Revenge at the Rodeo

by Gilbert, Morris

  Dani waited, and finally Faye Hardin’s face seemed to grow softer. “He doesn’t hate him. How could a boy hate his own father?”

  Dani had half expected this, but when the other woman spoke it, it came as something of a shock. As for Faye’s question, she knew that many young people hated their parents for various reasons. “Did Clint leave you when Boone was young?”

  “He left before Boone was born.” The voice was soft as she confessed, “I’m weak—so weak! Maybe I ought to hate him, too, like Boone says he does. But I never did! Never. I loved him always!”

  Dani knew it all then, though not the details. A brief romance that had meant little to Clint Thomas. A child was born, a boy. He found out his father was Clint Thomas, a famous rodeo performer. And he spent his life learning to ride so he could outperform the father who left him.

  Faye Hardin needed little urging, and she laid out the history of her tragic life—and that of Boone—pretty much the way Dani had guessed.

  “Boone wanted to be like his daddy, miss,” the sad-eyed woman explained. “That was all. He didn’t hate him!”

  But Dani knew that young Boone Hardin was in for a hard time. She thought of the watchful eyes of Captain Amos Little, and as she tried to assure the tearful woman that things would be all right, she found she didn’t have confidence in her own words.

  When Luke came back, she told him the development, and he promptly asked, “You going to tell Little?”

  Dani nodded slowly, “No choice, Luke. Let’s go do it now.”

  They left the cemetery, and as the pickup disappeared in a cloud of fine dust, a backhoe started up with a hoarse cough. It moved slowly toward the grave, where two men had taken down the tent and were loading it into a truck. The driver of the backhoe waited until they moved the astroturf covering, then stepped on the gas pedal. The yellow machine raised its shovel, looking something like a steel dinosaur as it bit into the raw red dirt and dropped the bite into the open grave.

  17

  Late Movie

  * * *

  As the two-engine plane touched down, Dani gave a sigh of relief. She knew it was foolish, but she could never let all her weight down in a small plane. It had been a white-knuckled flight for her from Oklahoma City, where the big jet from Philadelphia had set her down.

  Ducking her head as she emerged, she spotted Luke at once and gave a wave. He came to take her hand, and as she stepped down to earth asked, “You make it all right?”

  “Fine.” The earth was good and solid after the bumpy ride, and she savored the concrete that held her firmly. Luke got her suitcase and led her to the Ford. Leaning back in the seat, she sighed and relaxed.

  As he drove from the airport to the motel, he spoke idly of Fort Smith. “This is a good town. I used to come over here and rodeo when I was a kid. This used to be the gateway into the Indian territory of the Cimarron Strip. All kinds of bandits and road agents.”

  “This is where Judge Parker had his court, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. He hanged forty-one men in his day. Used to stand in his office at the window and watch the gallows. But he had to be rough, I guess. He sent his marshals into the territory, and lots of them didn’t come back.”

  He turned off into the Holiday Inn and took her to room 211. “Had to be the second floor.” He shrugged. “Nothing left on the first. Let’s get a burger.”

  Dani changed into her riding clothes, then they went to McDonald’s. After they had eaten and were on their second cups of coffee, he asked, “How was the funeral?”

  Dani nodded, but there was a sober expression on her face. “I’m glad I went. It would have been hard for Mr. Carr, if I hadn’t.” She sipped the black coffee, thinking about the funeral. “It wasn’t in a church. I guess none of the people there had been to church for a long time. And Mrs. Carr had asked a friend of hers to do the funeral. It was pretty grim.”

  “Not as bad as the one Clint got?”

  “Yes, it was. Not so rah-rah and filled with platitudes. I think he was some kind of New Age disciple. He never came right out and said so, but he hinted around that Megan would be back in some other form.”

  “Reincarnation, huh?”

  “Yes.” Dani smiled slightly. “When I got up to give my ‘tribute’ to Megan—which is the way Mr. Carr managed to get me in—I was scared stiff! There I was, the only Christian in the place! But I decided before I arrived that there was no way I could please anyone there, so I just put my head down and flew right at it!”

