‘The winner tonight – would you believe this – we have a winner by only one vote! A near tie: Jennie Kingsley, 78; Sam Swen, 77.’
Amid the uproar of applause, Swen stepped closer to the microphone. He slanted a look back at the beaming Jennie, and said with a smile, ‘Maybe I had better demand a recount.’
‘Votes were counted twice,’ the master of ceremonies assured him.
‘Could be an error,’ Swen declared.
‘You’re such an old spoilsport,’ Jennie spoke up, also with laughter in her voice. ‘l guess I’ll have to let you share the crown with me.’
‘No, lady.’ Swen took off his hat. ‘I’ll just concede.’
More applause.
‘It’s time Swen faced the truth,’ Ty called out merrily. ‘There’s a new cook in town.’
‘There’s always next year,’ Swen returned, then said to Jennie, ‘If this chili is better than mine, then I want to try some.’
They left the platform together, Ty and Kate trailing after them to Jennie’s booth. Jennie put a modest amount of chili into a bowl and watched Swen as he sampled it.
‘What do you think?’
‘I know when I’ve been beaten,’ Swen said, but the look in his eyes was warm and admiring.
Ty’s hand slipped around Kate’s as they walked back towards her apartment, basking in the after-effects of the outcome that hinted at a kind of truce between the two rival ranches. When they reached the door Ty said, ‘Poor Swen, to lose by so slight a margin.’ He gave Kate an amused, sideways glance. ‘You must have cast the deciding vote. Tell me, which one did you vote for?’
‘For Swen,’ Kate confessed, ‘but I don’t know why.’
Ty smiled. ‘I do. I’m loyal to Swen, and you’re loyal to me.’ Ty drew her into his arms and kissed her. In a soft, gentle voice, he said, ‘Good night, darling. I’ll call you soon.’
Chapter 11
Kate sat by the mirror, brushing dark curls, seeing a new glow in her eyes as she thought of Ty’s kiss and of his arms around her. Even the ringing of the phone, which often annoyed her, sounded happy. Ty had told her he’d call soon, hadn’t he? Smiling, Kate lifted the receiver in anticipation.
The muffled words jolted her. ‘You’ve had your last warning. If you don’t quit poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, you’re going to end up just like Kingsley. Dead.’
A click sounded, followed by a dial tone. Kate stared at the black receiver, repulsed by it, as if it had turned into some deadly snake. The caller had disguised his voice, but she was convinced he was the same man who had set a trap for her this afternoon.
‘… your last warning.’ the exact words Swen had spoken the day he had found her stranded along the road on the way back from Pauley’s Auction Barn.
Kate set to work at once, calling close neighbours to the Rocking C. They all remembered that Mary Ellen had an early tragic love encounter, remembered that she was barely sixteen at the time and was devastated when the boy left town, but no one could recall ever hearing his name. Determined to find him, Kate decided to confront Mary Ellen with the question.
Mary Ellen, looking scared and alone, much as she had when Kate had first seen her, opened the door a crack. ‘If you’re looking for Jennie,’ she said, ‘she’s not here.’
‘It’s you I want to see. May I come in?’
Reluctantly Mary Ellen stepped aside. The study looked different today washed in sunlight streaming in from the wide-open curtains. Despite the brightness, the polished cases filled with Wild West displays, Kate thought only of Charles Kingsley lying dead on the floor near his desk.
Mary Ellen sank down in her uncle’s chair. Kate found her gaze roaming as it always did when she entered this room to the invitation to Tom Horn’s hanging.
‘Why do you want to talk to me?’
Kate didn’t answer her question, instead she asked, ‘Where did Jennie go?’
‘Business, or so she said.’
The bitterness in Mary Ellen’s tone discredited any reference to business. ‘She didn’t mention where she were going?’
‘No, she barely talks to me. I hear rumours that she’s always run around with a lot of men. I don’t think my uncle should have … married her.’ Mary Ellen’s large eyes lifted to Kate’s. ‘You know what I told you about her and Swen?’
‘I heard they dated at one time, but that was back in the past.’
‘They’ve never stopped seeing each other.’
