around to the front, she saw first a jean-clad figure and a shock of blond hair. Because she had been thinking of Slim Barton, she drew in her breath sharply. But it wasn’t Slim who appeared all happy and smiling from under the bonnet.
‘Didn’t expect to see me working as a mechanic, did you?’ Jennie said, laughing. She laid aside a wrench and wiped greasy fingers on her jacket.
The sharp fresh air, the love of her work, added roses to her pale skin and a sparkle to her eyes. ‘There’s nothing this old gal can’t do. I was born roping and riding and.…’ she glanced down dubiously at the motor, ‘repairing trucks. Charles called this one mine. Said the colour was much too sissified for him.’
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