Something More (19 page)

“Nothing,” Ima Jane replied with a certainty that immediately seized his attention.

“How do you know?” he challenged, knowing that she couldn't have gotten the information from the handful of customers they'd had that morning.

“Because I talked with Betty at the sheriff's office around ten.” Finished with one chair, she moved on to the next.

His frown deepened. “I never heard the phone ring.”

“That's because
I
called
her
,” Ima Jane explained indifferently. “I thought they might have learned something from the fingerprints they took off her purse. But the partial prints they lifted weren't enough to be identifiable.”

“Too bad.”

“I know.” Ima Jane paused, a troubled look on her face. “I hate to think that anyone we know would have done that.”

“I still say Saddlebags was the culprit.”

“We don't know that, Griff,” she protested, but without conviction.

“Why? Because you didn't see him do it?” he scoffed. “You know as well as I do that it had to be him. That old geezer probably couldn't lift anything heavier than that dead branch. And he disappeared quick enough right afterward, didn't he?”

That wasn't exactly true and Ima Jane knew it. But how could she admit to Griff at this late date that she had discovered Saddlebags hiding in their kitchen—especially when she hadn't said a word about it to the police?

“I still don't want to believe he did it,” she murmured, which was the reason behind her continued silence.

“Whether you want to believe it or not, it had to be Saddlebags,” Griff stated, then threw a look toward the door. “And what does Luke do? Convinces the Sommers girl she'll be safer at the Ten Bar. Talk about convenient. That ranch is the old guy's stomping grounds.”

“He wouldn't hurt her.” Ima Jane clung to the memory of Saddlebags asking about the severity of Angie's injury.

“We'll see.” Griff started for the kitchen, then stopped. “If she was smart, she'd ship her grandfather's remains back to Iowa and hightail it there herself.”

“She can't.”

“Why?”

“All the paperwork isn't done yet,” she explained. “It'll be another couple days before they can release the remains to her.”

Another couple days. Griff absorbed this new piece of information. That wasn't much time. Not much time at all.

 

 

All was quiet when Angie arrived at the Ten Bar. She noticed the empty stock trailer standing next to the barn, a block of wood propping up its tongue. But there was no sign of Luke, or his ranch pickup. She parked the camper next to the light pole and plugged back into the outlet, then changed into a pair of jeans and a cotton top and searched out the topography map of the area.

With it in hand, she set out for the house trailer. She was halfway across the ranch yard when Dulcie scampered out of the trailer to meet her.

“I didn't know you were back. Have you been home long?” She looked stricken by the possibility.

“Not long at all,” Angie assured her and glanced toward the trailer. “Is Luke here?”

“No. He left right after lunch. Tobe, too. Have you eaten? I'll bet Fargo'll fix you something if you haven't.”

“Thanks, but I grabbed a sandwich in town. Is Fargo inside?”

“Yeah. You wanta see him?”

“I would, yes.” Angie smiled at Dulcie's eager expression.

“He's in the kitchen. Come on. I'll take you.”

With Dulcie leading the way at a skipping walk, they went into the trailer and straight to the kitchen. Angie hesitated when she saw that Fargo was on the phone.

Noting her presence, he said into the mouthpiece, “Just a minute. I got company.” He lowered the receiver and held it against his chest. “If you're looking for Luke, he's out fixin' fence this afternoon. Probably won't be back 'til chore time.”

Angie had suspected something of the sort. “Do you think he'd mind if I borrowed one of his horses and went riding this afternoon?”

“That would most likely depend on whether you'd sue if you got bucked off.” There was nothing in his expression to indicate whether he was joking or not.

She smiled anyway. “I won't.”

“Won't what? Get bucked off or sue?”

“I won't do either one.”

“Remember she said that, Dulcie, in case you have to be a witness,” he told the girl, his mouth curving with the barest hint of a smile. Then his gaze was once again directed at Angie. “You can take that flea-bitten gray you rode yesterday with Luke. Jackpot isn't likely to give you any problems. He's out in the home pasture with the other horses. Dulcie can show you where to find him. Take along a bucket of grain from the barn and you shouldn't have any trouble catchin' him.”

“Thanks.” She started to turn away.

“Where you goin' anyway?” he challenged, his eyes narrowing in a sharp study. “If you don't turn up come sundown, it'd be good to know where to start lookin'.”

“I thought I'd ride out to the canyon where the outlaws were captured.”

Fargo eyed her with suspicion. “I thought Luke took you there yesterday.”

