Nest of Vipers (9781101613283) (22 page)

FORTY-SIX

When Byron Lomax ushered Brad, Joe, Wil, and Julio into Pendergast's office after breakfast the following morning, Harry was seated behind his desk with a telegram in his hand.

“Thank you, Byron,” Pendergast said. “That will be all for now.”

“Yes, sir,” Lomax said. He left the office and closed the door behind him.

“Please be seated, gentlemen,” Harry said. The four visitors sat down in comfortable leather chairs.

Harry waved the telegram at Joe and Brad.

“Maybe one of you might explain this to me. It's a telegram from a Colonel Samuel O. Beacham at Fort Laramie. I didn't send him a request, but I have a feeling one of you did.”

“I did,” Brad said. “Last night.”

“Maybe you'd like to explain why you conducted such an enquiry, Brad.”

“Harry, I think Cliff Jameson is behind the horse thieving. A half-breed named Jordan Killdeer ran the operation from his ranch in Cheyenne, but it's my strong hunch that he was, in Joe's words at breakfast this morning, aiding and abetting Killdeer. Recently, I uncovered a deal between Killdeer and Colonel Beacham to buy two hundred head of horses. Stolen horses. Killdeer and his gunmen are all in jail.”

“I know,” Harry said. “I was informed by the Denver police last night that you had brought in several suspected horse thieves and murderers. I have their names right here.”

He picked up a sheet of paper and flourished it as he had the telegram. He put both down and made a steeple out of his fingers. He looked long and thoughtfully at Brad. Then he picked up several sheets of paper that appeared to be covered with typed text.

“It might interest you, Brad, that I had my own suspicions about Cliff Jameson. I'll tell you what I discovered before I read the colonel's reply to your enquiry.”

“Go ahead, Harry,” Brad said. “I'm all ears.”

Harry cleared his throat and set the papers down in front of him. He glanced over them before he spoke.

“Clifford Jameson served in the army. He was cashiered out of the Seventh Cavalry by General Custer himself. It appears that he was selling horses to the Sioux and the Cheyenne. Army horses. He reported them stolen in midnight raids, but an undercover officer caught him in the act.

“Jameson came down here from South Dakota and started a ranch. He wormed his way into the horse breeders association by falsifying his government records. So he attained the high office there through deceit and subterfuge. I was about to send Pete Farnsworth out to his ranch to question him after I got the telegram early this morning.”

“What did Colonel Beacham have to say?” Joe asked.

“I'll read what he put in his telegram,” Harry said.

He picked up the telegram and read the message.

“‘Most esteemed gentlemen of the Denver Detective Agency,' it begins. ‘Per your request, I offer the following. STOP. I was contacted by a Mr. Clifford Jameson about purchasing horses. STOP. He recommended one Jordan Killdeer, of Cheyenne, Wyoming. STOP. I subsequently purchased two hundred head of horses to be delivered to me at Fort Laramie. STOP. I trust you will inform me of the reason for this inquiry. I am at your service. STOP.'”

Harry set the telegram down on the desk.

“It is signed by the colonel and I do owe him an explanation. I assume you have spoken to him before, Brad.”

“Yes, I met him in Cheyenne, briefly, but did not tell him anything about this case.”

“Good. You make a pretty good detective, Brad.”

“I'm not cut out for such work,” Brad said. “But you hired me, so I do my best.”

“How do you plan to proceed, may I ask?”

Brad looked at Joe, then back at Harry.

“I thought Joe and I would ride out to the CJ ranch and have a little talk with Cliff. Joe has a list of the horses and their brands that have been grazing up in Wild Horse Valley. Over three hundred head. Not a one of them carries the CJ brand and none of the ones that were sold to miners and lumberjacks carried that brand. We have witnesses who will testify that Killdeer made the deals and his men carried out his orders.”

“I wrote out a full report for you last night, Harry,” Joe said. “It tells of our investigations, the outlaws we uncovered, and a list of those who will never go to trial.”

“Why is that, Joe?” Harry asked.

“They're all dead, Harry. Brad killed the men who raped and murdered his wife. As you know, we have Killdeer in jail, along with the remainder of his hirelings.”

Harry rose from his chair behind his desk and walked around to the front. He sat on the edge.

“I want you to arrest Cliff Jameson,” he said. “I think we have enough evidence to convict him. As for the stolen horses, we might contact the rightful owners and see if they are willing to sell two hundred head to the colonel.”

He paused and looked at Wilbur.

“And, who, pray tell, is this man who is with you?”