  “What was the title of your message? ‘Turn or burn?’” Luke grinned.

  “Oh, it wasn’t that bad!” Dani protested. “I just told them what Jesus had done for me, then I told them how Megan had gotten saved a few days before she died.”

  “How’d that go down?”

  “I don’t think they recovered in time to tar and feather me.” The memory of the looks of shock on the faces of the people came to her, and she smiled more broadly. “Well, I came right out and admitted that I believed in God, in the fact that Jesus Christ was the only way to get to heaven, and in the resurrection.”

  Sixkiller studied her, liking the fresh glow on her cheeks. She was wearing a green shirt he’d never seen before, and it picked up the green in her eyes. Her hair was windblown, and there was a fullness and richness in her that he always admired. He wanted to tell her so, but realized it was not the time, so he said instead, “I’d better tell you something before I lose my nerve. I’ve been thinking about Megan. Can’t get her out of my mind.” He drew a line around his coffee cup with a thick finger, his face sober and more thoughtful than Dani had ever seen it. “She got a raw deal—but I keep thinking about how happy she was after she prayed in church that day.” He shifted his shoulders, gave her a sudden direct look, then added slowly, “I always thought religion was something for old ladies—but I can’t think that anymore.”

  Dani knew a flash of joy, for she had longed for this man to find God for a long time. Wisely she didn’t say much, but she put her hand on his thick wrist, feeling the corded strength of the man, and finally she acknowledged, “I’m glad you saw that in Megan, Luke.”

  He expected her to preach to him, but she sat there, her hand on his wrist—and he admired her as never before. “Well, I guess that bloodhound is after me, Dani,” he admitted sheepishly. “Can’t see how a hard number like me can cut it, but something’s going on. Say, wouldn’t ol’ Ben Savage laugh his head off, if I got religion?”

  Dani responded instantly, “No, he wouldn’t. Some might, but not Ben. He’s going through some of this himself.”

  “Savage?” Luke stared at her. “He sure keeps it to himself.”

  “It’s a pretty private matter, Luke. Between you and God, mostly.”

  He stood up, telling her, “I got Big Boy put up. You want to go out to the fairgrounds?” She nodded, knowing that it was time to let the seed lie fallow for a time.

  The Fort Smith rodeo was more of the old school, she soon discovered, than Houston. For one thing, it was not held under a roof, and this reminded her of her younger days of high-school and college rodeo. The air felt cooler in the mountains, with a tang that reddened the cheeks and made everyone feel better. The arena was set up on a high mound, and it was a stiff climb from the cars to the entrance gate.

  “Guess we better get in the grand entry.” Luke nodded. The familiar smells of horses and leather came to Dani as she followed him into the chute area. They passed the trailers bunched together, and Dani caught a glimpse of Hank Lowe’s big Holiday. Cindy and Maury were playing beside it, and she waved to them. They waved back wildly, yelling something that she couldn’t make out.

  When Luke took her to the horse pens, Dani saddled Big Boy and mounted quickly. Everywhere riders were moving, and you could tell which ones would be in the grand entry, because their horses were fancily turned out with the parade saddle and other trappings. Big Boy moved restlessly under her, and she guided him to a place in the line that was forming. R
uth greeted her, and Dani pulled Big Boy in beside her. “Hello, Ruth,” she returned the greeting. “How are you?”

  “All right, I guess,” Ruth answered in a fashion that meant she was not. Her naturally bright eyes were dull, and she had a washed-out expression. “You just get in?”

  Dani had no time to answer, for the parade master was yelling at them, and the line moved forward. The stands were full, and the riders all smiled and waved their hats at the spectators, who applauded enthusiastically. Dani noticed that only with an effort Ruth summoned a smile. As soon as the parade was over, Dani suggested, “Ruth, let’s go out to a really fancy place for supper tonight after the show.”

  The other woman hesitated, then explained, “I told Maury and Cindy I’d take them to the park for a picnic tonight before the show.”

  “That’ll probably be more fun,” Dani agreed at once. “Are you giving them a hand with their schoolwork?”

  “Oh, a little.” Ruth seemed embarrassed by the question, and after the parade she disappeared.

