All the Old Lions (A Thea Barlow Mystery, Book One) Page 14

  He stopped his busy work and smiled at me. I melted into it, not caring whether he answered or not.

  He said, “Don’t make too much of all this, will you? It’s not that important. Weren’t you ever a wallflower at the junior prom?”

  I sat quietly under his gaze as he took thorough stock of me.

  “No, I guess not,” he said finally. “I’ve been gone from Hijax a long time. Coming home has been interesting. Pulled a lot of triggers I didn’t know were there.”

  His pause was long but comfortable. I was content to wait, sure he would continue.

  “My dad wasn’t a sheepman. He wasn’t much of anything as far as I can tell. Odd jobs, handyman. He left when I was just a kid.”

  “What happened to your grandmother after…”

  “The night they hung grandpa, they slaughtered all his sheep as well. Left ninety head with their throats cut and bellies slit, lying in a puddle of blood a mile long, so the story goes. Grandma told mother the two of them were lucky to be alive. Claims they would have been killed, too, if she hadn’t been off visiting friends that night. As it was, she and my mom were taken in by relatives over in Ten Sleep.”

  I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have such an exotic tale in your background. “Why did your mother come back to Hijax?”

  “It wasn’t until years later, and then just by chance. After my mother married, she and dad moved all over the state chasing work, and ended up here with the cafe. By then all the hate and fear was forgotten. Nobody ever bothered them. In fact, when Dad left Mom with a pile of debts, the whole town stood behind her. My problems were just kid stuff; I was an easy mark.”

  I don’t know what reminded me of Minnie and her problems. Maybe I equated Max’s dismal upbringing with Minnie’s and Lil’s. At any rate, I remembered what I had wanted to tell him last night.

  “By the way,” I said. “I got an interesting reaction from my suspect, Potts, last night, before the party was over and I found poor Cora. When I met him, my hand went up to my head,” I mimicked the action, rubbing the sore spot I could still feel. “He practically fell to pieces, wouldn’t look at me and left as quickly as he could.”

  Again, it took Max a long time to answer, as if he were concerned with more important things. “You sure he wasn’t just being Potts? He’s a strange one.”

  It was my turn to be defensive. “Of course I’m sure. He didn’t come right out and say, ‘How’s your head?’ or anything, but he certainly looked guilty as hell.”

  “But why? Why would he ransack Minnie’s office?”

  “Because of the hang…” I caught myself just in time. If Minnie was right, no one but the two of us, and possibly the person who raided her office, knew she had identified the vigilantes. And fortunately, some tiny remnant of common sense prevented me from blurting it out. But I couldn’t help wondering what Max would do with the information. On the other hand, it was high time I got my nose out of places it didn’t belong.

  “Minnie thinks the ransacker was after her manuscript, but she keeps it well hidden.” I ran my fingers through the sandy hot soil and kept my eyes on Max’s strong hands as they worked the strands of grass.

  “Maybe you’re right.” He echoed my sigh, but sounded totally unconvinced. Rising to his feet, he picked up a large flat crystal. With a few fast twists he secured it by both points with the braided grass, then pulled me up and tied the bracelet around my wrist with a neat knot.

  “For the princess. Your friend is over there waiting for you and I’ve wasted more time than necessary.”

  I turned and saw the dog a few yards away, sitting on his haunches, panting. I called and he slithered over, keeping a wary eye on Max.

  Max shook his head. “As I said before, a sorry animal.”

  “But he has a frivolous heart. You should feel kin to him.”

  He gave me the full blast of his smile and pulled me into his arms. His kiss tasted of sun and salt and was utterly satisfying.

  When finally we drew apart he said reluctantly, “I really do have to get this stretch of fence fixed, but I’d like to spend some time with you, alone. How about tonight? We could go to town. There’s not much to do there, but we could find someplace where we could talk, get to know each other better before you have to leave.”

  “Mmmmm,” I said, instead of telling him I planned to leave this afternoon. Go home, you fool, you have work to do. But the old, comfortable, pragmatic me was fast overridden by a strange new entity whose heart was going pitty-pat. What the hell, I thought, my emotions were already in a turmoil, why not let the pot boil a bit?

