Reason for Murder

by Jack Usher

  When she’d done so he took the remaining inches of each piece and tied them tightly over the front compress.

  “That should do it. Turn off the lamp, Mary.”

  “It’s awfully black in here.”

  “There isn’t much good air, either. We’ll need what there is by the time we get ready to go, and I’ll need a couple of hours’ rest.”

  Mary put out the lamp and groped her way back to where he was lying. She stretched out on the dirt floor beside him, then pulled off the coat. Sliding one arm under his neck, she crooked her elbow and allowed his head to rest on her shoulder. With the other hand she covered the upper part of their bodies with the coat.

  “Will we get out of this, Al?”

  “We’ll get out.” He searched for her hand, found it, and carried it to his lips. “He made more than one mistake. He figured if I wasn’t dead, I soon would be. You, too. No food or water, in a solid adobe powder house. Eighteen-inch thick walls and a solid, metal-strapped oak door. He couldn’t miss. Except, he has.”

  “How?”

  “This is Baker number three. It’s been closed about twenty years, but I remember it. Cal and I hunted out here as kids. He was right about one thing, though. No one would ever come up here looking for us. Even if they knew we were missing. He figured that out pretty well, too. As far as anyone in town is concerned, you took the bus to Chicago. They never bother about my comings and goings. Not even Benny, back at the joint.”

  “But, sweetie, if it’s solid adobe, how do we—”

  “That’s the reason we make it. They kept powder and explosives in here. Did a lot of blasting close by. Sometimes the stuff will detonate if it’s too near explosions, so they built this thing solid and thick. Even an adobe roof. That’s where we beat him. Now let’s rest. We’ll both need our strength later.”

  “Could you tell who he was?”

  “No. I couldn’t be sure. Whoever it was is real close to Baker Land. So we’ve got to get out of here quick. Pelchek will need to know about this,” he said. “Now, try and rest.”

  They lay quietly until Reyes fell into a troubled sleep, breathing harshly against her neck. As time went by he began to get feverish, face and forehead hot to her touch. She finally woke him.

  “I think it must be time, Al.”

  He lifted his head from her shoulder and shook it doggedly. “Light the lamp, Mary. There are matches in the coat.”

  In the flickering light he studied the ceiling, then looked at the girl standing with the coat clutched tightly about her. She had lit a cigarette. He reached up and took it from her, inhaling deeply.

  “Help me up.”

  She helped him to his feet and he stood holding on to the two-by-four upright. Waves of dizziness caused beads of perspiration to pop out on his ashen forehead. He finally made his way to the back wall, pulling her with him.

  “See those stringers up there?” He pointed to the narrow lengths of wood stretching across the small room. There were four of them. They were supported by the three uprights, in turn supporting the series of one-by-twelves that ran the length of the building. “They’re holding those wide boards. On top of them is almost a ton of adobe squares. It’s old wood, querida. If I knock out one of the uprights, or maybe two, we’ll have the roof in here with us.” He looked at her. “Get back in the corner, Mary, and you’ll have to give me the coat again.”

  She handed it to him without a word, making no attempt to cover her body. He folded it into a heavy square, placed it on his right shoulder, looked to see if she’d gotten into the corner. Then, taking a deep breath, he launched his two hundred pounds at the center upright.

  He struck the bone-dry piece of wood squarely, and with a loud cracking sound it snapped in two. His momentum carried him to a sprawling halt against the front of the building.

  He looked up at the ceiling, felt blood running down his back.

  The slender stringer began to bend and creak with inexorable and unsupported weight. For a moment it seemed to hold, then it and the flat boards above it gave way to the heavy blocks of adobe. Both Reyes and the girl covered their faces and heads to avoid flying chunks of mortar, splinters of wood.

  “Are you all right, Al?” She picked her way through dustladen air and the pile of rubble in the center of the building, came to stand by him. He handed her the coat and got to his feet slowly, bending forward to ease the tearing pain in chest and back. Looking up, he saw clear, blue sky through the large, jagged gap in the roof.