“He did, but I'd like to go back and look around some more,” she answered truthfully.

“What's that you got there?” He nodded at the folded map in her hand.

“A map of the terrain showing all the major features. I'm pretty sure I can find my way to the canyon, but I thought I'd take the map along with me, as well as a compass, just in case I get turned around.”

“Good thinking,” he grunted in approval.

After listening quietly through the whole exchange, Dulcie spoke up. “Can I come?”

When Angie hesitated, Fargo volunteered, “You can ride along as far as I'm concerned. I might finally get something done around here with you out of my hair. Course”—he paused, shooting Angie a glance—“it's up to her whether she wants to take you along or not.”

“Can I?” Dulcie's soulfully pleading look made it impossible to refuse.

“Of course you can,” Angie agreed. “I'll be glad for the company.”

“I gotta get my hat.” Beside herself with excitement, Dulcie flew out of the kitchen.

“You best know, we don't have a mount gentle enough for a kid,” Fargo advised. “But Jackpot won't mind ridin' double if you don't.”

“I don't mind,” Angie assured him. “And I'm certain Dulcie won't.”

“Are you kidding? She'd be tickled to death,” he declared, with a grin, then added a bit more soberly, “it'll be good for her to spend some time with a woman, too.” Turning to the side, he raised the phone to his ear, signaling an end to their conversation. “Sorry I kept you waitin' so long,” he said into the receiver. “Now, what was that you were sayin'?”

A
pair of skinny, kitten-scratched arms tightened their wrap around Angie's waist as the flea-bitten gray gelding negotiated the sloping trail down to the canyon's mouth. The air was still, almost eerily so, and the sun was hot and strong in the sky.

At the bottom of the slope, the ground leveled out, and the gray horse automatically broke into a jogging trot, jostling Dulcie. With a slight check on the reins, Angie slowed the horse to a walk.

“This is the place, Dulcie.” She cast a sideways glance over her shoulder at the girl. “What do you say we get down and walk around a bit?”

“Okay.”

Kicking free of the stirrups, Angie swung a leg over the saddlehorn and slid to the ground, then reached back and lifted Dulcie off the horse. She gathered up the loose reins and let her glance travel over the empty scene, then come to a stop on the girl, noting the vague disappointment in her expression.

“Have you ever been here before, Dulcie?” she asked, suspecting this was her first visit.

“No.” And she didn't appear to find anything particularly special about it.

Seeking to stimulate Dulcie's imagination, Angie attempted to set the scene for her. “According to the story Luke told me, the posse came charging off that hill we just came down and surprised the outlaws.”

“That hill?” Dulcie turned rounded eyes on the sloping trail that had seemed so steep and scary to her.

“That hill,” Angie confirmed. “There were about a dozen riders in the posse, racing down it, yelling and shooting. Can't you just hear the thunder of all the pounding hooves?”

“It must have been loud, huh?”

“Very loud. Now, the outlaws tried to reach the safety of those rocks over there.” She pointed to the tumble of boulders at the canyon's entrance. “But Ike Wilson was the only one who made it.”

“Is that where he hid the gold?” Dulcie wondered, all big eyed with hope.

“I'm afraid not.” Angie smiled at the girl's bubble-burst reaction. “If he had, the posse would have found it right away. No, they had already hidden the gold somewhere else before they got here.”

“Oh.” Dulcie immediately lost interest in the entire subject and aimed a finger at a patch of wildflowers growing inside the canyon mouth. “Can I go pick some flowers?”

“Sure. Go ahead.” The instant the permission was granted, Dulcie scampered off. Angie called after her, cautioning, “Just pay attention and watch for snakes.”

“I will.” But she slowed her pace only slightly.

Angie watched her for a moment, then pulled the topo map from her pocket and unfolded it. The ranch site was easy to find, but the canyon entrance proved to be more difficult.

Starting from the ranch, she tried plotting out all the jigs and jogs the terrain had forced her to make to reach this place. The unfolded map was too unwieldy to hold with one hand and trace out the course with the other.

When she started to spread it out on the ground, Angie noticed a fallen boulder lying on its side, offering her a natural tabletop. She checked on Dulcie to make sure she hadn't wandered out of sight and spotted the pale-haired girl crouched among the wildflowers.

“I'll be over here, Dulcie,” Angie called to the girl and set out for the fallen boulder, leading the horse.

Hurriedly Dulcie broke off two more stems and added them to the small bouquet clutched in her other hand, then raced to join Angie. As she laid the map on the boulder, Angie smoothed out its many creases.