  “You’ve changed your tune. I seem to recall—when first we met—you growling something like, ‘Why don’t you go back where you came from?’”

  “Did I say that?”

  “As a matter of fact, you did.”

  He nuzzled my neck. “I can’t imagine why.”

  “Try.” I pulled away, suddenly quite serious. “How did you know who I was? Why did you tell me to leave?”

  “A bad day, I guess.” His hands massaged my spine, making it hard to concentrate. “Minnie was giving me a hard time. I tried to point out, not for the first time, the consequences of her writing that damned book. If she’d just let herself settle into the community for a year or so, and get a chance to meet people without prying into their affairs, then maybe they’d be more receptive. She didn’t want to listen. Told me you were coming, and I knew you’d be pushing for her to finish that book. I was ready to throw in the shovel and leave. Want me to eat my words?”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Why don’t you come along with me while I finish the fence? No, wait. Will you do something for me? Would you drive over to Enright’s and see if they have some wire stretchers I could borrow? I can get this done twice as fast with stretchers.”

  “How do I get there?”

  “Turn right on the gravel when you come out of Minnie’s drive. You can’t miss it. About five or six miles, nice looking house, mailbox on the road.”

  “All right.” I could use some thinking time. To stay or to go.

  The dog and I watched Max walk down the fence line and disappear around a hill. Then we turned and headed for Halfway Halt. The words, once used by Max, “Why don’t you go back where you came from?” ran through my mind like a nagging reprimand. Go back home. Yes, I thought, that’s what I should do, get on with my goals, don’t get distracted. Think of my career, my job. But instead, I was thinking how I could rearrange my plans. What difference would it make if I left tomorrow instead of this afternoon? None. I would still be going back to where I came from, just a little later than expected.

  The words jarred something, stirred the dark pool of suspicion that lurked so close to the surface. The hate letter Minnie had received. Hadn’t it begun with the same words Max had said to me that first day on the road? “Why don’t you go back where you came from?”

  Coincidence? Yes. Yes, of course. The crude language of the note wasn’t Max’s style. Besides, practicality assured me, all I had to do was ask him about it. Tonight. Yes, tonight, we’d talk. I would allay all my suspicions, once and for all. And maybe there would be more than talk.

  Eleven

  The Enright’s house was quite new. A one-story affair, like those built all over the states and called ranch style, though I was beginning to discover that real ranch houses bore little resemblance to the suburban models. The real thing seemed to be either out-of-place mausoleums like Halfway Halt, or an uncontrolled sprawl of additions tacked onto any kind of beginning.

  I parked in the driveway behind a truck, and chose the back entrance by the garage to knock on rather than the remote and unused-looking front door. It was the right choice. Jim opened the door almost immediately.

  “Well, hello,” he said, then led me through a spotless utility room and into the kitchen where Helby sat nursing a cup of coffee.

  “Look who’s here, Dad. Your charm is still intact. You in
vite her to come and see you, and boom, here she is.” His cheerfulness seemed forced.

  I sensed a strain, and wondered if I’d interrupted an argument.

  Helby rose. “It’s more likely you that brought her here.”

  His austere face seemed to lighten and I thought he was glad to see me.

  I said, “I hate to disillusion you both, but this is a business call, though no one said I couldn’t enjoy myself while I was here.”

  “What can we do for you?” Jim asked as Helby poured a mug of hot coffee for me.

  “Wire stretchers, whatever they might be. Max wondered if you had some and if he could borrow them.”

  Helby nodded. “I think they’re in the pickup.”

  “No, I put them in the shop, Dad. I’ll get them. What’s Holman doing, anyway?”

  “Fixing fence, obviously.” Helby’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  “Yes,” I added quickly, not wanting to get in the middle of another disagreement. “He seems to work from dawn to dusk fixing things that are broken.”

  “We could use some of that around here,” Helby said pointedly.

  Jim just gave me a wink, smiled at the old man, and went out the door.