“Harry,” Brad said, “this is Wilbur Campbell. He worked with Jack Trask with the running irons. He stole no horses and he's been a big help to both Joe and me.”

“So, you're one of the Killdeer gang, are you, Mr. Campbell?” Harry said.

“No, sir,” Wil said, “not no more. I been reformed. Least that's what Brad said.”

“He might make a good detective,” Joe said.

“We'll see about that,” Harry said.

“Sometimes, Harry,” Brad said, “it takes one to catch one.”

“What, a thief? You said Wilbur wasn't a thief.”

“A criminal then. He was just a working hand for Killdeer. He's not a real criminal,” Brad said.

“Humph. Well, I'll think about it. Now, you two go out there to the CJ ranch. Bring Jameson back in handcuffs. I want him brought in alive. Do you understand me, Brad?”

“He'll be alive,” Brad said. “Unless . . .”

Harry waved his hands in the air as if to shake off the rest of Brad's sentence.

“Alive,” Harry said. “Or fairly alive. I won't mind it if he comes here with a bruise or two.”

Brad and Joe got up. They started to leave.

“Julio's got his orders from me, Harry. But I'm setting Wilbur here loose. He's in your hands now.”

Before Harry could protest, Joe and Brad left the room, swinging the heavy door open and stalking past Lomax and the secretary at their desks.

“You'll need some training if you're going to work for me as a detective, Wilbur,” Harry said.

“Oh, I'm willin', sir. More than willin'.”

“Do you have any money?”

“Nary a cent, sir,” Wilbur said. He patted both pockets.

“Tell my man Byron Lomax to send in Miss Fitzgerald and I'll see that you have some spending money. You're staying here in the hotel?”

“Yes, sir. Brad got us all rooms.”

“So, he trusts you,” Harry said.

“I reckon. Some.”

“He trusts you, Wilbur, and so will I. But if you ever go back to your sinful ways, I'll have you in the hoosegow so fast your head will spin.”

“Yes, sir,” Wilbur said, “I'm goin' to toe the line.”

Harry turned to Julio.

“Need any money, Julio?”

“Sir, I do not need no money. You have already paid me enough,” Julio said.

“Thanks for your help, then. You and Brad did a good job on this case.”

“And, Joe, he did a good job, too,” Julio said.

Harry ushered them out of the office.

He went back to his desk and looked over the list of brands and number of horses still up in Wild Horse Valley. Joe had left the list on his desk.

He smiled before the door opened and Byron entered with Velma Fitzgerald.

He thought about Brad. He knew he would lose him as soon as he and Joe brought Jameson in. He hated to lose him.

Brad was the best detective he'd ever had working for him. Unconventional, yes, but he brought the criminals in, dead or alive.

And, now that he thought about it, mostly dead.

But few detectives were willing to risk their lives in the pursuit of criminals.

Brad was one who was not afraid to put his own life on the line.

And Brad Storm always got his man.

FORTY-SEVEN

The CJ ranch was north of Denver. Joe had been to it many times since hiring on as a range detective. There was a winding road to the ranch house, a creek lined with trees and horses grazing on lush prairie grass.

“Nice little spread,” Brad said as they rode through the arched gateway with its gates swung open.

“He has better'n two thousand acres,” Joe said.

“Is that Cliff out there by the corral?” Brad asked.

“Yeah, he just forked some hay into the feeding trough. Looks like he came from the barn yonder.”

“Well, let's say good morning to the squire,” Brad said, a sarcastic tone to his voice.

“He sure does look like the country squire,” Joe said. “Polished Justins and all.”

“He's not wearing a gun belt,” Brad said.

“No reason out here. He's got some goats what keeps the snakes out of his yard.”

Brad saw goats roaming around the frame ranch house, nibbling on grass, flowers, and what looked like spilled corn meal.

“Howdy, boys,” Cliff said as Joe and Brad rode up. He set the pitchfork down and leaned against the pole corral. There were three horses inside the square arena, all of them at the hay trough.

“Mornin', Cliff,” Joe said.

Brad said nothing.

“Light down. You got news for me, Joe?”

“Yeah, I do,” Joe said. He and Brad dismounted.

Cliff walked over to them and shook Brad's hand.

“I know you got a man in jail,” Cliff said. “You boys want some coffee, sweet tea?”

“No, we won't be here long, Cliff,” Joe said.

“That Trask. You caught him with the running irons, right?”

“We caught all of them,” Brad said.

“What?” Jameson seemed surprised.

Brad wondered if it was an act, part of the same act he used to deceive his fellow members in the breeders association.

