MYSTERY OF THE DIAMOND D
by Goldie
"Nice day for a funeral," said Hannibal Heyes, nodding at the open grave in the cemetery he and his partner, Kid Curry, were passing on horseback.
It was a lovely day for a funeral, actually. The morning's hint of rain had disappeared with the clouds that brought it, and in its place the sun shone brightly on Heyes and the Kid. The town at the end of their journey, Cranston, was a mere mile ahead of them and they were enjoying a leisurely ride through a beautiful spring day.
"Someone else thinks so, too," replied the Kid, pointing ahead of them to what appeared to be a funeral entourage headed for the cemetery. Heyes looked toward Cranston and saw a hearse being pulled in their direction by four beautiful matching steppers. Following the hearse was a very large number of people on horseback or in wagons. Heyes noticed the Sheriff and a couple of deputies, also. Everyone was wearing black, except the lawmen, who were in uniform. Rather a large funeral.
"Haven't seen that many mourners at a funeral since the War," Heyes observed. "And back then there was usually more than one corpse. Must've been an important man."
As the hearse approached them, they removed their hats in deference to the unknown deceased. The next wagon was an ornate affair. This was the coach that usually held the family, but Heyes and Curry could see only one woman inside. Although she was wearing a veil over her face, she was not in black. The funeral procession passed them as they rode slowly into town, hats covering their hearts. Heyes was probably right about the importance of the departed. People from all walks of life were traveling in the procession – people who were elegantly dressed and people who looked like they barely owned a "Sunday suit."
After all the mourners had passed them, Heyes looked back to see the procession members beginning to gather around the open grave. "You want to join them, Kid?" asked Heyes, half-jokingly.
"As much fun as that sounds like, I think I'd rather have a beer," replied the Kid.
They continued on into Cranston and turned down the main street. They had heard that it was a large bustling town, but today it appeared to be almost a ghost town. No people were on the street and no horses were tied at any of the posts. The funeral had apparently attracted just about everyone around. Heyes and Curry reined up at the closest saloon and walked inside. They were happy to see one bartender attending, although there were no patrons for him to attend to.
In a minute, Heyes and his partner had quenched their thirst and wiped the foam from their lips. The bartender was clearly happy to see them. "Passing through?" he asked them.
"No," said Heyes. "We're here for a job. Hired on for a couple of months at a nearby ranch. Couple more beers, please."
"Oh, yeah?" said the bartender, as he turned back to draw two more drinks. "Which one? I didn't know any of the ranches around here were hiring, due to the drought. That rain we had this morning is the first in months!"
"Diamond D," said Heyes. "Understand it's the biggest ranch around."
"Not just the biggest around here, but one of the biggest in the state," said the bartender. "Didn't know they were hiring on, though. What do they want you fellas for?"
Not willing to divulge that particular piece of information, Heyes merely said, "The owner is a friend of a friend, and he sent for us."
The bartender looked genuinely concerned. "Well, if Ambrose Keitner hired you, you might as well just go back where you came from. He died yesterday."
Heyes and the Kid exchanged a look. The Kid hooked a thumb toward the saloon door. "That wouldn't be Mr. Keitner's funeral we saw heading for the cemetery, would it?"
"The same," answered the bartender. "Mr. Keitner's been feeling poorly the last couple of months, and yesterday he just upped and died. Doc said a heart attack. Some people say otherwise."
Heyes was frustrated by the news that the jobs they had ridden so long to get to were suddenly non-existent, but this last sentence piqued his interest. "What do you mean – otherwise? You're talking about the man who hired us to work for him."
"Well . . ." said the bartender slowly while polishing the marble top of the bar. "Not everyone thinks he died of a heart attack, is all."
"Tell us more." Kid Curry assumed his "gunfighter" face. This was the look that implied that he would not take no for an answer.
The bartender was not immune. "Mr. Keitner was a very powerful man. He owned most of the land around here and his ranch holds title to many thousand head. Prime beef cattle. He was rich, too. A man like that can't help but make enemies, I suppose."
"Are you saying he was murdered?" Heyes asked, surprised.
"I've said enough. I'm just saying that there are people out there who might benefit from him being dead, that's all I'm saying." It was clear the bartender would tell them nothing else. He walked to the end of the bar and commenced washing glassware that was already washed.