‘You know that for a fact? Maybe they are just long-time friends.’
‘They sneak around,’ Mary Ellen said dully, ‘I’ve seen them.’
Kate turned away from the girl, stepping closer to the framed invitation and looking at it absently as she talked. ‘I understand you had a boyfriend that your uncle didn’t approve of. I need to know his name.’ Kate’s gaze flickered to Mary Ellen, taking note of her pale, stricken face. She couldn’t have looked more stunned if Kate had struck her a hard, physical blow.
‘Why is that important? I’m twenty-eight years old. I haven’t lain eyes on him for over twelve years.’
‘Mary Ellen, I think he may have come back here. He tried to rob your uncle once. He might have attempted the same thing again.’
‘That was so many years ago. He just got drunk one night, a boyish act. Now he’s a man. He wouldn’t still be doing things like that.’
‘If you haven’t seen him for so long,’ Kate asked, “how do you know? He could have turned into an alcoholic and a big time thief as well. Besides that, he would bear a grudge against your uncle, which might explain the stone placed under his head.’
Mary Ellen, too upset for more denials, made no reply.
‘Tell me his name. I’ll check him out and if I find he was somewhere else when the crime was committed, that will be the end of it.’
Kate had expected Mary Ellen to refuse to cooperate, but after a long, heavy silence, she said, ‘His name is David Glenwood Colbert. After David left here, he went to Denver. I never saw him again. He didn’t even write or try to call me.’
The moment Kate returned to her apartment, she phoned the sheriff’s office. Luckily Lem answered. ‘I need for you to run a check on a David Glenwood Colbert. His middle name was probably his mother’s maiden name so it should be no problem sorting him out from other Colberts. This is very important, Lem, can you do it right away?’
‘I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.’
Glad that she merited Lem’s continual support, Kate waited impatiently by the phone. When it finally rang again, she grabbed the receiver anxiously.
‘Kate, nothing’s turned up on any man by that name. No criminal record.’
‘I knew Kingsley hadn’t brought charges against him, but I thought he was the type to have eventually built up a rap sheet. Were you able to trace him through his social security number?’
‘No one’s listed by that name. He either died before he got a social security number, or he’s got himself an alias.’
Or Mary Ellen had simply made up a name because she didn’t want to reveal his real one. Another dead end, unless Kate had been on the right track and she had seen Mary Ellen’s boyfriend face to face at last night’s cook-off. ‘Have you found out anything else about Slim Barton?’
‘His real name’s Dean Barton, but everyone knows him as Slim. He owns his own ranch, the Bar 8, just south of here near the Colorado border.’
‘Swen says he’s buying up land. How big is his operation?’
‘Very small. He doesn’t have enough acreage to run too many head of cattle.’
‘Do you know the brand he uses?’
‘Sure. A simple bar and an eight.’
‘Thanks, Lem.’
After she hung up the phone, Kate sketched Kingsley’s brand on a notepad, then drew an eight with a bar beneath it. By adding a couple of loops, the Rocking C without any problem at all could be transformed into an eight. In the same way Swen’s Double S could be changed into Barton�
��s brand. Perhaps Barton had for many years been stealing from both ranches. He had probably set up his operation with the Bar 8 name for exactly this purpose.
No wonder she hadn’t been able to trace the sales. Slim Barton had stolen from both ranches with impunity, certain one would blame the other. He had altered both brands to the Bar 8 before they were consigned. Since Slim Barton was a rancher himself, no one would even be suspicious.
Kate began calling all of the area’s livestock auctions telling them she was interested in purchasing Bar 8 cattle from Slim Barton. She went through the entire list, the results being the same: he had dealt with none of them.
She extended her search into Colorado. Sheffield’s Cattle Trade was located close to Barton’s ranch, just over the state line. The clerk connected her to the boss.
‘I’m Kate Jepp from the Belle County sheriff’s department and I need some information. Have you sold cattle for Charles Kingsley or for Sam Swen?’
She remained on hold for a long time.
‘We have made no sales for either of them.’
‘What about Slim Barton?’
‘Yes, he sells here occasionally.’