  Helby turned to me and asked, “Have you recovered from last night? You’re not having a very good introduction to Wyoming. Jim says it was you who found Cora.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry for that. Sheriff said he wouldn’t know what she died of until tomorrow, maybe not then.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “Well, she was a foolish woman.” And that apparently closed the case as far as he was concerned.

  He brightened. “How’s Minnie? Ornery as ever?”

  “Yes,” I said. “She’s been working all morning. I feel quite slothful.”

  “She’s quite a gal.” He poured himself another cup of coffee. Mine was still in the sip and blow stage. Helby looked older today, dressed in faded jeans and a cotton shirt. He walked with the slight forward tilt of the aged which was more evident now without the loose vest.

  “Everybody spoiled that Minnie like sin. Halfway Halt was lively in those days. You would have liked it,” he added wickedly.

  I laughed.

  “That place was more than a whorehouse, you know. In fact, we most never thought of it that way. The big room, that was a place where you could put your feet on the table and spit on the floor if you wanted. Meet your friends and such like. Lil even let us young whippersnappers hang around. Of course, the women—the wives and such—never believed it was just meeting friends and talking. Maybe that was half the fun.”

  Jim came in saying, “You’re all set, Thea. I put the stretchers in your car.” He glanced at the clock. “I’ve got to get going. Hate to leave you, but I’ve got a meeting in town. Don’t want to be late.”

  “Town again? You might have told me,” Helby said. “What about those calves you were going to treat?”

  “Dad, I told you. You keep forgetting.” He dropped a light proprietary kiss on my cheek. “I’m going to get the vaccine while I’m in town.”

  “If you’d stop gallivantin’ around the country and pay more attention to the ranch—”

  “And if you hadn’t fired the help. Ancient history, Dad, forget it. I’ll doctor the calves tomorrow.” He smiled at me. “Don’t rush off on my account, Thea,” he said, I think in way of apology. “Dad hasn’t had any company in a long time.”

  “I’m in no hurry,” I assured him as the door closed.

  Helby sat with his head bowed over his coffee. We listened to the engine start, then retreat into the distance, accompanied by a larger rumble.

  I looked up. “Is that thunder?”

  “Yeah, but don’t count on rain.” He peered out the window.

  “It sounds more business-like than usual.”

  “Maybe.” He stared up at the clouds. “If it rains the calves won’t get treated tomorrow, either. Does more damfool running to town.” As if to accent his thoughts, two large drops of water splashed against the window.

  “Well, someone has to take an interest in civic affairs,” I offered rather apologetically. I wasn’t sure what I should say, if anything, but plunged on regardless. It wasn’t likely I’d learn to keep my mouth shut at this late date. “It takes a lot of hard work and intelligence to get elected to the state legislature. I think it’s pretty terrific that Jim takes the time and effort to get involved.” All I needed was a megaphone and some bunting.

  “Maybe, but it’s no way to run a ranch.”

  “I understand you did your share of civic duties when you were his age.”

  He smiled slyly. “We always made sure the right people got elected sheriff.” He paused, shook his head. “I’m too old is all,” he said. His voice faded on a note of bitter acquiescence. “Come on,” he said, throwing off his depression. “Let’s have some lunch, and watch it rain.”

  A big pot of chili sat on the stove’s back burner. Helby ladled out two large crockery bowls full, handed me one, and grabbed a box of crackers. I followed him out to the front step, a concrete slab big enough for two metal chairs, and protected by overhanging eaves. Casual chatter satisfied both of us while we ate the thick, spicy soup, and sucked in great draughts of rain-sweetened air. The parched grass darkened with anticipation.

  Helby’s voice broke into the silence. “I’ve always been too old.”

  With a queer inner flip I thought of the cocky teenager, and the hanging body with the broken neck.

  “Didn’t marry until I was forty. Then it was five years before we had a baby that lived: Jim. My wife died when he was six.”

  The rain began to fall in fat, sluggish drops that splattered here and there, raising tiny haloes of dust.