Heyes nodded to the Kid, implying they should drink up and leave. Once outside, they grabbed their horses' reins and walked in dead silence to the closest hotel. Instead of entering the hotel, they sat on the bench outside. Both wore worried expressions.
"How much money you got?" asked Heyes, fishing through his own pockets.
"A nickel. I paid for the beers, remember."
"Me, too, plus a dollar. With your nickel, that makes one dollar and ten cents." They weren't looking at each other. Heyes sighed.
The Kid slumped down on the bench and assumed a defeated position. His voice reflected the same attitude. "Dead. The man is dead. The man who is supposed to pay us is dead. What kind of a selfish thing is that to go and do? – turn up dead when you hired guys?"
Heyes's eyes snuck over and assumed the I-can't-believe-he's-my-partner look.
The Kid continued ranting. "We must have the worst luck in the world. What exactly are we supposed to do now? You tell me, Heyes! What are we supposed to do? Go hit the widow up for money? 'Hey, lady, I know your husband's dead, but we're broke and . . .'"
"Wait a minute, Kid! I think you have something there!"
"What?" The Kid was baffled.
Heyes patted him on the shoulder. "Every once in a while, you come up with something brilliant. Or I do, anyhow, thanks to you. That's exactly what we'll do – we'll go see the widow. We'll tell her that her husband hired us and ask if she wants us to work for her instead of him. Maybe she still does, you know. Maybe she knows something about the business. She probably knows what's going on."
"Now?"
"No, of course not! We'll wait until tomorrow and then make a visit to her. We'll have to stay the night in the hotel, Kid, but we've got a dollar so that should do it."
Both were heartened with this idea and strolled up to the front desk of the hotel with smiles. The clerk on duty asked if he could help them.
"A room for the two of us for tonight, please," said Heyes, preparing to sign the register.
"That will be two dollars," said the desk clerk.
Without missing a beat, Heyes asked, "How much for just one of us?"
"One dollar," said the desk clerk suspiciously.
"I'll take it," said Heyes. "My friend here will be staying somewhere else." Heyes didn't dare look at his partner, but he knew the Kid was glaring at him. "Now, my good man, where can we find a good steak restaurant?"
"Café next door. Steak and all the trimmings for twenty cents."
Heyes cleared his throat. "Do you suppose I could get the steak trimming-free for a dime?"
A few hours later, after the sun had set, Heyes lowered a sheet out the window of his second-floor hotel room and the Kid climbed up to the room.
"Nice to see you again, Kid."
The Kid was not in a good frame of mind. "Yeah, well, next time we only have enough money for one person in a room, that person's going to be me. 'How much for just one of us?' Sometimes you're lucky I don't shoot you, Heyes."
"At least you got to eat, Kid. And you've got a room now, too, so stop complaining."
"Oh, that reminds me." The Kid reached in his jacket pockets. "I brought these for you." He fished out a sandwich and an apple. "I found the fruit in a bowl in the lobby and saved some of my bread and meat for you."
The next morning, completely penniless Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry knocked at the front door of the large ranch house where they had been told Mr. Keitner's widow resided. A bespectacled young man holding a bunch of file papers answered the door. "You can leave the condolence gift in the parlor," he said, indicating the next room, which was filled with flowers in vases and other things people donate to new widows.
"Uh, no," stammered Heyes, "we're actually here to see Mrs. Keitner." When the man raised his eyebrows, Heyes continued, "on business. Mr. Keitner hired us for a job. We figure Mrs. Keitner wants to know we're here to do that job."
"Oh! Are you the two men Mr. McCready recommended?"
"Yes. Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones. We arrived in town yesterday and found out about Mr. Keitner's passing." Heyes removed his hat and hit his partner in the arm as a sign to remove his, too. "Our condolences. Are you his son?"
The man was taken aback. "No, hardly." He seemed a bit hesitant but was pleasant enough. "Gentlemen, I'm sure you can appreciate that this is a bad time for Mrs. Keitner, new widow and all." He caught the glance that Heyes and Curry shot at each other, and he didn't miss their stomachs growling, either. "Mr. Keitner was looking for . . . excuse me, but have either of you eaten this morning?"
