Desert Moon

by Susan Page Davis

  But now Mama was gone. Oliver’s telegram had shocked Julia out of her complacency. The news of her mother’s sudden death made her realize that life was too short to live in loneliness. If Adam Scott insisted on strutting around town wearing a tin star, too bad. She could ignore him. She’d always hoped for a family of her own—with Adam—but now she was reconciled to living quietly with her brother. Adam wouldn’t keep that small happiness from her any longer.

  The bridle in place, she gathered the reins and put her foot in the stirrup.

  “Hold on,” Adam called. “You can’t tear off alone. It’s dark.”

  She smiled bitterly. “You just noticed that?”

  “Well, no, I…wait, Julia. Let me douse the fire. I’ll ride down to the road with you.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m sure you can. I’m coming anyway.”

  Of all the arrogance! Julia considered turning her horse and riding off without him instead of waiting while he tended the fire and carried his saddle over to his horse. In his head, he was probably screaming at her for causing him all this trouble. If he’d wanted to go back to town, he’d have gone with the posse. Now he felt he had to do it because of her.

  For Adam, it was a matter of duty. She could see that. So was being a lawman. When an injustice was done, he couldn’t sit by and see the criminal get away—like now. The killer must be caught, even if it was his friend. Well, she wasn’t going to watch him chase her brother down and ruin his reputation.

  “This really isn’t necessary,” she said as he lugged the heavy stock saddle toward his bay. “I’m capable of riding home by myself.”

  “No, you’re not, and you can’t stay out here.”

  “I should think not. But I’m anxious to get back now and see if Oliver’s returned. He may have some logical explanation for why he was gone all day.”

  They rode in silence for the first hour. Adam went slowly, letting Socks pick his way in the moonlight. Julia followed, hoping the dun would prove sure-footed on the steep downhill places. At last they reached the road, and she relaxed. Adam waited for her to ride up beside him.

  “Where do you think Oliver is now?” he asked.

  “Home in bed, I hope. Where do you think he is?”

  Adam sighed. “I don’t want to believe it, but I’m afraid he’s run for it.”

  Julia pulled back on the reins, and her horse stopped abruptly. “You make me so mad, Adam Scott! Why aren’t you looking at other people who knew about the payroll shipment?”

  Adam’s low laugh added to her rage.

  “The payroll comes every month on the same stage,” he said. “The whole town knew about it. You want me to question the whole town?”

  “If need be.”

  “Look, I’m using a process of elimination. Who wasn’t around when the stage was robbed? Who stayed away for the rest of the day?”

  She glared at him. “You heard that Oliver was away, and you fastened on him like a leech. There could be a dozen other men missing from Ardell and you wouldn’t know it. Why? Because you’re convinced it was Oliver. But you know Oliver! You, better than anyone else, should trust him. He wouldn’t do this, and you know it.”

  “Do I?”

  Julia kicked the horse, hoping to leave the infuriating man in her dust. The dun, however, refused to go faster than a slow jog. She rode along feeling Adam’s presence behind her, too angry to speak to him again or even look at him.

  Finally they reached the Newman home. She hadn’t expected Adam to escort her all the way into town and to her door, but she was too angry to renew her pleas for him to leave her. She rode straight to the small barn behind the house and dismounted. Adam was right there at her elbow when she opened the door.

  She didn’t need a lantern to tell her the barn was empty. Nothing had been disturbed since the last time she’d checked. She sagged against the half wall of the stall where Oliver’s horse should be. After a moment she felt Adam’s hand, warm and comforting, on her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Julie.”

  She stiffened. He had no right to call her that now. And his touch…How could it make her feel all yearny inside when she was so angry with him?

  “You’d better go. If anyone sees you leaving here after midnight, tongues will wag.”

  He chuckled, and she didn’t like the sound of it. “That’s right. Your brother’s disappearance is enough of a scandal. If you want to live in Ardell, you mustn’t risk adding another.”

  She whirled on him, her fists clenching. “How dare you?”

