Old Murders Never Die

by Marja McGraw

  Before reentering the cabin, Pete took a good look around. Neither the cowboy nor the horse was in sight. He said he’d be the lookout while I once again tried to lift the board. After all, it was my mystery.

  He opened the door and Bubba ran past us and inside the house.

  I gave Pete my best withering look. “Some lookout you are.”

  Taking hold of Bubba’s collar, I ordered him to go back outside. He grinned and raced back out, coming to a halt next to Pete.

  Working with the screwdriver again, I felt the board begin to move, just a little. I was encouraged and worked harder, putting more strength into prying it up. I positioned the screwdriver between the boards and stood up, kicking it and stamping on it in one fluid motion. The board flew up and across the room. I rolled my eyes and sighed before pulling out my flashlight.

  Shining my light into the hole, I wasn’t the least surprised to see a box. I brushed dirt off the top of it and carefully lifted it out of the hole and set it aside. It was heavy. Retrieving the board, I set it back in place and stamped it down so it fit neatly in its original place.

  “My mama didn’t raise no dummy,” I said, pushing dirt back into the space around the board . “That ol’ cowboy ain’t gonna know I was ever here.” I spread dirt around on top of the board, too, and stamped on top of everything to make sure it wasn’t sticking up.

  Pete stuck his head through the door. “Are you talking to yourself in there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, quit it, and let’s get out of here. I don’t want that guy to come back and find us here. I left my gun back at the house.”

  I picked up the old wooden box and left the cabin, walking back toward town. So far it had turned out to be a decent day, as long as I didn’t count not finding the car part and not having any chocolate to eat. I wanted to cradle the box and contemplate what it might contain, but it was too heavy. I handed it to Pete, who almost dropped it because of the unexpected weight.

  “Let’s just open it here and see if it’s really worth hauling back to the house,” he said.

  “No. I want to take my time with it.” I didn’t want to open it until we were far away from the cowboy’s cabin.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  We arrived back at the house and I went inside to find a cloth so I could clean the box off before carefully setting it on the table.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Pete said. He pulled his gun out of his sleeping bag, where he’d apparently hidden it, and stuck it in his waistband before walking out the front door.

  Bubba followed him. The dog returned shortly, and I figured Pete had sent him back to stay with me. I thought he might be worried that the cowboy would figure out we’d been to his cabin. I believed we’d gotten away with our search, but still, he could be right.

  I didn’t know why, but I had a feeling the box might be important. It was made out of a rough wood, and I thought the loner might have made it himself. It looked homemade, not like something you’d buy in a store. The other boxes I’d seen so far had corners held together by careful dovetailing, but this one was made with old nails, and they were haphazardly hammered in. Looking at the back, I saw there were no hinges. The box had been nailed shut leaving me with one more degree of difficulty, not that it was a huge deal, but still...

  I sighed and pulled the screwdriver out of my back pocket to pry the top off the box. It had been sealed for a long time and I almost felt as though I were opening a time capsule. What the heck could be so important that you’d put it in a box and try to make sure it couldn’t be opened easily? When the screwdriver didn’t work, I found a small hammer in Pete’s toolbox that would.

  Prying out the last nail, I sat and looked at the box for another moment. Taking a deep breath, I reached for it to see what kind of treasure it held. Slowly, I began to lift the lid. If anyone had watched me, they’d think I was afraid it was full of rattlesnakes.

  “Sandi.”

  I jumped. “You scared me.” My nerves were on edge.

  “Sorry, but I brought you something.” He held out his hand, and in it was a chocolate bar.

  “Pete, I love you.” I grinned. “Where the heck did you find that?”

  “It was in the car. I thought I remembered you buying something at that last store, too, and I remembered you set the bag in the back on the floor.” He smiled, appearing to be very proud of himself.

  I was proud of him, too, and stood up with my hands out.

  He handed me the candy bar.