  “Yeah,” he said, looking at her, “I’m all right.”

  Mary Perrini donned the coat, then found her shoes and put them on. She snatched up his shirt and began clambering to the top of the pile.

  “Where’s the gun?” he asked hoarsely.

  She stopped, looked around. “I guess it’s under that pile of brick. Anyway, he took all the bullets out, Al. Shall I look for it?”

  “Forget it.” He watched her. “Be careful climbing up there. Some of it may still be loose and ready to come down.”

  She tested the edges of the part of the roof still intact, found one side solid, and reached down to Reyes. He very carefully placed his feet in the firmest places he could find, slowly pulled himself up the length of her body until he stood beside her. He was gasping for air, and blood was beginning to appear through the compress on his chest. She bent her right knee and pointed to the juncture between hip and thigh.

  “Put your foot there, Al. I can hold you.”

  He did as directed and slowly pushed himself up and onto the remains of the flat roof. As soon as he was out she climbed after him. Two minutes later they were on the ground.

  “Lie down, sweetie. Your back is bleeding again.”

  “No. If I do, I’ll never get up.” He leaned against the building and looked around, orienting himself.

  “You’ll have to,” she said. “It’s miles back to the road. You couldn’t possibly make it. I’ll have to—”

  “You couldn’t either, querida. Even if you were strong enough to make the hike, you’d burn up in a couple of hours.’

  “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  “I told you he made several mistakes.” His eyes were searching the clearing behind the group of buildings. He caught sight of an opening in the heavy brush. “There it is! This mine is on part of Baker cattle range. If they haven’t torn it down, there’s a winter line cabin about a mile and a half down that ravine, and a path all the way. Cal and I used to bunk there.” He straightened up slightly. “Let’s go, Mary, while I can still navigate.”

  It took them two hours to get to the cabin. The last two hundred yards Reyes fell three times, dragging the girl with him. As they came to the door, he reached down and picked up a large rock, then stumbled through the unlocked entrance.

  Inside the shack, he lurched to a large cupboard, built from floor to ceiling, and with the last of his strength, smashed the padlock and hasp.

  “Mary!”

  She half-led, half-supported him to the bunk bed. His face was ashen, bathed in sweat.

  “Querida,” he rasped, “there’s a dripping spring about fifty feet in back of the cabin. There’s a…”

  His head dropped forward.

  CHAPTER 14

  AT FIVE o’clock in the morning, Pelchek stood by the rented Ford, waiting for Elena and Aguilar. He glanced at the three saddles piled in the open turtleback. The night before, he and the old man had gone over them thoroughly with saddle soap.

  “This little one belonged to my wife,” Aguilar said. “That woman could ride, Steven. Even after my son was born, she liked the bad ones and could handle them.” He shook his head reminiscently. “When Elena was a youngster she could ride, also. Can you still stay on a horse, chiquita?” he asked, looking up at the girl. He and Pelchek were seated on the floor of the living room, Elena busy at the table, packing medical supplies.

  “Certainly.” She smiled at Pelchek. “A person doesn’t forget how to ride. Any more than the
y forget how to walk.”

  “You couldn’t prove it by me,” Pelchek said shortly.

  “There’s no use staying angry, Steven,” the girl said. “I’m going with you, so why argue about it?”

  He’d argued, but without effect. In the early morning stillness she came from the house, carrying a bedroll. In worn Levis, plaid shirt and leather jacket, she walked toward him on scuffed, high-heeled boots. She tossed the bedroll on top of the two already in the back of the car.

  “Grandfather will be out in a minute.”

  “I still don’t like the idea of you going.”

  “Steven, I have to go. He’s over seventy years old, and just running around these last few days has tired him. Besides, your side needs attention every day. In fact, with only three days’ rest, you shouldn’t be making this ride at all.”

  “We can’t wait any longer,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Aguilar came out of the house, locked the door behind him, and joined them. He was carrying a weapon. A rifle. It was a 1906 model, caliber .30, Springfield. Not cut down, and very clean.

