11
Back at the Mix spread, Helen had gotten herself ready for bed. She had just blown out the lamp and was pulling the heavy quilts back on her large four-poster when her door opened, startling her. She turned quickly to see her husband, Dave, standing silhouetted in the doorway. He was wearing a bathrobe. She could not see the expression on his face in the darkness.
“Dave,” she said, her voice surprised. “What are you doing in here?”
“It’s all right,” he said. “You’re my wife, ain’t you?”
“Yes. Of course. But you’re not well. You—”
“I’m well enough to handle you all right,” he said.
“Dave, I don’t think—”
“You don’t have to think,” he said, striding across the room to catch her in his arms and plant a firm kiss on her mouth. For an instant, her arms flailed loose. Then they reached around his shoulders to caress him, gently, for she was still worried about his shoulder wound. In another moment, Dave let her go. He pulled off his robe and let it drop to the floor. He had nothing else on.
“Dave,” she said.
He started to pull her nightdress down off her shoulders.
“Dave,” she protested.
“That’s my name,” he said. “I like the way it sounds coming out of your mouth.”
He caused the nightdress to fall to the floor around her feet. He looked at her for a moment, then reached out to place a hand on each of her firm breasts. Her nipples hardened under his touch.
“Dave,” she said, “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“Then you’d better not struggle,” he said, “or you might hurt me.”
He pushed her backward slowly until she ran into the bed and lost her balance, falling into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. He kept coming at her, and she scampered onto the bed, moving to the center. He crawled in on top of her, and he kissed her again. This time, his tongue probed the inside of her mouth. Soon, she responded in kind. They dueled in this manner for a long moment, and then she felt the hardening member between his legs begin to poke at her between her legs.
“Oh,” she said, and she reached down with both hands, grasping the rod with one and the heavy balls with the other. She placed the head of the rod against her wet pussy and rubbed it up and down. Then she guided it into her deep hole, and Dave thrust forward and downward with all his might.
“Oh,” she said again. “Oh. Oh.”
He began pounding with all his might, too eager to worry about her needs. He felt the pressure welling up inside him, and then he spewed forth. In another moment, he rolled off her, lying beside her panting.
“I was afraid it might be too much for you,” she said.
“You think so?” he said. He rolled back on her, but this time he moved lower, pressing his face between her thighs, and his tongue darted out and flicked at her tender spot.
“Oh, Dave,” she said. “Oh. Oh, yes.”
Slocum rode back into Hangdog early the next morning, but it was not so early that Thaddeus Speer was not up and about already. Slocum found the sheriff walking across the street headed for Brenda’s Place. He rode up beside the lawman. Speer looked up at him.
“You look like you been riding all night,” he said.
“I have,” Slocum answered. “You going to breakfast?”
“Yep.”
“Mind some company?”
“Nope.”
Slocum rode slowly keeping beside Speer till they reached the restaurant. Then he dismounted and slapped the reins of his mount around the hitch rail. He walked inside with Speer. There were a few people in already, the local early birds. Brenda spotted Slocum and Speer and smiled. “I’ll be right with you,” she said. They took a table, and in another moment, Brenda put coffee on the table in front of them. “What’ll you boys have this morning?” she asked.
“Eggs and ham,” said Slocum. “Taters, biscuits, and gravy. The works.”
“I’ll have the same,” said Speer.
“I’ll have it right out,” Brenda said, and she turned and walked away.
“So where the hell’ve you been?” Speer asked.
“You know those three rustlers?”
“Sure I do.”
“I was riding herd at Davey’s place when they hit. I dropped one of them right there. The other two took off, and I chased them. Up in the hills, one of them tried to ambush me. I killed him. The other one had run off and left him. I followed him all the way to a little place called Slapdash. Found him having a drink in the saloon. The place was full of cowhands. I pulled on the bastard and told him we was heading back here together, and he appealed to the cowboys for help. So I told them why I was after him. For rustling cattle, stealing horses, and killing a cowboy. They took over then. Wasn’t nothing I could do about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“They took the son of a bitch out in the street and strung him up.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“Anyhow, that oughta be the end of the rustling problems around here. At least for a while.”