Heyes was embarrassed, a rare occurrence. "Oh, don't worry . . . it doesn't . . . we don't . . ."
"No!" said the Kid. "We were counting on this job for money." Heyes shot him that I-can't-believe-he's-my-partner look again, but the Kid ignored it.
The man got animated. "We certainly owe you something for the trouble you went to," he said, while herding them toward the back of the house. "Let's head to the summer kitchen and see if the cook can find something for you to eat." He smiled at the appreciation in the Kid's eyes. On the way he held out his hand and introduced himself. "I'm Aaron Johnston, Mr. Keitner's personal secretary. Mr. Keitner and I decided to hire a couple of men for the job that Mr. McCready no doubt described to you. But under the circumstances I'm not sure that Mrs. Keitner is going to want to . . . Here we are. Mrs. Cleavor, will you see that these two men are fed breakfast? Then send them into the library afterward. Gentlemen, I leave you in the capable hands of our cook and I'll see if I can get Mrs. Keitner to meet with you after you've eaten." And he left.
Mrs. Cleavor, a simple heavyset woman, indicated their places at the table and turned to the stove to begin cooking breakfast for them. Heyes and Curry looked at each other in great wonder. What a fabulous place this was! Good hospitality, free breakfast! They looked around. The kitchen was quite large and held two stoves. The rooms they had walked through were all quite large, actually. This was a house for a family who had a number of servants. A ranch with servants! They had seldom run into this kind of wealth before. Heyes began planning how he might be able to entice Mrs. Keitner to hire them even though her husband was dead.
Half an hour later, they were sitting with Mr. Johnston in the overstuffed library chairs, awaiting Mrs. Keitner herself. They were small-talking, and Mr. Johnston implied that Mrs. Keitner might not be interested in hiring them for a job that her husband had initiated. Before long, they knew Mrs. Keitner was about to enter the room by a sudden strong smell of perfume. Very pleasant, even intoxicating, perfume.
All three men stood up as the lady herself entered the library. She was short but very, very beautiful. Her body was plump in all the right places and slim in all the right places. Her long golden locks embraced gentle curls and were pulled back by a tortoise-shell comb with feathers in it. Her lips were plump and very red and her eyelashes were very long. Her eyes were a deep blue, like the Kid's, but unlike his, her eyes held a little smile in them. Her nose was short and pert, and her cheeks were rouged. And she was smiling. She sashayed as she walked, hips gently flowing back and forth, and tiny feet showing beneath the ample skirts. All in all, the effect she had on Heyes and Curry was of a stunning beauty. But the most dazzling thing of all was her attire. Unlike most new widows, her only concession to the tradition of wearing black was the shawl hanging loosely around her exposed shoulders. Her dress was bright yellow! And she was wearing hoops, a Southern style not popular in the rugged West! Heyes and Curry knew instantly that she was from the Deep South, even before she spoke. And when she opened her mouth, their suspicions were confirmed.
"Gentlemen," she said in acknowledgement of her guests. Her speech was striking, with a clear strong Southern accent. Her single word sounded like "jay – un – tul – may – un." They bowed to her. Heyes was amused. He glanced at his partner, and realized that Kid Curry was obviously completely taken with her. This amused Heyes even more. Amity Keitner was a radiant thing of complete beauty. Heyes had at first found it difficult to take his eyes off her, too, but he realized the Kid was finding it downright impossible. The Kid was completely smitten.
They were formally introduced by Aaron Johnston. "Please be seated, gentlemen," said the lady. For lady she was, every inch. Heyes watched in amusement as he tried to imagine how she could possibly sit down with the large hoop skirt and was mildly disappointed when she managed it quite gracefully. The Kid watched every move she made in total admiration.
"Mr. Johnston," she bowed in his direction and lowered her eyes before batting her eyelashes for the benefit of her visitors, "has informed me that you gentlemen have a contract for positions with this ranch, thanks to my late husband."
"No, ma'am," said Heyes gently. "Not a contract. We and your husband have – had – a mutual friend named McCready. Mr. McCready informed us that the Diamond D was having continuing problems with cattle rustlers recently and your husband was looking for some capable men to put a stop to it. Mr. McCready recommended us to your husband because we have found ourselves in similar lines of work before. So your husband sent for us. By the way, Mrs. Keitner, please accept our sincere condolences on the loss of your husband."