  “No, I wanted to give you a hug,” I said. “You just made my day.”

  “If I’d known a long time ago that candy is all it takes, we could have had a whole different relationship.”

  After hugging him, I took hold of his hand. “Come with me and sit at the table. I’m about to open the box, and I have a feeling it will be important. Daniel Mack put something inside and nailed the lid shut.”

  He raised an eyebrow. He raises his eyebrows like I sigh. In other words, he does it frequently.

  Opening the wrapper of the candy bar and enjoying the crackle it made, I broke off a piece and popped it in my mouth, savoring the flavor. I wanted the chocolate to last as long as possible. Carefully, I set the remainder of the candy on the table. After moving it farther away from the edge, I lifted the lid off the box and set it aside.

  I clenched my lips together before swallowing and sighing deeply. “This is just weird. There’s nothing in here but a bunch of dirty old rocks.” One by one, I lifted out the rocks and set them on the table, frustrated because I’d been so sure there’d be something of importance in the box. At least it explained why the box was so heavy.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Pete said. He picked up one of the rocks and turned it over in his hand, examining it.

  “Hey,” I said, regaining some of my excitement. “There’s something else in the bottom of the box.” I reached in and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

  “What is it?” he asked, dropping the rock he’d been holding.

  I unfolded the paper and read a very short and poorly written note.

  “Well?”

  “This is a note addressed to the sheriff. Daniel Mack swears he didn’t kill the women in Wolf Creek.”

  “And?”

  “That’s it. Apparently he just wanted to tell the sheriff he was innocent.” I set the note aside, by the sheriff’s records.

  Pete shook his head. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why would he write that note and hide it in a box with a bunch of rocks?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t get it either.”

  Looking down, I saw there was another piece of paper in the box. It had been covered with a thin layer of dirt. I pulled it out and opened it. “This is a map of some kind.”

  Glancing up at Pete, I saw he had an odd expression on his face as he studied one of the rocks. It was a combination of excitement and something akin to hope.

  I folded the map and tucked it back in the box.

  Picking up two of the rocks, he stood and walked over to one of our water buckets. He dropped the rocks into the water before kneeling down on the floor. His gun must have poked him, because he straightened up and pulled it out of his waistband, setting it on the kitchen cabinet. He turned back to the bucket and seemed to be concentrating on something.

  Bubba watched with interest before walking over to sniff the sole of Pete’s shoe.

  Pete flipped his foot at the dog, trying to make him move away. Bubba ignored the movement and continued to sniff, finally licking the sole.

  Reaching into the bucket, Pete began to wash off the rocks.

  “What the heck are you doing?” I walked over to watch.

  I nudged Bubba with my foot, trying to make him move out of the way. Whatever Pete had on his shoe was causing the dog to ignore me.

  “Hey,” I said, pushing the pooch with more vigor.

  He finally looked up at me and, after one more lick, wandered out the fr
ont door. I heard a woof and the sound of twigs breaking as he ran off. I wondered if he’d run across another rabbit.

  Pete lifted the rocks out of the water and rolled them on his jeans to dry them off. He looked up at me with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on his face. He said one word. “Gold.”

  I blinked several times before reaching for one of the rocks. “Are you sure?” The rock did have gold streaks through it.

  “Nope. Could be Fool’s Gold, but why would the guy hide it if it wasn’t real? Tell me that.”

  Instead of answering him, I walked over to the table and picked up a few more rocks, returning to the bucket and dropping them in the water.

  Pete started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re not just a body magnet; you’re a gold magnet, too. This is the second time in your short lifetime that you’ve found hidden gold.”

  He was right. I’d found a hidden treasure a few years earlier. I started to laugh along with him.

  “You folks can giggle all ya want to, but in the meantime, I’m taking that box.”

  Whipping my head around, I saw the cowboy standing in the doorway. He was pointing a gun in our direction.

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Pete slowly reaching for his own gun. I wanted to throw myself on the floor before these two men started firing rounds at each other. So I did.