Slocum picked up his cup and took a long slurp of coffee. It sure tasted good. He had needed it. He also needed the good food that Brenda was bringing out just then. “Eat it up,” she said. “If you’re still hungry after that, there’s more.”
After Brenda was gone again, Speer asked Slocum, “Have you had any more thoughts about that other problem?”
“Who shot Davey?”
“Yeah. And wrecked his wagon and burned his store. That little problem. The thing that brought you to town, if you told me right.”
“I keep thinking about that small boot print,” Slocum said.
“Oh, that. Yeah.”
“I ain’t seen a man that little around here.”
“You think it was a woman?”
Slocum shrugged.
“It’s kinda hard to think about a woman laying in ambush like that and shooting a man down.”
“Helen told me she rides every day,” Slocum said. “Said she can shoot too.”
“Helen and Dave Mix just got hitched,” said Speer, astonished at the suggestion.
“I didn’t say she done it,” Slocum said. “I just used her as an example. If she can ride and shoot like a man, there may be others that can do the same. That’s all I’m saying.”
“That ain’t all you’re saying. You suspect her, don’t you? You’re thinking she might come in here to get that will changed too. And about her not waiting for Dave to heal all up before they got hitched. You’re thinking about all that stuff, and you’re suspicioning her of trying to kill Dave so she can inherit everything from him. That’s what you’re thinking, ain’t it?”
“Speer,” said Slocum, “all I said was I was thinking about that small boot print. You said all the rest of that.”
“Yeah, all right, but what about that goddamned gunfighter fellow, that Bart Rowland? What about him?”
“I’d say he was involved some way. Didn’t you say that he admitted coming here in someone’s employ?”
“That’s right, and he won’t say who the hell it is either.”
“We’d better watch him,” said Slocum.
“He said that he ain’t got no reason to see his employer till his job’s done.”
“We need to watch him anyhow,” Slocum said.
Helen sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled her nightdress on over her head. As it draped down over her upper body, she said casually to her husband, “Your friend thinks that I’m the one that shot you.”
“Who are you talking about?” said Mix.
“That Slocum,” she said. “He thinks I shot you.”
“He can’t think that,” said Mix. “You misunderstood something he said.”
“I understood him clearly all right,” she said. “He found a small boot print at the scene of the shooting, a woman’s size.”
“That don’t prove anything. Hell, I’ve seen men with feet that small.”
“Seen any around here lately?”
“Well, no, but it still don’t prove nothing. As far as that goes, you ain’t the only woman around here either.”
“But who else would have a reason to kill you, darling?”
“What are you talking about?”
“With you dead, I inherit everything. And Slocum did see me out riding, carrying my guns.”
Dave Mix sat up quickly and grabbed up his bathrobe. He was walking toward the door as he pulled it on. “I’ll straighten out his ass, that son of a bitch,” he said.
Charley Hill was riding the range where Mix’s land adjoined Ritchie’s. Unknown to Hill, not far away on the Ritchie side, Jay Everett was riding the fence. On a knoll not far away, Bart Rowland lay on his belly with a pair of binoculars. He was watching Hill. Hill was riding directly toward him. Rowland waited a space, then set aside his glasses and picked up his rifle, a .38-caliber Volcanic, and took careful aim. He squeezed the trigger. The roar of the shot and the smell of burnt powder filled the air, and a puff of smoke rose up from the spot where Rowland lay. Down below, Hill jerked in his saddle. His head tilted as he looked down at his chest. Then he went limp all over at once and fell back out of the saddle. At his secluded spot on the knoll, Rowland cranked another round into the Volcanic.