Amity Keitner blushed and looked down, hiding her face partially behind the bouquet of flowers she was carrying. When she looked up again, she was still smiling, but less so. "Thank you, Mr. Smith. If has been hard these last . . . few . . . You are quite correct in your assumption that our little ranch has been losing stock to rustlers. We have made attempts to correct the situation but have been unsuccessful, as Mr. Johnston can tell you. Mr. Keitner was a powerful man, and a powerful man with several thousand head of cattle has a lot he can lose. So far we have lost almost a thousand."
The Kid whistled at that. "Do you have any clues, ma'am?"
Amity seemed to notice the Kid for the first time. As she spoke, and indeed, for much of the rest of their conversation, her eyes lingered on the Kid, looking him up and down and back up again. "Why, no, Mr. Jones, we do not. The rustlers strike at night when it is dark, purloining a few animals at a time. Although we have posted guards, no one has heard nor seen anything."
Aaron Johnston piped in, "Mr. Keitner wanted to hire a couple of men to act as detectives and do whatever was necessary to stop the cattle rustling. But since his untimely – demise – I haven't had the opportunity to speak with Mrs. Keitner regarding her plans for the ranch. It is my fervent hope that she will discontinue operations, sell the ranch, and move back to Atlanta, where she spent her childhood," he said, turning to her and holding his hands as if praying or imploring.
"Why, Mr. Johnston, how very considerate of you," she said, genuinely moved, "but I feel that we must hire these men to do the job they were entrusted to do by my late husband. Ambrose was a very intelligent and successful businessman and it has fallen upon my slender shoulders to continue the tradition of success that this ranch represents. Thank you, dear sweet Mr. Johnston, but if I do return to my beloved birthplace, it will be after, and only after, this terrible mystery is solved."
All three men were moved by this simple speech, in very different ways. Aaron Johnston sat back in his chair, defeated, but apparently used to taking orders from her. Heyes was impressed with an intelligence he had not suspected existed but still amused by her slow manner of speaking and her accent. (Her husband, the man she had chosen to spend her life with, had been reduced to being referred to as "Ay-um-brows.") But the Kid, the poor Kid, was the most deeply affected by her speech. Heyes noticed a physical change overtake his partner. The Kid was clearly completely taken with her, leaning on her every word and practically falling off his chair when her speech ended. The Kid had been tense and stiff when the two of them were alone with Mr. Johnston, but now he seemed completely relaxed and unaware of the presence of anyone but Mrs. Keitner.
Aaron said simply, "As you wish, Mrs. Keitner." But in that short period of time, Heyes became aware of several important things. For one thing, it seemed possible that Aaron was in love with her. It also, perish the thought, seemed possible that the Kid was falling in love with her. Finally, it seemed quite possible, probable, in fact, that she was toying with them all. Heyes had noticed how the Kid and Aaron both had looked shamelessly at her bodice when she had said the words "slender shoulders." This is exactly the kind of verbal manipulation that Heyes had used on people throughout his lifetime to entice them to willingly do what he wished. He knew there was magic in the air but was grateful he was immune.
"If you are saying, Mrs. Keitner, that you wish us to hire on as 'inside men' and try to find the cattle thieves, I guess we're still willing to do that. Right, Thaddeus?"
"Hell, yes," the Kid practically shouted. He got The Look again.
"Thank you kindly, Mr. Smith, Mr. Jones." Amity nodded at each of them in turn, but her gaze definitely lingered on the Kid. "I will leave you now to make employment arrangements with our very capable Mr. Johnston." As she rose to leave the room, all three men stood in deference. The Kid shot up so quickly that Heyes saw his face flush.
They were assigned a couple of bunks in the largest bunkhouse, although the Kid would much rather have been asked to stay in the large house where Mrs. Keitner lived. (He didn't say as much, but Heyes saw on his face that he was thinking it.) After some discussion with Mr. Johnston, it was decided that their real purpose would be revealed to the ranch employees, so the ranch hands would know help was on the way. They were given free rein to travel anywhere on the property at any time they wanted, and the ranch employees were told to assist them in any way they desired.