  “Didn’t know nothing about raising kids.” His voice was flat and dry, the emotions involved had been spent long ago. “Too damn old.”

  “Being a parent at any age is tough,” I ventured. “Maybe you were expecting too much of yourself, wanted results that are difficult to achieve in this time, this age.” I was groping.

  “You mean what it took to be a man in the old days?”

  I nodded. “Something like that.”

  He ran his hand over his chin, his eyes on the sky. “God knows, I didn’t want Jim to be like me. I wanted him more…to be…I didn’t know how.”

  I’d listened to enough bewildered parents to understand some of the agony he was trying to express.

  “I guess no child ever lives up to what a parent expects or wants.” I thought of my mother and her hunger for grandchildren, and Dad’s wistful hints that I become more politically active. “But somehow we—the children—manage to muddle through. Jim is intelligent and ambitious. And if those attributes tend to pull him away from the life you’re used to, and want for him, still aren’t they some of the qualities you hoped he would have? You mustn’t think you were a failure.”

  I quailed under his frosty gaze. Certainly I had breached the boundaries of casual conversation. Perhaps he guessed my consternation, because he reached out and patted my hand.

  “You’re a comfort,” he said, “if that’s the right thing to say to a young…uh…swinger.” But I got the feeling that I hadn’t really convinced him of anything.

  The rain teased, falling sporadically, just enough to cut the dust and raise a rich, loamy smell. It would take much more than this to make the road slick, but I wanted to reach Minnie’s before that happened. I had stayed longer than I intended, and Max was waiting for the stretchers.

  Helby walked me to the car and opened the door. “Tell Minnie to come over to see me sometime. There’s a lot of things we need to talk about.”

  I wondered what he meant, and if the hanging was one of those things. Did he realize he could still be incriminated?

  Back at Halfway, I parked my car close to the front porch, and ran through the drizzle, waving at the dog who sat in the open door of the barn, enjoying the rain as much as Helby and I had. I stepped out of my shoes in th
e hallway, not wanting to track up Minnie’s polished floor. The falling barometer had robbed the house of every breath of air and left a musky smell that reeked of ancient molds.

  “Minnie, I’m here,” I called, and padded through the hall to the kitchen. I threw open a window and let in a gust of fresh air, then crossed to the office door.

  Minnie was stretched out on the couch, a magazine on her chest, sound asleep. She had either finished her work on the manuscript, or decided to take a break. I didn’t disturb her, but went upstairs to change clothes. If I was going to get caught in the rain when I took the stretchers to Max, I wanted to be dressed for it.

  In the process of exchanging cotton slacks for heavier jeans, a noise from below startled me. I hopped around off balance, jumpier than a school girl. It was just Minnie stirring around, I thought, and pulled a shirt on over my tank top, and brushed my hair. The sudden humidity had turned it into an unruly mass of curls.

  Back downstairs, I peeked into the office again. Minnie was still sleeping, but the magazine had fallen to the floor, explaining the noise I’d heard. Still uneasy for some reason, or remembering Cora, perhaps, I stood in the door a moment until I saw the upward heave of her chest, then returned to the kitchen.

  I’d seen a plastic raincoat and overshoes in the back entry, and was sure Minnie wouldn’t mind my using them. With a lighthearted laugh, I realized that I’d made my decision. The storm was a perfectly useful excuse. Why should I drive to Rapid City in the rain when I could leave just as easily in the morning? Yes, I’d cook dinner for Minnie as a last treat, and leave tomorrow. And I’d have that talk with Max.

  I took chicken from the freezer to thaw. I could do lemon chicken, and maybe even prepare a nice stir fry for Minnie to fix the next day. Surely, if I had everything chopped and ready in a bowl for her she could swish it around in a pan with some left-over chicken. On the other hand, it might be better to tell Max what to do with it.

  I had just checked the crisper for veggies when I heard a series of sharp barks from outside. Curious, I went to the back door. The yips and howls sounded further off now. I stepped out into the warm drizzle and whistled for the dog. When he didn’t appear and the yowls started again I ran around to the front of the house. The pitiful keening seemed to be coming from the road.