  Dani did fairly well in the barrel race, coming in second behind Ruby Costner. After she put Big Boy up, she went to watch the steer wrestling and was pleased when Luke took a first.

  “I think it was all an accident,” Luke commented, coming to stand beside her and slapping the dust out of his shirt. “I fell off the horse, and the steer happened to take a turn right into where I was headed. I had to get him down, or he would have trampled me.” But he was grinning, and when she complimented him, he allowed, “You know, Dani, this stuff gets in your blood. I’d forgotten how it can get to you.”

  “Maybe you can give up catching crooks and give Bake a run for the number-one slot.”

  “Too old,” he claimed regretfully. “I’m already over the hill Thirty-five is old as the hills in this game. Which reminds me, Boone’s bunking with me again. I can’t get over it—Clint being his father.”

  They walked away from the grandstands, finally deciding to go for a Coke. The refreshment stand was not crowded, and when Luke bought two giant-sized Cokes, they moved to the parking lot under the shade of a large walnut tree.

  “I thought Little might hold Boone on suspicion,” Luke reported. “He’s the best bet so far.”

  “He didn’t do it.”

  “Your womanly intuition tell you that?”

  “No. You don’t think so either.”

  Sixkiller took a long pull on the straw, then shook his head. “I’ve listened to the kid a lot since the killing. He had a love-hate thing for Clint. When he was in the hate mode, he might have done it in a blind rage. But he could never have killed Megan and faked a suicide.”

  “I guess Little knows that. He’s really on the spot, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. When the victim is a celebrity, it’s always that way.”

  They both felt depressed, perhaps because there seemed to be so little chance of ever finding the killer. When the rodeo ended the next day, Dani said, “It’s pretty hopeless, Luke. We might as well go back to the office.”

  “Well, most of the guys are going to Baton Rouge. That’ll be a close place to quit from.”

  But after the final matinee, Tom Leathers came around as Dani was giving Big Boy a grooming. He stood watching her, talking about the rodeo. Then he spoke in a hard tone, “Well, he called again.”

  Dani’s head jerked suddenly at his words. “You mean the Creep?”

  “Yeah. Called thirty minutes ago. I was helping load the bucking stock for Clyde, and Wash came to say there was a call for me at the office.”

  “What did he say, Tom?”

  “Said to go pick up cash from some of the performers.”

  “Which ones?”

  “Bake, Ruby, Clyde, and J. D. Pillow. Said he’d called them, and they’d have the cash when we get to Baton Rouge.”

  “Did he tell you what to do with the money?”

  “Naw. Said to hang on to it till he called again.” He straightened up, gave her a sudden look, and started to speak. Then he apparently changed his mind and walked away.

  Dani put Big Boy in the stall, grained him, then went on a search for Bake Dempsey. She found him grooming his roping horse. “Bake, did you get a call from the Creep?”

  He paused in his motions with the currycomb, giving her a startled look. “I guess you got one, too?”

  “Not this time. Tom told me. Was there anything different about the call?”

  He studied the question, then shook his head. “About the same, I guess.” Suddenly he threw the currycomb against the side of the stall, making his horse rear up. Ignoring him, Bake savagely cried, “I was hoping we’d heard the last of him!”

  “Why would you think that?”

  Bake picked up the currycomb, then gave her a sheepish look. “Oh, I had a nutty idea about him.”

  “You thought maybe it was Clint himself?”

  A startled look came to Bake’s face. “Yeah, I did.” He squinted at her suspiciously. “You have the same idea?”

  “It occurred to me,” Dani admitted. “It could be any of us, Bake.”

  “Aw, not a woman,” he objected quickly. “It’s not a woman who calls.”

  “I could have an accomplice. I could have been in it, with Clint doing the calling.”

  Bake grinned at her sourly. “You out to destroy my faith in women?”

  “It could have been Megan,” Dani mused. “But now we know it’s neither of them. Still it’s got to be somebody in tight with us.”

  “Maybe it’s me,” Bake suggested, giving her a sly look. “I could be the Creep as well as anybody.”

  Dani didn’t smile. “It could be you, Bake. It could be you who killed Clint and Megan.”