  “In case we meet a coyote,” he said, laying it carefully behind the front seat. He called the dog, ordered him to his place on top the saddles and bedrolls. “Stay there, amigo.”

  “Won’t he jump out?” Pelchek asked.

  “Not until I tell him to,” the old man replied. After looking around the small ranch yard, he turned to Pelchek and the girl. “Let us go,” he said. “You drive the car, chiquita, and let Steven rest his side.”

  Two hours later Elena brought the car to a halt by the side of a sturdy horse corral. A middle-aged man walked to the car, opened the door, allowing Pelchek and the old man to get out.

  “They are good horses, Ramon?” the old man asked, after introducing Pelchek and Ramon Calderon. He hobbled over to the corral and peered in.

  “All good,” the man replied. “On such short notice I was lucky to get such good animals.” He took off his hat as Elena came around the back of the car. “Good morning, Elena. The prayers of my wife and I are with you on this ride.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Calderon.” She shook hands with him, as Pelchek whirled on Aguilar.

  “He knows why we’re going into the hills?” he snapped, looking at the old man coldly.

  “Ramon Calderon couldn’t be made to admit he ever heard of us,” Aguilar stated with finality. “Now, Steven, let’s unload the car so it can be hidden.”

  They rode until the sun went down. Then the tireless old man picked a sandy wash for their first night’s camp. For two hours, Pelchek’s side had been one vast ache, and he was tight lipped as he painfully dismounted.

  Elena looked at him. “As soon as we’ve made camp I’ll take care of you, Steven.” She smiled, rubbing the seat of her Levis. “I’m a little sore myself.”

  “He’s old and tired out, huh?” he said, in an aside. “What’s he made out of? Rawhide?”

  “He’s done this all his life,” she said, grinning at him. “You haven’t done much riding, have you?”

  “Hell, no! It’s a damn good thing we walked the horses all the way.”

  “We had to, boy.” The old man had come over to unsaddle Pelchek’s horse. “In this kind of weather we’ll walk them all the way.” He pulled the saddle off, lining it up with his own on the sandy ground, then spread the saddle blanket on a large boulder to dry. “If we weren’t looking for someone we’d travel at night. Make better time that way.”

  Later that night, as they sat around a small fire drinking coffee, they heard one of the horses whinny and the furious barking of Nueve. Pelchek went to his sleeping bag, picked up the rifle. He returned to his seat, held it across his knees.

  Five minutes later a horse and rider appeared, pulling up short of the fire. It was Chris Baker. She slid from her mount and walked to the fire.

  “I’m going with you,” she said.

  No one moved.

  Pelchek finally snapped over the safety on the Springfield, took it back to his sleeping bag, and laid it down. He straightened up, faced her.

  “How did you find us?” he demanded.

  “It wasn’t hard. I had something to give you, so I went out to the ranch. No one was there, not even the dog. So I looked around. The chickens had enough feed for days, and when I looked in the storeroom window I saw the saddles were gone. I noticed that was gone, too.” She pointed to the rifle. “After that, it wasn’t hard to figure out you’d come this way.”

  The old man cleared his throat and offered, “I used to show them the rifle when they were young girls, Steven. It belonged to Elena’s father.”

  “How did you know we came this way?” Pelchek ignored Aguilar, continued questioning the girl.

  “You can get anywhere else around here by car,” the girl replied.

  “Did you tell anyone you were coming?”

  “Of course not! Listen, Steve—”

  “Where did you start from?”

  “All right,” she said resignedly. “I got a horse and trailer from some friends. No questions asked, and they won’t mention it. Then I drove to the Calderon place and asked Ramon if he’d seen you. He said he hadn’t seen any of the Aguilars for months. I figured he had, so I blessed him for lying, hid the car and trailer, and started out from near his ranch.” She shrugged. “Here I am.”

  “I still don’t see how you could have found us in this country,” he continued stubbornly. Chris Baker smiled at Aguilar, and the old man hid a grin behind his hand.

  “I’m afraid I taught her too well, Steven.”