‘Does he have a consignment for your next auction?’
‘Not unless he’s just brought them in. The auction is tomorrow.’
‘Would you be able to fax me some records concerning his total sales for the past two years?’ Kate gave him her fax number, replaced the phone and waited. When the fax came through, she scanned the figures. Just as he had said, the Bar 8 sales were infrequent and limited as would be expected for an operation of his size.
Then what had Slim Barton done with the load of Herefords stolen from the Rocking C Sunday night? Either he had taken them to his ranch … or to Pauley’s, the only livestock auction in the area that she hadn’t just called.
Dread filled her at the prospect of confronting Pauley again. During their last ugly encounter, she had suspected him of working with the rustlers for a cut of the profit. Yet she could be wrong. He might simply resist the idea of disclosing information concerning his two major consigners, Kingsley and Swen, but he might be willing to talk about Barton.
The long stretch of isolated road to Downing gave her time to think. Kate reached the rough gully where the Landcruiser had lost a wheel. She thought of the way Sam Swen had suddenly appeared along the isolated road and had stopped supposedly to help her. The same doubt and fear rose in her now as then. The loosened lug nuts, Swen’s timely arrival, could have been planned in advance, the same way the Chevy wreck had been set up. She might have handed over the incriminating evidence to Swen himself, concealed behind cowboy hat and ski mask.
Jeff had maintained Swen’s guilt from the beginning: Swen the brains behind the den of rustlers, the man who had ordered Kingsley’s death if he hadn’t pulled the trigger himself. Yet only one fact was certain to Kate: more than one person could be playing a major role in this highly successful swindle. Nor could she just assume Slim Barton was the head man, when it was just as likely he was taking orders from someone higher up.
Relieved to have the deserted miles behind her, Kate pulled into the near-empty lot beside Pauley’s Auction Barn. A heavy-set man in overalls stood near the cattle pens. ‘Do you work here?’
‘Sure do,’ he said, spitting out tobacco.
‘Has Slim Barton consigned any cattle for tomorrow’s auction?’
‘Usually does. Fact is, he told me yesterday he planned to sell at least a dozen head of prime Herefords. Just hasn’t brought them in yet.’
‘Do you accept them so late?’
‘Sure do. Something must have happened, though. Slim always gets his lot in early. If you’re interested, Pauley could make a call for you and check on his consignment.’
Inside, met with silence and empty bleachers, Kate’s wariness increased. She started down the dim, circular corridor leading to Pauley’s office, there she paused and drew a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for another unpleasant encounter with the rude owner.
A cheery voice called out, ‘Hi.’ A woman’s face, topped with coppery hair piled high and clipped with rhinestone barrettes, appeared above the partition. She looked to be around forty, about the same age as Pauley.
‘You must be Pauley’s wife,’ Kate said in a friendly manner.
‘Yes, I’m Ruth. Hank’s around here somewhere. I can find him if you like.’
‘Maybe you can help me.’ Kate took out the ID she had failed to turn in with her badge and gun. The woman glanced at the photo, then at her, smiling pleasantly. What a break. Hank Pauley hadn’t mentioned Kate’s last visit to his wife.
‘I spoke to Mr Pauley earlier about obtaining some sales records – just a routine check for an investigation I’m doing.’
‘What records do you need? I can pull them up for you on the computer in a jiffy.’
The moment Kate told her, with quick movements of fingers, nails painted to match her hair, she called up Sam Swen’s account. His steady sales showed no inconsistencies. Kingsley’s as well revealed nothing out of the ordinary.
‘How about Slim Barton’s Bar 8?’
Kate couldn’t quite believe the huge amount of business Barton had been doing with Pauley’s Auction over the past few months. ‘What I’ll need are the figures for the year.’
Ruth pressed a few keys, generating a spreadsheet. Kate skimmed the great number of sales, realizing that he’d sold more beef than Swen and Kingsley combined, much more than his small ranch could possibly support.
‘I can make you a print-out of this,’ Ruth offered.
‘If it’s not too much trouble. Could you include the Rocking C and the Double S as well?’
