The Night Visitor (19 page)

She rubbed the surface of the glistening flint with the tip of her finger. “I'll book a flight to Washington tonight. I imagine they'll want to keep the artifact for at least a few weeks.”

It seemed that the issue was settled. It was not.

Like a striking rattlesnake, Nathan McFain scooped the flint blade off the table.

The scientists were wide-eyed in astonishment at this impertinence.

The rancher was unrepentant in the heat of their harsh gazes. “You people seem to have forgot something,” he said. “Everything you dig up on my land is
mine.
This thing ain't goin' noplace without my say-so.” He thrust a thumb at his chest. “I'll decide what's to be done with this here flint rock,” he made a sweeping gesture to indicate the excavation, “and with every damn piece of bone you dig up.”

There was a dead silence around the card table.

Nathan McFain turned and stalked out of the tent, leaving the makeshift door flapping behind him. Vanessa gave the scientists an apologetic look, then followed her father. She evidently hoped to talk some reason into the cantankerous old man.

Robert Newton, the quiet one, was first to find his voice.
“One is simply astonished at such uncivilized behavior. We have been intimidated by a fat old cowboy with tobacco stains on his beard!”

Cordell York, though greatly annoyed that his singular discovery had been whisked away in such an unseemly fashion, appeared somewhat bemused by the incident. And he never missed an opportunity to needle a colleague. “Well now, Moses… I had thought
you
were managing this excavation. But it seems that Mr. McFain is pulling the strings in this little puppet show.”

Moses Silver was choking with rage. “That loony old bastard… he's a fool. A menace. A cad. A blackguard… a villain …” The old man was fairly gasping for additional epithets.

Delia Silver's complexion was gray.

Knowing it would annoy Moses Silver, Cordell York pointed out the bright side. “Well, we do have our data.”

Moses slammed his clenched fist onto the flimsy folding table, which almost collapsed under the heavy blow. The paleontologist spat his words out like bullets. “Data? Need I remind you that we don't have even a single photograph of the isolated artifact.” The scientists exchanged uneasy glances. It was true. There were dozens of shots of the blade
in situ.
All in various states of exposure, half-hidden under the mammoth's mandible. But not one close-up photograph had been made after it had been removed. There had seemed time enough for the technical shots. And then Nathan McFain had rudely asserted his privilege. If the rancher managed to lose the precious flint blade… but of course that was absurd. How could even a moron lose such a thing?

Delia patted her father's hand in a motherly fashion. “I'll talk to Mr. McFain after he's had time to consider the implications of what he's done. It'll all work out.” She smiled reassuringly. “You'll see.”

Moses sighed, but he knew his daughter. One way or another, Delia would damn well get the flint blade back.

Moon watched the scene with more than a little interest. When word of tonight's discovery got out, the tribal council's concerns about the precise location of the land boundary
would be escalated to an all-out crisis. There would be shouting and fist-shaking at the council meetings. Lawyers would be sent to do battle. The policeman melded into the shadows beside Ralph Briggs and Horace Flye, who were whispering excitedly. An unlikely pair to have a conversation, he thought.

“Well,” Flye murmured, “I never thought I'd see such a big rhubarb over a little piece a flint.”

“The rhubarb,” Briggs observed dryly, “has barely begun.”

He was right.

Three days had passed since the late-night show under the big tent. It was for no small reason that Charlie Moon was in high spirits—he had an invitation for supper. From the lady of the house. And Nathan McFain's pickup was nowhere to be seen. The Ute policeman parked his SUPD Blazer by Vanessa McFain's van. His early arrival had gone unnoticed, so instead of knocking on the ranch house door the Ute policeman made a detour around the barn. He stood, hands in his jacket pockets, and looked across the pasture toward the hulking tent over the excavation. It was possible that Nathan had made his peace with the academics by now. But not likely. The old rancher was mule-stubborn. And Moses Silver was struck from the same mold.

Shadows were growing long and indistinct; the twilight sky was a hard gunmetal blue. To the west, a long blade-shaped cloud was tinged with scarlet. A red-tailed hawk circled majestically over the bluff, alert for the unwary rodent.