“What's that you got?” Rising on tiptoes, Dulcie strained to peer over her arm.

“A map. Here's—”

A shadow suddenly fell across the rock. Dulcie gasped in alarm. At the same instant, the flea-bitten gray snorted and pulled back on the reins. Angie barely managed to catch a glimpse of an old man in a floppy-brimmed hat and baggy clothes before she was diverted by the shying horse, her own pulse accelerating at a mad rate.

“What're you doin' here?” the old man growled when she turned to check the startled horse.

The sound of a human voice, as much as her own efforts, worked to settle the horse. Yet it remained alert, ears pricked at the stranger. Reassured that her mount wasn't going to bolt for home, Angie squared around to face the old man looming before her.

His hat was pulled low, completely shading his features. The effect added to the menace of his cold stare and accented the gaunt hollows of his cheeks, partially hidden by a dirty and woolly beard. There was nothing remotely friendly about him, and the crooked set of his nose did little to alter that impression. Clearly it had been badly broken at one time and improperly reset.

Her first instinct was to back away from him, but she forced herself to stand her ground. “You startled us. I had no idea anyone was around.” Angie flashed him a nervous smile and guessed his identity at once. “You must be Amos Aloysius Smith. Luke told me about you. I'm Angie Sommers—”

“I know who you are. Now, git out!” He flung a bony hand, gesturing for her to leave. Dulcie squeaked in alarm and ducked behind Angie.

For Dulcie's sake alone, Angie refused to be intimidated by the old man's rudeness. “We will in a while.” She reached back and laid a reassuring hand on the girl's arm, then once again straightened out the map. “First I want to locate this canyon on the map. Maybe you can help me—”

“That map won't do you no good. You ain't never gonna find that gold. Never. You hear?” His false teeth clicked loose on that challenging note.

“I hear,” Angie replied evenly. “But it's the canyon I'm trying to find right now. If—”

“I said t' git!” He hobbled a step closer. “Go back where you come from. You don't belong here.”

Dulcie tugged at her hand, pulling her toward the horse. “Let's go home, Angie.” Her voice trembled on a whisper.

“He isn't going to hurt us, honey.” She sounded more confident than she felt.

“I'm warnin' ya for the last time. Don't go lookin' for that gold, or you'll live t' regret it. I promise you that.”

 

 

Sweaty and tired from an afternoon of mending fence, Luke dismounted at the corral and slipped the water jug off the saddlehorn. He gave it a testing shake, but there wasn't enough in the bottom to make a sloshing sound, let alone to wet his parched mouth.

He passed the buckskin's reins to Tobe. “As soon as you get the horses turned out, start on the chores.”

“Are you headed for the trailer?” Tobe guessed when Luke moved away.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Bring me back some water when you come, will ya? I drank all of mine.” Tobe tossed Luke his empty jug.

“Sure.” He struck out for the trailer, carrying both water jugs by their straps.

A half dozen steps from the corral, his glance strayed to the pickup camper parked next to the yard light. Its door was hooked open, leaving the inner screen to keep out the ever-present flies. A shadowy figure moved beyond the mesh, drawing Luke's attention.

It was a full second before Luke realized the shape was too tall and too stout to belong to Angie. The instant that fact registered, he changed course to investigate, his stride lengthening.

He jerked open the screen door, and Fargo whirled around, looking equally startled to see Luke. “What are you doing in there?” Luke demanded, eyes narrowing to dart past the one-armed man. “Where's Angie?”

“Don't be sneakin' up on a man like that, Luke. You dang near scared me to death,” Fargo grumbled and made his way along the narrow passage to the door, his bulk blocking Luke's view of the interior.

“Where's Angie?” Luke repeated, certain she wasn't inside or she would have said something.

“Out ridin'. She took Dulcie with her. They should be comin' back any time now.”

“Then what're you doing in her camper?” Luke didn't like what he was thinking.

“I thought I saw Saddlebags prowlin' around it. By the time I got from the trailer to here, there was no sign of him. The minute I saw she went off and left the door open, I decided I'd better check and see if he'd ransacked the place again.” He paused and shrugged, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. “I can't be sure, of course, but it don't look like anything's been disturbed.”

“Saddlebags, huh?” Luke scanned the area beyond the ruins, not sure whether he believed the old cowhand. “What makes you so sure it was him?”

Fargo drew his head back in surprise, one eyebrow shooting up in question. “Who else could it be?” he reasoned. “I'm not so sure you did the right thing bringin' her out here, Luke. She's right in that crazy old man's backyard now.”