Heyes actually had a lot he wanted to talk over with his partner, but they were not allowed much time alone. The remainder of that first day saw them in discussions with Aaron and being introduced to the foreman and a number of the hands. After this, they were given two different tasks to accomplish which took up the rest of the day, so they didn't meet up with each other until suppertime, which they ate with the rest of the crew in the bunkhouse. After the meal, Heyes nudged the Kid in the arm to indicate they should stroll outside for a talk.
"Been wanting to talk to you all day," said Heyes, keeping his voice low in case someone nearby might be listening. "What do you think about this whole situation, Kid?"
"Dunno. Guess the best thing for us to do is have the hands keep watch at night."
"Keep watch? Oh, the cattle! No, I meant what do you think about these people?"
"I like them! All of them! Except Aaron."
"You don't like Aaron?" Heyes was confused. He trusted his own instincts and his first impression of Aaron Johnston, Mr. Keitner's secretary, had been that he was honest, efficient and trustworthy. He seemed to be as dedicated to Mrs. Keitner as he had been to her husband. In this time of turmoil a secretary like that would be an invaluable help. Then Heyes remembered that the Kid seemed just as smitten with Mrs. Keitner as Aaron seemed to be, so jealousy was probably a factor there. "What do you think of Amity Keitner, Kid?"
The Kid assumed a dreamy look. "She seems very nice. She's educated, intelligent . . . Seems like she needs a man around, though. Running a ranch like this is no job for a woman."
"What would you say if I told you I suspect she murdered her husband?" Heyes knew he was going out on a limb here.
And the Kid told him why. "Murdered! Are you crazy?" After the first syllable, he attempted to keep his voice down, but Heyes had clearly stunned him.
Heyes shushed him. "Yeah, murdered. And for the reasons you said. Intelligent . . ."
"Heyes, a woman like that isn't capable of doing anything despicable at all! Let alone kill someone! You can get that right out of your head! No one killed him – he died of a heart attack."
Heyes dismissed this part of the conversation, making a mental note to bring it up again at a more appropriate time, perhaps the next time he wanted to see the Kid turn red. He continued. "Aaron could have done it, too. He's in love with her. Would have to get rid of the husband first." He was pensive for a moment. "What do you think of the foreman?"
A change of pace soothed his partner. "Now, there's a lively one, Heyes." Heyes knew what he meant. Digger Preston was the main foreman of one of the biggest ranches in the state, and he had to keep on his toes to assure that the ranch was kept running smoothly. He had seemed happy to be introduced to two men who were hired to help him solve the missing cattle problem, a continuing theft that ultimately reflected back on his inability to prevent it. He was energetic and dynamic, his eyes constantly darting around and his body in continual movement. He was a big man and his handshake grip was powerful. When they rode away with Aaron after being introduced to Preston, they were exhausted.
"I agree," said Heyes. "Can't believe he hasn't been able to stop the thefts, though. I don't think he ever sleeps. Some of the hands are questionable. Most seem all right, but one or two don't seem to enjoy working here."
"Why are you asking? Do you already suspect someone?"
Heyes looked off in the distance. "I don't suspect someone – I suspect everyone. Someone's taking those cattle."
"A thousand head are hard to hide. Where would they be hiding them?"
"There're a lot of ranches in this part of the country, Kid. This one's the biggest but they're all big. Hell, the cows could even be on this ranch somewhere, maybe in a secluded forgotten part of range . . . Or maybe they joined one of the drives to Kansas City."
"There's no way we can cover all this by ourselves, and you know it. What's your plan?"
"I'll think about that tonight during my shift."
"Shift?" The Kid looked very skeptical. His voice lowered an octave.
"Yup! Shift! We have to spend some time out there at night. That's when the thefts occur. Do you want now until 1:00 AM or 1:00 AM until dawn?"
"Damn it, Heyes! That's a dangerous thing to do – ride around in the dark in an area you're not familiar with!" The Kid's tone of voice said he wanted nothing to do with this part of the plan.
Heyes's voice said he did. "All right, I'll take the first shift and you take the second. Take a few of the hands along with you – get to know them. They can help you out and show you around. You'll get familiar with the area soon enough. Full moon tonight," he said, grinning.
