“What did that Injun boy bring you?” Taneal asked, trying to look over his shoulder as Matt stood on the porch reading the note.
“It’s from Charboneau. That’s one of them Apache cowboys rides for him.”
“Figured it was one of his killers.”
“Killers?” What the hell did she mean by that? Them Apache boys rode for the old man, worked for half wages. Saved him lots of money.
“They ain’t no better than them filthy Comanches in Texas. Same thing. They’d rape a white woman first chance they got. Steal their babies and raise them as their own. Damn heathens. But he ain’t much better. Well? What did he say?”
“I need to meet him this evening.”
“Something else wrong?”
“I’m not certain. That cattle buyer is camping at Alma Creek Ford tonight and wants the other reps there.”
“Why at that bloody place?” She made a displeased face.
“I’m not certain,” he mumbled, deep in his own thoughts. Before Jakes rode out, the last thing he did was warn him about that guy Haskell being so hell-bent on collecting that reward. What if Porter got loose-tongued up there?
It was time. He needed to do something about Porter. But how? Who knew about Jakes leaving? Maybe he could get rid of Porter and point the finger at Jakes. Why, the old man was long gone to Tularosa. They’d never find him. A smile creased Matt’s face. One troublemaker dead, another disappeared.
Could he leave some evidence to point at Jakes? He
would have to check his foreman’s shack and see what he left behind for him to use, but the idea had merit.
“What’re you thinking?” she asked.
“Nothing. Where’s the boy?”
“What do you need him for? Doc said—”
“He can oil harness. That won’t hurt his damn leg! Get his ass down there to the tack room and have him oil every piece of leather in that shed! Let him earn his keep around here.”
“All right, Lord High Ass. I’ll go up and tell him. But if you so much as raise a hand again to him, you and I are going to have a fight.”
“Come on. Let’s go.” He took a prize-fighter’s stance, raised his fists, and shook them at her.
“It won’t be no fair fight, Matt McKean. I’ll make you wish you were dead.”
“I’d like to see it.”
“What happened that day you brought him home so sick?”
“What do you mean?” A cold chill ran up his cheek. Had the boy told her something about the lynching? No, or she’d not be asking, she’d be accusing him. If that boy had whispered one word to her—one word.
“When that cattle buyer mentioned the lynching—”
“He was here talking to you about it?” Matt looked at her in disbelief.
“Yes. A couple of days or so ago.”
“What did he ask?” He needed to know. Jakes must have known he’d been there. Maybe the old man knew more than he had told him about Haskell. How did Jakes know to go check Stearn’s tent for the paintings? Things didn’t add up.
“When Haskell mentioned the hangings, Randy got violently sick again. Fell down. I worried he had rebroken his leg.”
“What did Haskell say?”
“I’m not certain. Oh, yes, how you told him that there was no evidence of rustling in the basin to him.”
“I never—what did you say then?”
“Don’t holler at me,” she snarled.
Her angry look of indignation blinded him. He whipped out his hand hard across her face and sent her reeling backward. Then in a flash, he had her by the upper arms, shaking her. “What did you tell that sumbitch Haskell?”
“That there had been rustling. Lots of it!”
He shook her with such fury that she paled. “You stupid bitch, that’s why he’s here! He’s after that reward. He got you to tell him …” So shaken by his newfound knowledge, he released her and stared at the wall.
“Tell him what?” she asked, sprawled on the floor and rubbing the side of her face with her palm. “Damn you, Matt McKean.”
But he had no time for her. Two steps at a time, he rushed upstairs and burst into the boy’s room. He wasn’t there. Where was that lazy ass? He came back down. Still dazed, she leaned on the table and avoided looking at him.
“Where did he go?” he demanded
“Who?”
“The boy! That stupid boy of ours!”
“He’s not upstairs?” She stared in disbelief at him.
“No. He’s gone. Listen, if this family doesn’t close ranks, and quickly, we stand to lose it all. Everything. Do you understand?”
“What for?” Then she slapped her hands over her mouth. Her green eyes widened in disbelief. “You hung them? Oh, Jesus, you hung them.”
“Get yourself together.” He scowled at her in disgust.
“Oh, my God, you took him—you took Randy along with you for that.” She staggered around in a circle like a drunk. “How could you have done that?”
He stepped in, grasped her arms in a vice-like hold and shook her hard. “You better listen good. Yes. We hung them. Your precious son was there. In the eyes of the law, he’s an accomplice, and if you don’t want him hung, you better quiet this down. It won’t only be the end of this ranch, but your life and your son’s as well.”
She fell to the floor when he released her and raised up to a sitting position, with one arm bracing herself. The other hand swept the hair back from her face. “You dirty rotten bastard.”
“You heard me?”
She waved him away. “I don’t care. Don’t give a damn about you, this ranch—nothing.”
“You will if you don’t want that boy hung.”
“That’s why Jakes left you, isn’t it?” she screamed after him.
He turned in the doorway and glared back at her. “Yeah. That old sumbitch lost his guts, too.”
“I hate you, Matt McKean!” she screeched.