  “Don’t reach for your gun, buddy. And lady? Get up off the floor. I ain’t intendin’ to shoot either one of you so long as you give me what’s rightfully mine.” His tone when he’d told me to get up off the floor was like he was telling me what an idiot I was.

  “That’s what this is all about?” I should have known. That’s what the cowboy was fastening to the horn of his saddle this morning. Gold pans. He was going up to the hills and panning gold. There must be another creek. Or maybe he’d found an old mine.

  “No, that’s not what this is all about,” the cowboy echoed. “But that is my map, and I’ll thank you to hand it over along with the gold.”

  Looking past the cowboy, I smothered an hysterical gurgle only because the cowboy held a gun pointed in our direction. Bubba was slowly creeping up on the man. He was crouched, which wasn’t an easy thing to do for a dog his size. I knew my pampered pooch was going to protect me and Pete. Maybe he wasn’t really pampered, but he soon would be.

  I didn’t hear the horse reacting to Bubba’s presence, so I figured the cowboy must have tied him up away from the house so he could sneak up on us.

  Suddenly Bubba leaped forward and threw himself at the cowboy, hitting him just above the ankles.

  Things seemed to happen in double time after that. The cowboy’s feet flew up in the air and he fell on his back with a loud thud. His gun went off before flying out of his hands.

  Pete jumped up and kicked over the bucket.

  The cowboy seemed to be dazed.

  Pete reached for his gun, slipped on the spilled water, and also fell with a thud.

  Cowboy Bob regained his senses and left the doorway to come inside the house.

  I moved out of the way and threw myself on the floor again.

  Pete picked himself up and headed for the cowboy.

  The cowboy grabbed the box and ran out the door, feet flying like he was in a race. He left the rocks behind.

  Bubba sat just inside the door and quietly watched everything, with his tail thumping on the floor. He stood up and started to follow the cowboy, effectively getting in Pete’s way.

  Pete groaned.

  I could hear the horse whinny before the sound of loud hoof beats reached my ears.

  One, two, three. Cowboy down, cowboy up, cowboy running.

  Four, five, six. Pete down, Pete up, Bubba in the way.

  Seven, eight, nine. Sandi sitting up, Sandi wanting to laugh, Sandi knowing Pete would be upset.

  I sat up and started to laugh anyway. It was part humor and part hysteria. Pete gave me a look that told me he didn’t think it was funny. I calmed down.

  “Guess he wanted the map more than the gold,” I said.

  “Guess so.” He walked out the front door wearing tight lips and a frown. He looked at Bubba as though thinking he were a traitor.

  “Oh, my goodness,” I said, motioning Bubba to me and patting the floor next to me. “This was better than Abbott and Costello.”

  Bubba grinned at me, his tail thumping the floor again. It was all a game to my canine cutie.

  “What do we do now?” I asked the air, watching Pete’s stiff back as he walked away from the house.

  Bubba tipped his head to the side, wondering what I was saying to him. I hadn’t said any of the words he recognized.

  Picking myself up and walking to the table, I saw the one thing I wanted to see. The note Daniel had written, defending himself, was still there.

  Had he been accused of the murders? Was that why he’d written the note? And did the sheriff ever see it?

  I popped another piece of chocolate into my mouth.

  This case baffled me.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Obviously the cowboy had known there was another map besides the one that hung on the wall of the cabin, and we’d found it for him. If he knew there was another map, then somehow he knew more about this town than I’d realized, and that made me wonder why he’d never gone through the buildings. The fact that we’d basically had to break into each building told me his interests were elsewhere. This guy was slick, and maybe a little slippery. He’d been playing us, letting us think he’d gone off somewhere, when in reality he’d been watching us go through the cabin. Maybe he figured if he couldn’t find the map, possibly we could. And what did we do? We left the cabin carrying an old wooden box.