At 1:00 AM, Heyes walked into the bunkhouse exhausted. The Kid was waiting for him. "How'd it go?"
"All quiet out there. No movement. We kept our eyes open but didn't see anything. Morning will tell." He lay down on his bunk. "You're taking some of the boys with you, aren't you?"
"Two volunteered. Don't want to make anyone go who doesn't want to. They still have their jobs to do tomorrow. Where should I go?"
"Just let the hands show you. The biggest herd is about five miles from here, on the other side of that small hill they call their mountain. I figure the biggest one is the ripest one."
"You come up with a plan yet, He . . . Joshua? We can't keep riding shotgun indefinitely."
"Working on it. Definitely working on . . ." And Hannibal Heyes was asleep.
"See ya tomorrow," whispered the Kid as he went outside to saddle up with his two henchmen.
It was barely dawn when a flurry of activity and men's shouts woke Heyes. It took a moment for him to remember where he was but when he heard someone yell "A man's been shot!" he quickly ran outside.
He recognized one of the hands who had ridden out with the Kid earlier. As the man approached the bunkhouse and quickly dismounted, he inquired loudly if anyone knew how to tend a gunshot wound. A short ways behind him rode the second ranch hand and the Kid, who was favoring his left arm. Heyes knew immediately that his friend had been shot and he rushed to his side, helping him to dismount from the saddle. The Kid apparently wasn't badly injured. He was completely cognizant of all the activity around him and he was aware it was Heyes and a ranch hand who were assisting him to a bench outside the front door. "What happened?" Heyes anxiously asked his friend.
"We lost another dozen head," said the Kid angrily.
"What happened to you, Thaddeus?!"
When the Kid didn't immediately answer, the ranch hand did. "We were ridin' herd out past the gully where the trees mark the end of the road and we heard a gunshot. I saw Thaddeus fall to the ground and his horse spooked. Before Ted and me even knew what was happenin', Thaddeus yelled for us to take cover and he had already peeled off a couple shots toward the trees. I seen blood on his arm in the light of the moon, but he never let go of the reins and he mounted back up and galloped toward the trees. Ted and me followed him and heard some horses ridin' away but couldn't see nothin'. We looked around and saw some blood on the ground, so he musta hit one of 'em. I ain't never seen nothin' to match it in my life. I ain't never seen shooting like that!" When the other ranch hand got there, he echoed the same praises. "Never in my life!"
Heyes was used to hearing accolades regarding the Kid's abilities with a gun, and it made him proud anew each time. But he knew the Kid wasn't badly hurt, so he couldn't resist a bit of teasing. "Oh, I don't know – he only wounded one of them. He was probably aiming to kill."
The Kid glared at him and hissed, "They shot first! Joshua!"
Heyes smiled in appreciation. "Let me see." He took a cursory look at the arm wound, realized it was a very superficial flesh wound that could easily have been dressed by anyone, including himself, and said, "Let's get you in to see the doctor right away!"
"Why?" asked the Kid in astonishment. "It's only a scratch."
"I know, but I need you, partner, to help me solve these crimes. Don't want you keeling over with infection. Let's go."
The Kid thanked Ted and the other ranch hand for helping him and he and Heyes mounted up and rode toward Cranston. The sun was up by now and they rode slowly side by side.
"You said more cows were missing?" Heyes asked his partner.
"We counted about a dozen or so less. They must have been taken just before I was shot. I'd like to go back there this morning and see if I can follow the prints."
"Why don't you do that? I'm staying in town to hunt around."
"What's your real reason for going into town?" asked the Kid. "Did you find out something?"
"Not really. I've got a couple reasons. For one, to be able to talk to you alone. And I also want to meet the doctor who pronounced Mr. Keitner dead. I'm working on a theory here."
"Really? Well, tell me what it is. I'm the one getting shot here. I've got a right to know."
"Not yet, Kid. I need to know a few more things for certain first before I say anything. But you only got a flesh wound." He turned to the Kid with a big smile. "Don't worry – if they kill you, I'll tell you everything!"