“Yeah, Cliff,” Joe said, “we caught every one of the horse thieves, including Jordan Killdeer.”

Both men watched Cliff's face for any sign of recognition.

“He the boss?” Cliff asked.

“We thought so,” Joe said.

“And now?” Cliff said.

“We know he wasn't the real boss,” Brad said. “Just the straw boss.”

“I don't get you, Storm,” Cliff said.

“I'll make it short then, Cliff,” Brad said. “I'm arresting you. Joe and I are arresting you.”

“What for?”

“For murder, horse thieving, and maybe a whole lot more,” Joe said.

“You're joking, right?”

Cliff looked genuinely puzzled.

Joe reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

Brad grabbed Cliff's arms and pinned them to his side.

“Put your hands behind your back, Cliff,” Joe ordered as he opened both cuffs.

“Damn you. Are you crazy? I ain't done a damned thing. You're making one hell of a mistake, Joe.”

Brad twisted one arm to turn Cliff around. Then he grabbed both wrists and jerked them back, crossed them, and held on tight.

Joe slapped the cuffs on Cliff and closed them tight.

“You got a horse saddled, Cliff?” Brad asked.

“Hell no, I ain't goin' nowhere.”

“He keeps a couple of riding horses in the barn there, Brad,” Joe said.

“Well, we'll just have to saddle a horse for you, Cliff,” Brad said.

He walked off toward the barn while Cliff cursed Joe.

He returned some ten minutes later with a horse that was saddled and ready to ride.

“Help me boost him up into the saddle, will you, Brad?” Joe said as he pushed an unwilling Cliff toward the horse, an old sway-backed mare with healed saddle sores and scars where saddles had worn down the hide and the open wounds had become infected.

“I don't ride this horse no more,” Cliff said. “She's twelve years old if she's a day.”

“You'll ride her to the Denver jail,” Joe said.

Joe and Brad mounted up. Joe picked up the trailing reins to the bay mare and they headed for town.

“You're a traitor to the association,” Cliff said as they rode through the gate. “The members will have me out of jail as soon as they find out what you've done.”

“The breeders will be right happy to get their horses back, Cliff,” Joe said. “And the only way you'll get out of jail will be when you're carried out in a pine box.”

“You miserable, no-good bastard,” Cliff snarled.

But he said no more until they booked him into jail when he again protested his innocence.

Later, at the hotel, Brad and Julio came down from their rooms. They carried their saddlebags, bedrolls, and rifles and went into Harry's offices. They set their belongings down. Lomax was not there, but Velma looked up when they approached her desk.

“I'm heading home, Velma,” Brad said. “Is Harry in? I'd like to say good-bye.”

“Oh, you just missed him. He and Byron are making the rounds of the horse breeders to tell them the case is solved and they can get their horses back.”

“Julio and I are riding up to the valley where all the horses are to drive ours back to my ranch in Leadville.”

“Well, maybe you'll run into Mr. Pendergast up there. He planned to take as many of the ranchers up there that he can. I think Pete Farnsworth is with him and said he knows where that valley is.”

“Maybe we'll see him, then,” Brad said. “If not, tell him I said good-bye.”

“I will surely do that, Mr. Storm. You take care now.”

Julio and Brad rode up to Wild Horse Valley just before dusk.

“We get our horses now, Brad?” Julio asked as they both gazed down at the horses from the top of the road.

“Tomorrow, Julio. Early. One more night up here won't kill us.”

“No. Nothing will kill us,” Julio said.

“That lean-to Joe made is still up. You can bunk in there for the night.”

“You can sleep there, Brad.”

“Make a fire. I'll sleep close to it.”

“You were born in the trees, I think,” Julio said.

“If I wasn't, I should have been.”

They talked around the campfire that night. There was no sign of Harry or any of the ranchers. It didn't matter.

Brad was finished with the Denver Detective Agency and he didn't fancy listening to Harry try to talk him out of it.

He was a cattle rancher and soon he'd have his horses back. Then there were the Brahman cattle. He was anxious to see how the breeding program worked out.

Julio was pining for Pilar, and Brad was still brokenhearted over the death of Felicity.

He would never get over it, he knew. There was just a vacant spot where she had been, a spot that could never be filled by any other woman.

That night, he slept with the patch of blue cloth in his hand. He was sure that one of the stars was winking at him wisely.

That star was either Felicity or her spirit twin.

Just before he closed his eyes to go to sleep, Brad gazed at that one bright star for a long moment.

Then, he winked back.

 

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