The printer clicked and whirred. They waited as it spilled out pages. ‘There you go, Miss Jepp.’
As Ruth handed over the run-off copy, footsteps sounded in the hallway just outside the office. Kate stuffed the papers in her purse and swung around, face to face with Hank Pauley.
He stopped short. ‘So you’re back again?’ he growled. ‘Didn’t I make it clear enough last time?’
Ruth looked from one to the other of them, bewildered by her husband’s hostile reaction. Pauley’s gaze slid from his wife to the computer screen still displaying Swen’s records.
Kate tensed.
‘Going behind my back! I ought to throw you out of here!’
‘Hank, what’s wrong?’ Ruth asked. ‘This girl is from the sheriff’s office.’
‘Ben didn’t send her, you can count on that. Meddling, that’s what she’s doing.’ He glared at Kate. ‘You and I need to talk.’
He ushered Kate ahead of him through the door. His tight grip caused ripples of pain to shoot through her recently injured arm. He didn’t let go of her until they had reached the centre corridor.
Last time he had been angry, now he was livid. The way his eyes glittered made Kate half-afraid of him.
‘Hand over those papers she gave you.’
Kate made no move to comply.
Pauley took a step closer to her as if he planned to yank away her purse and take them by force.
‘Hank!’ Ruth’s call stopped him. She reached them in seconds. Fingers with their coppery nails clamped over his wrist. ‘Hank, what’s wrong with you?’
To Kate’s surprise, Ruth’s words calmed him. He dropped his hands to his sides and said almost docilely, ‘I have instructions. Swen told me straight out, he doesn’t want any of his records released without a court order.’
‘I’m not working for the Kingsleys,’ Kate told him. ‘The information your wife gave me will be confidential.’
‘I’ve always supported Swen.’ Pauley looked away, speaking as if he hadn’t even heard her. When his eyes settled again on Kate, he tried to change the implication of his words. ‘Kingsley was flat out crazy making all those accusations against him.’
‘If Swen’s innocent, he has nothing to fear from me.’
‘You’d better leave now,’ Ruth cut in
. She tugged on Pauley’s arm, saying soothingly, ‘Don’t worry, Hank. I’ll call Swen. I’ll explain.’
The glitter in Pauley’s eyes returned. His words, almost a yell, rang out harsh and accusatory, ‘You don’t know what you’ve done, do you? You’ve just ruined everything!’
With Pauley’s last statement replaying in her mind, Kate pulled on to the highway. Kate had ruined everything: what on earth could Pauley mean by that? Was he referring to her being on the trail of Barton and her making the connection between the Bar 8 and Sam Swen?
The only way she could prove Barton was involved was to find the stolen cattle which, according to her calculations, must still be at the Bar 8 Ranch. But it would take nerve to go out there alone, knowing as she did, that right now Pauley would be on the phone to Swen.
Still, she had a time advantage. With Swen and his crew in Rock Creek, she would be able to reach the Bar 8 at least an hour before them. Pauley might, however, alert Slim Barton, but she wouldn’t consider that now. She would think only about grasping what was beginning to look like her last opportunity.
Slim Barton’s ranch, amid a rocky hillside, couldn’t be compared to the vast, rich spreads of either Swen or Kingsley. It consisted of a run-down wood-frame house, an ancient barn with a sagging roof and a few dilapidated outbuildings. To Kate’s disappointment no cattle milled inside the corral or grazed in the grassland beyond it. As if unable to believe it, she drove around the Bar 8 pastureland again. He must have wised up, had already rebranded the stolen cattle and moved them out.
She had driven out here for nothing. Still, it couldn’t hurt to take a look around. A distance away from the house, she edged her Landcruiser into a thick grove of pine trees. She had to cross an open field on foot.
No one appeared to be anywhere around. Kate moved quickly but cautiously, like a soldier crossing into enemy territory. She slipped into the barn where she drew her first deep breath since she had trespassed on Barton’s land.
Overhead, light streamed through gaps in the sagging roof, casting hazy streaks into the dimness. A strong odour of damp hay hung around her, mingling with scents of fuel and grease.
Stone of Vengeance Page 15