Moon turned his attention to the pond, where some progress had been made. The curved blade of the 'dozer was pushed up against the loose dirt of the unfinished dam, which was now knee-high. Beugmann, Nathan's hired hand, had evidently finished his day's work; he'd be having supper in his cabin. This thought reminded Moon of the reason for his visit. Like her mother before her, Vanessa was a good hand with a black iron skillet. Maybe she'd whipped up some fried chicken. Or fried catfish. Or fried something else. His mouth watered at these savory prospects. He turned and retraced his steps around the barn.

The Ute policeman was heading toward the ranch house's
long front porch when a pair of headlights illuminated the barren yard. He waited while a small white Buick pulled up near his dusty Blazer. A trim-looking young woman got out. She wore a conservative dark skirt. Matching dark jacket. White blouse. With a neatly looped string tie. Dark, sensible shoes. In her right hand, she toted a leather briefcase cunningly designed to pass as a large, flat purse. She was trying very hard to look like a prosperous Avon lady. But this one wasn't peddling perfume. Might as well hang a sign around her neck advertising
GUN FOR HIRE.

But as soon as she spoke, he began to have second thoughts. Her voice was… well… sweet. And very feminine. Just like the rest of her.

“Officer Moon, I presume?” She extended a small hand. “I'm Claudia Cleaver. Law clerk. With Barnes, Barnes, and Pettinger. Of Durango.”

He accepted the hand and tipped his hat. “I'm Moon. Lawman. With Severo, Chavez, and Bignight. Of Ignacio.”

She laughed. “I was told you'd be here.”

“And who told you that?”

“Your boss. Roy Severo thought I might want a police escort, said you'd headed out to the McFain ranch.”

“You need a police escort to pay a visit to Nathan McFain?” He could guess why.

She jutted her round, dimpled chin toward the ranch house, now comfortably shrouded in twilight. “I am told Mr. McFain can be… somewhat ill-tempered.”

“Ill-tempered,” Moon said with a wide grin. “I think that's the nicest thing I've ever heard said about him. But why've you come all the way out here to see Nathan?”

“The court has responded affirmatively to our request for an injunction on the land boundary question. The official decision will be mailed to Mr. McFain tomorrow, but my firm thought it in the Southern Ute tribe's best interests to deliver a copy immediately.”

“Won't his lawyer call him about the outcome?”

She smiled as if mildly amused. “Mr. McFain refused to be represented by an attorney at the hearing. And he didn't even show up himself, which didn't help his case any.”

Moon wasn't surprised. Lawyers cost money that the tightfisted old rancher wasn't about to part with—and Nathan was stubborn enough to snub the court's proceedings. He tapped on the door and heard the light click of Vanessa's boot heels on the pine floor. She opened the door wide, her smile at Moon quickly shifting into an expression of mild surprise when she noticed the small woman in the dark suit.
Has he brought a girlfriend?

“This is Ms. Claudia Cleaver. She has some business with your father.” Now this should be fun to watch.

The woman gave the tall policeman an appraising look. He didn't look quite so scary in the light. “Actually, it's
Miss
Cleaver.”

Vanessa stood to one side and motioned with a jerk of her head. “Dad's in the parlor.”

Miss Cleaver stepped inside quickly—as if fearing the door might be shut on her—and exchanged strained smiles with Vanessa. Like a black moth, she headed directly toward the light at the end of the hallway.

Moon watched her trajectory.
Smack toward the bull's-eye.

Vanessa gave Moon a raised-eyebrow look and whispered: “Where'd you find
her?”

He shrugged innocently. “She just followed me home.”

Nathan McFain was standing in front of the wide fireplace, admiring the object he'd placed dead-center on the mantelpiece. In a plain wooden frame—which had a fluffy cotton backing—was the flint skinning knife that had been found under the jaw of his mammoth.

“Excuse me.”

He turned slowly, gave her the once-over. And frowned. A woman wearing a man's tie. And a purse that didn't look like a purse. This sure looked like bad news on wheels.

She smiled sweetly. “Mr. Nathan McFain, I presume.”

He nodded. “An' who're you?”

“Claudia Cleaver.”

Nathan, who was no fool, narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the visitor. “You a lawyer?”