  Bake’s face grew angry. “Come on, now! Why would I do that?”

  “You think Captain Little hasn’t gone over it?” Dani shot back. “He’d be saying, Let’s see now, who would benefit from the death of Clint Thomas? Why, that cowboy, Bake Dempsey! He’d be number one! How much will you make now that Clint’s not around to be champion?”

  Dempsey stared at her unbelievingly. “You think I’d kill a man so I could win a contest?”

  “Men have been killed for a lot less, Bake,” Dani pointed out. “But Little has probably thought up a motive for the rest of us. And some of them aren’t too hard to find.”

  “Like Ruby—because he dropped her?”

  “Yes, or Fran. She really hated him for divorcing her.”

  “And Clyde hated him because Fran was still really in love with Clint.”

  Dani gave him a look of surprise. “You’re pretty sharp, Bake. I didn’t think a man would have noticed she was in love with him. But that’s right. And it goes on down the line. Clint took Ruth from Hank Lowe. And now we know he deserted Boone and his mother, so that gives Boone a motive. Clay Dixon hated him for lots of reasons—Clint stole Ruby from him, was a better rider, and smashed Clay’s head with a chair.

  “I’ll give you one you may not know,” Bake confided. “A few years ago Wash Foster was a great rider. Matter of fact, he was neck and neck with Clint for the championship. At the finals, Wash got a killer bronc. He’d never ridden him, but Clint had. When he mounted the horse, Wash asked Clint how much rein to take, and Clint said to take the shortest rein he could, that the horse would keep his head high.” Bake’s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “The horse came out, and first thing he did was put his head right between his front feet. ‘Course Wash wasn’t ready for that, and he got snapped off. Fell right in front of the horse, and like I said, the horse was a killer. He smashed Wash so bad he was out for over a year—and he was never no good after that.”

  Dani nodded slowly. “And he blames Clint for it?”

  “So would I!” Bake bit off the words. “No matter how close we are in the rankings, we always help each other that way. You should see the looks Rocky James gave Clint!” He caught her bewildered look, and shook his head. “You didn’t know about Wash and Rocky? They’re cousins.”
r />   “That’s not much kin to hate a man for.”

  “It is in the hills of Tennessee, I guess. That’s where they come from, and Rocky’s a pretty surly cuss. He’s stomped a few men that I know of. Used his boots on one. Would have killed him, if Wash hadn’t pulled him off.”

  They stood there, suddenly silent, and then Dani questioned, “You going to pay up, Bake?”

  “Nothing else to do, is there?” Unaccustomed gloom scored Bake’s face. “All I’ve got is my ability to ride a horse or a bull. I put that on the line every time I climb aboard. No matter how good a man is, Dani, he’s at a bad disadvantage with an animal that strong. And his hooves are about the same as concrete. If he kicks you in the head, it’ll probably kill you. If he kicks you in the arm or leg, he’ll probably break bones.”

  A grim smile touched the cowboy’s broad lips. “There’s an old myth around that says a horse won’t step on you. I wish it was so, but it just ain’t! A bucking horse is wild and half out of his head with fright. All of us have had hoofprints on us at one time or another.” He broke off, gave her a self-conscious look, then allowed, “Well, it’s a hard life, Dani. And all it would take to put me out of it would be one broken knee. Yes, I’m going to pay up. If that makes me a wimp, then it’ll just have to be that way.”

  Dani shook her head, “I wasn’t judging you, Bake.” She hesitated before putting her hand on his arm. “Megan’s death hit me pretty hard, I guess. Something in me wants to strike out at something, to get even. But there’s no good in that. You only hurt yourself when you let bitterness take over.”

  Bake was caught by her words. He considered them, then shrugged. “I wish I could do that, Dani, but I can’t. No matter how hard I try I can’t just toss things off.” Then he added, “I guess you Christians have to do that, huh?”

  “That’s what the gospel is, Bake. If I did what I wanted to do, I’d probably take revenge. But the Bible teaches that when we become Christians, Jesus Christ comes inside of us. And he loves sinners, so if we let him have his way, we can love them because he’s inside.”