  Adam held up both hands in surrender. “All right. I’m going. I’ve lost half a day in my search for the robber by coming back here to spend the night.”

  “And that’s my fault.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  She shook her head. “You didn’t have to. I’m sorry, Mr. Sheriff, that I wasted your precious time. I did tell you I could see myself home.”

  “Julia, listen to me.” Adam put a hand up to his eyes for a moment. “Look, I did find some evidence, all right? It’s not just that he’s gone.”

  Her chest tightened and her throat went dry. “What is it? What are you talking about?”

  “I think it’s best if I keep it to myself for now, but I found something that made me think of Oliver. I need to prove, one way or another, whether he was involved in the robbery. Can you understand that?”

  “No. No, I don’t think I can. Unless you tell me what it is you’ve found that’s so compelling—”

  “Good night, Julia. I’ll drop your horse off at the livery.”

  He walked out, and she slumped against the divider again. She was too tired to sustain her fury. She waited a full minute before moving, thinking about her brother. What if Oliver had encountered the outlaw? Or what if he’d met with an accident? He might be lying dead in some ravine while she dithered about trying to clear his name.

  When she went outside and closed the barn door, Adam and both horses were gone.

  She dragged herself across the yard and in through the back door of the house. The kitchen fire had gone out. She decided not to bother to build it up, but went on up the stairs. Without hope, she glanced into Oliver’s empty room then went to her own and undressed.

  She fell into bed barely able to formulate a mental prayer for wisdom and strength. Adam’s deep voice echoed in her mind. “I’m sorry, Julie.” The words had made her heart leap. She’d wanted to turn and fling herself into his arms. There was a time when she could draw warmth and strength from him. But not now.

  She’d just begun to drift into the haze of unconsciousness when a loud hammering on the door downstairs brought her upright in bed, gasping.

  Chapter 6

  Adam took Julia’s horse to the livery stable. All was quiet there, so he unsaddled her mount and turned it into the corral. He took the tack into the barn and left it.

  Usually the fun was in full swing at the saloons around midnight, but tonight the street was quiet. Maybe the murder had subdued folks and kept them home this evening. Adam was glad—he wouldn’t feel too guilty if, instead of making the rounds, he went to his cot in the jail and slept for a few hours.

  As he rode past the intersection, he glanced toward the third house down the cross street. A light shone in his uncle’s house. It wasn’t in the front room. Someone had lit a lantern in the room where Uncle Royce treated patients.

  Adam swerved his horse toward it. He’d made up his mind to ride down the stage robber. If Uncle Royce was up, he might as well tell him of his plans.

  He dropped Socks’s reins and left him standing in the street. The front door was unlocked, as always. Adam went in and followed the light to the doorway of the treatment room. His uncle had a cupboard open and was taking out some of his medical instruments and putting them into a wooden crate on the table.

  Adam cleared his throat. “Hey, Uncle Royce.”

  The gray-haired man turned and gave him a nod. “I wondered when
you’d come by.”

  “I almost didn’t, but I saw your light and thought I’d stop in and see how you’re doing.”

  Royce shot him an odd look. “I’m…fine, Adam.”

  “Thought you might have a patient when I saw the lamp was on in here.”

  “No, no patient.”

  “Well, I wanted to tell you that I’m heading out first thing in the morning.”

  “Heading out? Where are you going?”

  Adam took off his hat and scrubbed his hand across his brow. “I’m going after the stage robber, Uncle Royce. You heard about that?”

  “Oh, yes.” The old man sounded a little vague. He turned back to the cupboard and took out a pair of forceps.

  Adam looked over at the desk. A bottle of Kessler whiskey stood on the blotter, with an empty glass beside it. The bottle was still nearly full, and Adam decided not to mention it. The old man wasn’t drunk now. If he wanted a glass before he went to bed, why should his nephew interfere?

  “Lionel should have called you to look Bub Hilliard over,” he said.