She laughed as if this assumption was terribly funny. “Dear me, no.”
Not for another year or so, Pops.
The law clerk did
a complete turn, hugging the purse-briefcase to her chest. “Oh, I just love what you've done with this room. It's so… so inviting. It makes a person feel so
welcome.”

“Uh, well,” Nathan said as he sat down in one of the massive chairs, “why don't you have a seat.” He was sure he had this one figured. Claudia was a city gal who wanted herself a cabin for a few days of rest and relaxation. Probably came down to see the mammoth bones.

Ignoring this offer, she leaned on his chair. “Have you lived here all your life, Mr. McFain?”

Somewhat befuddled by her closeness, he nodded. “Sure have. It was my father's land, and his father's before him.” He sniffed. She smelled pretty good. Like she'd just had a bath.

Miss Cleaver gave him a full dose of the big-eye. “I'd love to live in such a charming old house.”

The old man's mouth curled into a silly grin. “I might be willin' to take in a boarder. If she was a good cook.”

She laughed, as if he were the funniest man alive. And sat lightly on the arm of his chair.

“Charlie,” Vanessa whispered, “I think she's going to get in his lap!”

Moon nodded. “Maybe they'd like some privacy.” Vanessa elbowed him in the ribs.

Claudia Cleaver leaned an inch closer to the old man. “I understand you rent cabins?”

“I sure do. By the day or the week. Gas heat in every one of 'em. But I only got a few left, what with all the excitement about the excavation.” He was about to add that he could rent her a room in the main house if she liked, but noticed the accusing look his daughter was aiming at him. Damn.

“An excavation,” Claudia said, “how exciting. What, exactly, are you excavating?”

Moon was filled with admiration. Miss Cleaver was
good.

Nathan tried to sound nonchalant. “Oh… a great big mammoth. Died ages ago.”

She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my—isn't that like an elephant?”

McFain nodded affably. “Sure is. Lotsa folks want to see
them old bones. Would you like to see 'em? I could take you over to the tent right now …” He made a motion to get up.

To restrain him, Claudia reached out to touch his arm. “No, not just this minute.”

“Then maybe I… maybe Vannie could fix you a cuppa coffee.”

She leaned closer to him. “Nathan… may I call you Nathan?”

“Why, sure.” He blushed. “Hell, it's my name.”

“Nathan,” she whispered, “you're very sweet. I'd really just like to sit here for a moment. And talk with you.”

He swallowed hard, and nodded. He peered at his daughter and the tall Ute policeman. “Uh… Vannie, maybe you and Charlie could… uh… go into the kitchen and whip us up some coffee and cookies and whatnot.”
And take your time.

Vanessa hesitated. Moon put his hand on her waist and guided her into the large kitchen. She leaned against a heavy table and folded her arms. “Charlie, what's going on?”

He glanced toward the parlor door. “I do think your dad's found himself a girlfriend.”

Her eyes narrowed. “He's old enough to be her—”

“Boyfriend.” He lifted the lid on a steaming pot. “What's for supper?”

She shrugged. “Oh… tossed salad. Com on the cob. Garden peas. New potatoes. Cornbread.”

He gave the oven a longing look. “What else?”

She seemed amused. “With all those vegetables, what else do you need?”

“Meat.”

“You could do quite well without so much animal flesh in your diet, Charlie.”

Animal flesh? He frowned at the back of her head. A woman shouldn't kid around about stuff like that. Especially a woman raised on a beef ranch.

Vanessa was peeking around the parlor door. “It's positively embarrassing to see Daddy drooling over that woman. And at his age …”

“I wouldn't worry about it.” It was likely to be a very short romance.

*  *  *

Miss Cleaver whispered. Her breath was warm on his ear. “Nathan?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to give you something.”

“Eh?”

Claudia leaned forward. “Here it is,” she said. And kissed his forehead.

The old man blushed; he felt his breath coming in short gasps.

Her duty done, Claudia got up. And walked briskly down the short hallway to the door. And let herself out.

Nathan McFain sat there for a full minute, staring dumbly at the door. And then noticed the manila envelope in his hand. It was long. Legal size …