Jay Everett heard the shot. He turned his horse and rode toward the noise of the report. The first thing he saw was the loose horse, saddled but riderless. He knew that something was wrong. He pulled the rifle out of his saddle boot and cranked a shell into the chamber. He rode more slowly along the fence, looking to the other side, Mix’s side, the side where the loose horse wandered. Then he saw the body. He looked around quickly, but he could see no one. He dismounted and scrambled over the fence, taking his rifle with him. He ran over to the body and recognized it as Charley Hill. He checked it quickly and saw that Charley was gone from this world. Still down on one knee beside the remains of Hill, Everett held his rifle ready and looked around. Still, he could see no one. He did see the tree and brush-covered knoll. Someone could be up there. He was looking at it when he saw the puff of smoke. Then he felt the slug slap into his chest. He sat down hard on his butt and rocked there a moment. Then he fell forward on his face, his legs still doubled up grotesquely beneath him.
Dave Mix stepped out onto his porch and shouted for someone, anyone. A cowhand came running up to the house. “Find Charley for me,” Mix said. “And hurry it up. Get someone to saddle me a horse.”
“I’ll get your horse, Boss,” the cowboy said, “but it’ll take a while to round up Charley. He rode out to the east range a little while ago.”
“Never mind then,” said Mix. “Just bring me the horse. I’ll ride out after him myself.”
Helen stepped out on the porch as the cowboy headed for the corral. “Dave,” she said. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to ride out and get Charley to go to town with me,” he said. “I mean to see Slocum and straighten this shit out.”
“You’re not fit to ride,” she said.
“I was fit enough last night, wasn’t I?” he said.
“I just think it’s too early for you to—”
“Never mind all that,” Mix said. “I’m all right.”
Just then the cowhand came back leading a fresh, saddled horse. Mix went down off the porch and mounted up. Without another word, he turned the animal and lashed at it, kicking its flanks at the same time. He rode hard and fast away from the house.
Rowland made his way back into Hangdog the back way, avoiding being seen. He left his horse at the livery, with instructions to unsaddle it, rub it down, and feed it well, and special instructions to Dyer to keep his mouth shut. Then he walked the distance to the hotel in the back of the buildings and went inside by the back door. He went quietly up to his room.
Mix rode out to the fence on the east side of his property. It didn’t take him long to spot the loose horse, and it wasn’t much longer when he came across the two bodies lying there together. He looked around and spotted the other horse on the other side of the fence. He stood over the bodies for a long moment, hat in hand. Then he mounted up and rode back to the house. He found a hand and ordered him to hitch up the wagon and drive it out there. He sent another two cowboys along to gather up the horses and to help load the bodies into the wagon. His instructions were then to take the bodies into town. He sent one cowhand to find Ritchie and inform him of the news. Then he rode toward Hangdog alone.
It was nearly midday by the time Mix reached Hangdog. He stopped in front of the sheriff’s office, dismounted, tied his horse to the rail, and went inside. Speer was seated behind his desk. He looked up when Mix walked in.
“Dave,” he said, surprise evident in his voice, “I’m surprised to see you up and around so soon.”
“I’m all right,” said Mix. “I found Charley Hill and Jay Everett dead on my range this morning.”
“What?”
“You heard me right. Charley’s horse was wandering on my side of the fence, and Jay’s on the other side, but both bodies were on my property.”
“Did they kill each other?”
“Neither one of their guns had been fired. Someone else got them both.”
“Well, was there any evidence of rustling or anything like that?”
“No. Someone just rode out there and shot them both. That’s all. I’ve sent one of my boys to tell Ritchie about it. I’ve got another one bringing in the bodies.”
“Goddamn,” said Speer.
“You know, Slocum said something about someone trying to stir up trouble between me and Ritchie. The only thing I can figure is that this is part of that scheme.”
“But who the hell could it be?”
“I don’t know, Thad,” said Mix, “but it reminds me. Where the hell is that damned Slocum?”
“My guess, this time of day, is that he’s over to Brenda’s Place. Either that or he will be right soon.”
“I’ll find him,” said Mix, and he turned and walked out the door. As he aimed himself for Brenda’s Place, he spotted Slocum walking in that direction. “Hey! Slocum!” he called out.
Slocum stopped and turned to see Mix. He changed his direction and walked to meet Mix. He had a smile on his face, but he soon saw that Mix did not. His own expression turned serious then.
“What is it, Davey?” he said.
“Slocum,” said Mix, “you son of a bitch. We need to talk.”