  Royce shook his head as he put the forceps in the box. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “Well, it was too late, anyhow, but folks shouldn’t ignore you, just because there’s a younger doctor in town now.”

  “This is as it should be, Adam.” Royce picked up a small metal case and placed it in the crate. The cupboard was nearly empty now.

  “What are you doing, anyway?” Adam stepped closer and peered into the box. His uncle appeared to have stripped the cabinet of instruments and packed them all.

  “My practice is finished now. I thought perhaps Dr. Browning could use some of these things. Of course, he has a lot of newer instruments, but he might find some of them useful.”

  “Oh come on, Uncle Royce. You can still see patients.”

  “Actually, I don’t think I can. The time has come for me to retire.”

  “Well, we’ll talk about that when I come back, you hear me? Don’t give that stuff away yet.”

  “I’m too old, Adam.”

  “Hogwash. You still know how to cure people.”

  Uncle Royce shook his head. “My time is over.”

  “Quit that.” Adam clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few days, as soon as I run down this road agent. You and me will have dinner at the boardinghouse, all right?”

  “Sure, Adam. I’ll see you then.”

  “So long.” Adam walked out unsatisfied. If his uncle gave up seeing patients, what would happen to him? He didn’t want to see Uncle Royce wither away. He’d have to come up with a scheme to get a few of his old patients to give him some business. It didn’t have to be a lot—just enough to keep the old doctor interested.

  He reached the jail and tried to put it out of his mind. Right now he needed sleep, so he’d be sharp when he went after the outlaw.

  The pounding continued. Julia threw off the bedclothes and groped for her robe. With trembling hands, she lit the lamp. As she hurried down the stairs, the knocking was renewed. What news could be so urgent? Oh please, God, not Oliver!

  “Who is it?”

  “Name’s Harrison.”

  Julia hesitated. Did she know anyone named Harrison? On the other hand, would a man intending to harm her announce his name? She set down the lamp, threw back the bolt, and opened the door a crack. Staring at her in the light of the lamp was a grizzled old man.

  Julia wished she’d fetched the pistol she’d bought before her trip home, but it was too late now. The old man grinned at her, showing a gap in his upper jaw where a tooth was missing. His mottled beard looked as though it hadn’t seen soap and water for months. He yanked off his felt hat.

  “Don’tcha remember me, Miss Julie?”

  She looked him over, trying not to shudder. “I guess not. Help me out.”

  “I’m Clew Harrison.”

  She eyed his face closely, though she didn’t want to, and this time she caught a glimmer of a remembered face.

  “Oh, sure. You came to Canyon Diablo when we lived there.”

  “That’s right.” He slapped his thigh and laughed. “You been there lately?”

  “No. Not since my father died.”

  “Aw, yeah. That was a sad day for you, I’ll bet. The Diné sure liked him when he was up there.”

  Julia’s father had served as Indian agent at the Canyon Diablo trading post from 1899 to 1902, when Canyon Diablo was little more than a ghost town. The trading post served the Navajo community, and most of the friends the Newman family made during that time were Navajo, or Diné as the tribe members called themselves.

  “I remember when that town had fourteen saloons,” Clew said. “Wildest place this side of Tombstone.”

  “It was pretty quiet by the time my family lived there,” Julia said. She remembered climbing about the ruins of the town with her brother. “Nothing left but the trading post now.” Most of the buildings had been dismantled and removed on the train to the next spot where the track crews needed a town.

  “Yup. I used to haul supplies up there for your daddy.”

  “That’s right.” Now that he mentioned it, Julia recalled Clew Harrison coming to their home a few times and stopping for a meal with her family after his business at the trading post was finished. “May I help you, Mr. Harrison? It’s very late.”

  “Oh, I know, and I’m sorry about that. But I got to tell you something.”

  Julia hesitated. Could this unorthodox visit have something to do with Oliver? She swung the door open wider. “Come in then.”

  He walked in and looked around at the comfortable room, nodding with satisfaction. “Yup. Your ma was a real lady, and she always kept a snug house.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Harrison. What—”

  “You always called me Clew when you was a little nipper.” He winked at her.