He could hear her still ranting and cussing him, dishes breaking, while he saddled his horse at the corral. Must have gone mad. He might have to have her institutionalized, she kept that up. Regular stark-raving crazy woman. He grinned to himself over the notion of her in the crazy farm, while he and Lana shared the bed upstairs.
With a look around to be certain no one saw him, he headed the hump backed buckskin for Jakes’s shack. He sawed hard on the bits and tried to spur the buck out of the gelding. The cowpony danced in a circle, made a short run, two or three hard pitches, before Matt got his head up. He really needed a stupid horse at this moment. One simple piece of evidence to plant was all he wanted. He gave the buckskin a hard jerking from side to side to make him settle down and behave
Better hurry. It looked like rain again. Clouds were gathering in the south. At last, he dismounted and tied the reins to the hitch rack. Angry with the horse, he scowled at him, then hurried for the plank door of Jakes’s small shack.
Inside, he searched the room. The stained feather tick was rolled up on the end of the cot. Couple of old riatas on the antlers. Broken, short, or too old and rotten was why Jakes left them. The room smelled sour and moldy. Dog-eared calendars decorated the walls. A couple of cracked nude girlie pictures were concealed underneath the framed
racehorse ones. But he knew where they were. Then, on the floor under the table, he found the old spur strap with the initials S. J. carved on it.
That would do. Where would he find Porter at this time of day? He better ride that way. Watch out to be sure no one could pin the man’s death on him, and get it over with.
That left Randy, and he’d impressed Taneal enough to have her keep his mouth shut. Where had that worthless boy gone? Made no sense where he would go on crutches, but for the moment he had other things to worry about. He should have known from the start Porter was too weak for such an undertaking. That old man Yancy Porter, he’d hung his share. But Reed had no guts, none whatsoever. He’d have even less before sundown.
Matt stepped in the stirrup and before his right foot found the other one, the buckskin exploded.
“All I needed. All I needed,” he kept repeating, fighting the horse’s bogged head upward with little success. Half a mile from the ranch, he finally got him into a lope. The worthless cull. He lashed him from side to side with the reins to run faster.
WILL SEND A NEW WARDEN A.S.A.P. PLEASE STAY IN CHARGE AND GET IT ALL STRAIGHT DOWN THERE. STERLING.
The major put the telegram on his desk. Here he sat in the inescapable heat of the fiery furnace, and all Sterling could say was stay there. When was he sending the new warden? As soon as—oh, it would not be quick enough. He looked up, and with a new white parasol came Miss Hmm through the door. She wore a rather colorful peach dress. A new one, he suspected. He blinked, for her black hair was done in long spiral curls and she wore a very fashionable wide-brimmed straw hat.
“I need some advice,” she said.
“Well, you look very nice,” he said, and gave his head a bob to the side in approval.
“My thanks. I have my rig outside. If you wouldn’t mind going for a ride with me?”
“Of course.” He drew down the flat-crowned panama straw that replaced his felt one from the hat rack. Too hot for his usual felt in this place. “I’ll be back,” he said to his secretary.
Outside, he blinked at the fancy two-seat rig with matching black horses and a uniformed driver.
“I see you have found your inheritance,” he said, and helped her up as the driver made certain the top shaded the rear seat for them.
“Yes. My uncle was a great adventurer. A scallywag and, I am told, a whoremonger. He died here two years ago, leaving his estate to me. I had three years to claim it. The will said I must come in person or the estate would go to a monastery.
“None of my family was ever Catholic.” She made a displeased face at him. “Why my crazy uncle threatened me with that I don’t know. Besides the fact he had been in the desert too long, we will never know. His lawyer kept the estate together. But he was never to divulge the amount until I personally came to Yuma to claim it.
“Needless to say, I suspected to inherit a black box full of rotten eggs.”
“And he left you … ?” The major hung on for her words as the carriage rumbled down the caliche street.
“Three hundred thousand. A ranch in New Mexico and a mine near Prescott. A gold mine.”
“Quite a sum. But what can I do for you?”
“I know you work for the governor, but would you oversee my gold mine, too?”
“Well.” He dabbed his forehead with his kerchief. “What if the mine’s worthless?”
“Then close it. I shall leave that to you. I know you won’t spend good money after bad. You are too damned honest, Gerald Bowen. That’s why I am offering you five hundred a month to oversee the mine manager up there and the operation.”
“That’s lots of money. Why, you could hire—”
She placed a hand on his arm. “I don’t want anyone else.”
He shrugged, trapped. How could he turn down such a lucrative proposition? No way.
“So you will do it?”
“I reckon.”
She grabbed him, kissed him on the mouth, and then shouted, “Hot damn!”
“Ann, you can’t kiss me like that. I have a wife.”
She settled back down and adjusted her hat. “I surely won’t ever embarrass you again. I simply couldn’t help myself either time I did it.”
He twisted and frowned at her.
“I know.” She held out her hands defensively. “I am only hiring your services as an overseer.” Eyes closed, she lay back on the patent leather. Then she shook her head in disbelief. “Your wife is a very lucky woman. Hope she knows that.”
“Oh, she does.” And she’s very lucky, ’cause she’s in Prescott. Where it is a helluva lot cooler than this buggy ride. He took off his panama and wiped his forehead again. Whew.