“And she's in mine, too.” He caught the rhythmic beat of cantering hooves and turned to see Angie riding into the ranch yard. He waved, motioning for her to come directly to the camper. She swung the horse toward them and said something to the girl riding behind her.

“What's wrong?” she asked, her glance running to Luke in concern when he stepped up to lift Dulcie down.

Without elaboration, Luke related the story Fargo had told him. Angie listened in confusion.

“It couldn't have been Saddlebags.” She swung out of the saddle. “Nobody can be in two places at once, and we just saw him at the canyon.”

“Are you sure it was him?” Fargo challenged.

“I'm positive. We talked to him,” Angie stated, then told them about the encounter.

“He scared me,” Dulcie inserted in a small voice when Angie finished.

“He didn't mean us any harm,” Angie said, as much to assure Luke and Fargo as Dulcie.

Fargo harrumphed in disbelief. “Not this time, maybe, but it sure sounds like he's got plans for you in the future.” He turned and spat a stream of yellow tobacco juice off to the side.

“I know that's the way it sounded,” Angie admitted, but other than an initial feeling of alarm when this dirty and scrawny old man had popped up out of nowhere, she hadn't been the least bit frightened of Saddlebags. Perhaps she should have been but she was oddly glad that she hadn't. “As soon as he issued his warning, he turned and scrambled back among the boulders and disappeared.”

“Warning,” Fargo scoffed at the word. “Is that what you call it? Sounded more like a threat to me.”

“You don't plan on taking Saddlebags's advice, do you?” Accusation rifled through the coolness of Luke's voice.

“And leave, you mean? How can I?” Angie dodged the question. “I can't finalize the arrangements for my grandfather's burial until all the paperwork is finished, and the sheriff told me this morning that it wouldn't be ready for a couple more days.”

“Did you mention that to Saddlebags?” Amusement etched dry lines around Luke's mouth.

“He didn't give me a chance.” The gray horse nosed her shoulder. Absently Angie reached back and stroked the gelding's velvet-soft muzzle while turning a puzzled glance on Fargo. “If it wasn't Saddlebags you saw prowling around my camper, who could it have been?”

Momentarily caught at a loss for an answer, Fargo scratched his head and fumbled around for a reply. “Maybe nobody was prowlin' around your camper. Maybe I was just seein' things. I don't know. It's for sure nothin' looks disturbed inside.” He waved a hand toward the camper. “Course you need to check that yourself.”

“Of course,” she agreed but made no move toward the door.

“Well”—Fargo dragged in a long breath and bounced a glance off Luke's face—“don't look like there's no point in hangin' around here any longer. I'd best get back to the house and check on supper.”

“Good idea. Take these.” Luke tossed him the empty water jugs. “I'll be up directly.”

“Luke, can Angie eat supper with us?” Dulcie lifted her face to him, eager and hopeful, as Fargo ambled toward the trailer house.

“I was just about to invite her.”

That was all Dulcie needed to hear. She turned beseeching eyes on Angie. “You will come, won't you?”

The girl's earnest plea would have been impossible to refuse even if Angie had been so inclined. “I'd love to.”

For Luke, the sight of her smile both soothed and stirred. Seeking to break the effect of it, he took the reins from Angie's hand and held them out to Dulcie. “Here. Take Jackpot to the barn and tell your brother to take care of him.”

A shocked Dulcie stared first at the reins, then at the mammoth-looking horse, then at Luke. “Me?”

Her expression brought home the fact that she'd had little actual contact with the ranch stock despite the years she'd spent around them, something that would never have happened with a more assertive child. But Dulcie was too reticent to make demands, or even complain.

“Why not? There's nothing to it,” he assured her, his manner deliberately offhand. “Just start walking to the barn and Jackpot will follow.”

Encouraged by his answer, she took the reins from him and backed up until the reins were pulled taut and the horse's nose was stretched toward her. She stopped and sent a half-fearful glance at Luke. He clicked his tongue to the gelding and the gray stepped forward. The instant the reins went slack, a look of panic flashed in her eyes. She hurriedly backed up another step, but the horse kept coming toward her.

“That's good.” Luke nodded in approval. “Now, just turn around and head for the barn. He'll follow.”

Although clearly not certain she liked the idea of turning her back to the big horse, she did as Luke suggested, then snuck a worried glance over her shoulder. Her eyes rounded in amazement when she saw the gelding plodding quietly behind her. She threw a quick smile at Luke, her whole face lighting up with delight at her accomplishment.