  Julia swallowed hard, trying to reconcile her vague memories of a kindly freighter with this rather repulsive old man.

  “How long was you folks at Canyon Diablo?” he asked.

  “About three years, all told. Then my father became a sheriff’s deputy here in Ardell.”

  Clew nodded. “Well, I been working for two years now at the High Desert Mine.”

  “Oh?” Julia’s pulse picked up. “What do you do there?”

  “I’m just their general fetch-it man.”

  “Then you must see Oliver regularly.”

  “My, yes, he’s a good chum. It pays to have a friend in the front office, you know?”

  Julia couldn’t imagine what good Oliver had done for this man, but she nodded. “Do you know where Oliver is now, Clew?”

  He smiled and stuck his hand in his pants pocket, fished around for a few seconds, and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

  “What’s this?” She took it and smoothed it out on the arm of the nearest chair. She caught her breath. Sketched in pencil were several simple drawings. “Where did you get this?”

  “Why, your brother, of course.”

  Of course. The crude figures were symbols she and Ollie had found when they were children, carved in the walls of a cave near Canyon Diablo. Through the rest of their childhood they’d used the “rock writing” as a code. She looked at the old man again. “You saw him. When?”

  “This afternoon. The sheriff came out to the mine and told Mr. Gerry about the robbery. While he was there, they found out Oliver was missing. After the sheriff left, Gerry and the other bigwigs were saying that Ollie must have stolen the payroll—and the sheriff would have to catch him.”

  “How do you know what they said?”

  Clew shrugged. “They don’t pay any attention to me. I’m just an old man who totes wood for their stoves and sweeps up the bark chips. ‘Course, I didn’t believe a word of it. Ollie would never do a thing like that. So I went out to the stable and waited for him. Figured wherever he’d got to this mornin’, he had to come back sooner or later.”

  “Did he?”

  “Sure en
ough. He come back about a hour after the sheriff was there. He’d been down to the miners’ village. Well, I told him everything.”

  Julia stepped closer to him, her heart pounding. “What did he say?”

  “Well, he was stunned. Couldn’t believe they’d think that of him—robbing the stage and killing a man. Why, Bub Hilliard was a friend of his’n.”

  Julia nodded. The relief that swept over her drained her strength, and she sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs. “Go on, please.”

  “Well, he wrote this here paper and told me his sister was coming home—maybe today.” Clew grinned again. “He was mighty tickled that you were coming, Miss Julie. He told me to get the message to you as soon as you arrived in town, but to do it when nobody else was around.”

  Julia’s head whirled. “But I was already here by then.”

  “Yes’m. You’d got back when the stage came. I found that out. But you wasn’t here.”

  “That must have been when I rode back to the place where we were robbed.”

  Clew nodded. “I just hung around town, keeping my head down so to speak. I seen you once, talking to somebody at the store, but Ollie had said not to tell you when there was anyone about, so I waited. I came back here after supper, and you was gone again. Finally it occurred to me to check at the livery. Sam come in after dark, and he told me you’d rented a horse and ridden outta town. Well, I wasn’t sure what to do, so I walked over to the saloon.”

  Julia had to credit him with not drinking himself under the table in the intervening hours. “I’m sorry you had such a hard time finding me. But I’m glad you’re here now. Where is Oliver? Can I see him?”

  “Don’t rightly know. He said he’d keep outta sight and I should just give you that paper. I expected it would tell you where he was.”

  She looked down at the paper again. The first symbol was a lizard, the one she had used for her name. The last one was his symbol—an eagle. She’d need some time to rack her memory and decipher the runes in between.

  “It may at that. I need time to work it out, though.”

  “Well, I’m sorry things are going so bad for you. Most folks in town seem to think Ollie’s guilty, but I know he ain’t.” Clew shook his head. “I heard Lucas Morley say that boy oughta be hung. It ain’t right.”