  Finding the map should count in our favor as far as getting our car part back – you’d think. I wondered if he’d declared war by coming in with a gun and taking the map or if we could somehow approach him, asking for a truce. Pete would be ticked off, that was for sure. Could he calm down long enough to talk to this guy? I wondered if there was any good way to approach the man without guns being drawn again.

  I heard the sound of crackling twigs as Pete returned to the house. Bubba met him at the door and licked his hand, probably trying to make a doggie apology. Pete wasn’t having any of it and ignored my humble hound.

  “Come on, Pete. Bubba didn’t mean to get in your way, and don’t forget he pretty much saved us from Cowboy Bob.”

  “Cowboy Bob? Where did that come from?”

  “I don’t know. It just felt like I needed to give him a name.”

  I hadn’t known, until Bubba came into my life, that dogs can have hurt feelings, feel sadness and joy, and pretty much react the way people do to a lot of things.

  Pete turned back to Bubba, who sat by the door looking hurt. He walked over and scratched the dog’s tan-colored head. “Yeah, I know you didn’t mean to stop me, pal. You did good.”

  Bubba’s tail thumped on the floor once, and he looked into Pete’s face.

  “Yes, you’re a good boy.” He patted the dog’s back, and Bubba’s tail began to move freely. He smiled up at Pete, showing all of his teeth.

  “Well, I’m glad you two have made up,” I said, “but now what do we do? If he knew we were searching his house, he obviously didn’t hide the car part there.”

  “I took a walk and thought about that guy. I think we need to try to get his attention and make him understand that we don’t want his gold; we just want to talk to him and get out of town.”

  “I hope we can make him pay attention. Maybe if I go up to the cabin without you. He might listen if it’s just me.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I could hear the stubbornness in Pete’s voice. There was a good chance Alpha Man was about to show up, and I wanted to try to head him off.

  “You could hide in the trees. We can let him think I’m by myself. If there’s trouble, you can come running. And I can take Bubba with me. He’s very protective.�
��

  “Yeah, as long as the cowboy doesn’t shoot him.”

  “Somehow I don’t think the guy is a killer. He’s had plenty of opportunities to take us out. He could have buried us in the town ceme… Hey, I wonder if there’s a town cemetery around here.”

  “Sandi, your mind is wandering again. One problem at a time, okay?”

  “Uh huh.” My mind was moving in various directions, as he’d said, and I knew it. I thought maybe a gravestone would tell us a story. They used to put more information about the deceased on them than they do today.

  “I can see by your eyes that you’re not going to let go of the cemetery idea. You keep Bubba here and I’ll take the sheriff’s map and see if I can find it.”

  “Good idea,” I replied, absentmindedly. “While you’re gone, I think I’ll read a little more of the sheriff’s records. Maybe I’ll read more of Ambrose’s story, too.”

  He left the house, admonishing me to keep my eyes and ears open. “That cowboy could come back, you know.”

  I waved at him and picked up the 1880 record book. “Keep your own eyes open. Cowboy Bob seems to be kind of sneaky.”

  I read the rest of the 1880 records. There’d been a lot of snow in the winter of 1880, and things had remained quiet. The sheriff commented that people hardly left their houses except to take care of chores and business. Annie continued to teach, and it seemed that teaching was her calling. She was happy, and so was Sheriff Croft. He made off-handed remarks about the murders from time to time, but nothing new happened. Setting aside 1880, I moved on to 1881.

  Summer is here agin an it seems like it came in real fast this year. Wolf Creek been quiet, and folks seem to have forgotten that anyone was kilt. There goin about there busness like nothing could happen. Not me though. I am still keepin my eyes open and watchful. I aint forgettin those women any time soon. Mebbe the killer really was that feller who was passin through and died. But my insides tell me that aint the case.

  The town picnic is comin up in a cupple of weeks, an the towns people are excited to have something to do that is diffrent from farmin and chores. The childrun can not wait.