  “I knew where you were an hour ago, Steve. When the sun went down, I rode to the high ground and looked for a fire.” She paused, looking at them all. “You’re here to help Cal and I want to go along.”

  Pelchek looked at her impassively. “It’s not up to me, although I suppose we can trust you. It’s up to her.” He nodded in Elena’s direction. The Mexican girl had sat through the entire conversation, face set, looking away from the fire. “It’s her husband.”

  Chris walked around the fire and faced Elena. “My brother forgave me yesterday, Elena. He told me you’d probably never speak to me again, and I don’t blame you for feeling that way. But please let me go along and help if I can. Please! I know I’ve insulted you in a way that can’t be forgiven, but let me help my brother!” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she pleaded with the stone-faced girl.

  The old man turned away and began rolling a cigarette. Pelchek stared at the two women.

  Elena slowly turned her head and looked at the silently weeping girl, her large eyes reflected in the fire. “All right,” she said quietly. “You can help, Christine.”

  Chris Baker looked at her a moment without speaking, then said simply, “Thank you, Elena.” She walked out of the fire’s glow, stood wiping her eyes.

  Aguilar stood up. He looked over at Pelchek. “Let’s attend to her horse, Steven.”

  After unsaddling Christine’s bay and tossing her bedroll to the ground, they led the animal to where the rest of the horses were hobbled.

  “Women are cruel and soft, eh? Sometimes at the same moment.” Aguilar shrugged. “Who can tell what they will do?”

  “Not me,” Pelchek said dryly. “I tried to figure one out once and got nowhere. Even after five years, what she did doesn’t make sense.”

  “I am told she went off with someone while you were in the war.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And after five years you are still trying to find out why she did not want you? Listen, boy.” The old man put a hand on Pelchek’s arm and looked up at him. “I had two women like that. If those two did not want me, then I did not want them.” He shrugged slightly. “And I did not ask them why or think about it much. Maybe I wouldn’t have liked to hear the reason. Anyway, then I met my wife and it didn’t matter.”

  “Third time’s the charm, huh?”

  “No. The first two times didn’t count. They were just women. To do with as you do with women.�
��

  “And that’s good enough for me.”

  “Then you do not want a son?” Aguilar asked, starting back to the fire.

  Pelchek didn’t answer. He lit a cigarette, walked over and sat on the trunk of a fallen cottonwood. He sat staring into the darkness. Five minutes later Chris Baker joined him.

  “May I have one, Steve?”

  He shook a cigarette from the pack and offered it to her, letting her light it from the glowing stub of his. She inhaled deeply, then leaned against the dead tree.

  “I feel a lot better,” she said.

  “What you did took guts. Cal should have heard it.”

  “How about you?”

  “I want to know what the hell you’re doing out here?”

  “Why, I told you—”

  “I heard what you said back there. I let it go because you were having enough trouble without me adding to it. Now, I want to know why you came out to find us. I told you I’d let you know if I needed your help.”

  “I told you I had something for you,” she said quietly, pulling an envelope from her jacket pocket and handing it to him.

  He glanced at it quickly, barely seeing the print in the moonlight. It was from Elman.

  “After I saw Cal, I went to see Mr. Elman. We had a long talk and when I left he gave me this to give you. Said he didn’t want to trust telling it over the phone.”

  He grunted.

  “Besides,” she continued, “there’s something wrong in town, Steve. I saw Allen this morning and got absolutely nowhere. He didn’t even ask about you. Started harping on my getting mixed up in this thing. So I left. I think he must be a little crazy. He acts as though Cal never existed.”

  Pelchek sat quietly.

  “Then I went to see Chief Mathewson. He was sympathetic, noncommittal and said he’d act on anything positive that was brought to him. After that, Ed Newell’s office. Same treatment, except he seemed embarrassed about the whole thing. What kind of a trial did my brother have? I even looked up three of the jury members. You know what one of them said to me? ‘It’s just one of those things, Miss Baker.’ I damn near slapped his face!”