Inside the town doctor's office, the Kid was sitting on the patient's stand with his shirt sleeve rolled up past the wound. Doc Kirkland, a rather rotund older man, showed interest in the wound but even more in the two men who had delivered it to him. "How did this happen, son?" he asked, adjusting the spectacles on his nose so that he could peer over them at the Kid.
Before the Kid could answer, Heyes spoke up. "He was shot at out on the range – on Diamond D property."
"Oh, I see," said the Doc with a chuckle. "Those cattle thieves again, I suppose. Well, you got lucky, Jones. This one's not much." He had finished cleaning the wound and was beginning to apply a bandage. "Here, hold this end. Yeah, you got lucky. A couple of the other fellas weren't so lucky."
The Kid's eyes shot up first to look at the doctor, who was concentrating on the wound, and then to Heyes, who was also ignoring him.
"Yeah," said Heyes to the doctor. "We heard about all the bad luck the Diamond D has been having lately. All the stolen cattle. And the shootings. First those fellas, then Mr. Keitner himself dies, and now this." Wait a minute here! thought the Kid, we have not heard about any shot-up fellas. He glared at Heyes, suspecting his partner was bluffing to get information.
"There, that'll do 'er, young fella," said the Doc, removing the gauze roll and replacing it on a shelf. "But now, you know Mr. Keitner wasn't shot. He died of a heart attack." He sat down heavily on his swivel chair. "Bad piece of luck, that. Amity has to try to run that ranch herself now, poor thing. Woman like that. Ranch like that needs a good man."
"What other fellas?" asked the Kid.
"Did Mr. Keitner have a bad heart?" asked Heyes, ignoring the Kid.
"He did lately," said the doctor, also ignoring the Kid. "Fact is, the last few months, he's been ailing with a bad heart and a lot of other things, too. Said he felt fine until he bought the Diamond D."
" . . . the ones who got shot," said the Kid emphatically.
Heyes was very interested in the doctor's last comment. "So Mr. Keitner isn't a native of Texas?"
"Nope, he was from Georgia. Came from old Southern money, picked himself the best fruit from the Southern belle tree, and moved to Texas. Drought started a year ago and the previous owner wanted to sell, so Ambrose outbid everyone around here and bought the ranch." He chuckled, adding, "so to speak."
"What about the fellas who got shot?" persisted the Kid.
Heyes needed clarification. "And he's had a run of bad luck since then. But it was a heart attack that took his life?"
"Yep, that's what it was, all right. Heart attack. Absolutely. His ticker just gave out. Couldn't handle all the bad luck." He winked and nudged Heyes in the arm. "Maybe couldn't handle the pretty young wife!"
Heyes was making mental notes like crazy. The Kid was looking like a crazy person.
"WHAT ABOUT THE FELLAS WHO GOT SHOT?!" the Kid yelled. Heyes and the doctor both turned to look at him in surprise.
"Oh," said Doc Kirkland, "a month or so ago someone took a couple of potshots at some of the boys who were riding herd out there. Nothing serious. But it scared those boys; one of them quit."
Heyes knew the Kid was looking at him and he wanted to return the look but thought better of it. Instead, he said, "Seems like we've hired on at a bad time."
Doc Kirkland got suddenly serious. "That's right, boys. You might have bitten off more than you can chew. Talk has it that you were hired to find the cattle thieves. Seems like those poachers mean business. Maybe you should think about going back where you came from." He tapped the Kid's wound, causing it to hurt anew. "See what's already happened here."
Heyes made a move to leave. "Thanks for the warning, Doc, but we mean business, too. My partner here thinks he nicked one of them; let us know if anyone comes in with a gunshot wound." He slapped the Kid on the arm in the same place. "C'mon, partner, we'd better be getting back."
Once outside and out of earshot of anyone, Heyes got serious. "I figure it was right after those fellas got shot at that Big Mac contacted us to take this job. You go check out those prints from last night, Kid," he instructed his partner. "You probably won't find anything important. But you might. If you're up to it," he added with concern.
"It wasn't my gun hand," said the Kid. "I'm fine. At least, I will be if people stop hitting my wound. What are you going to do?"
"Think I'll stay in town today and see what I can find out. Too early for the saloons to be open. Maybe I'll pay a visit to the local Sheriff."
"The Sheriff?" The Kid looked worried.
Heyes smiled broadly. "Don't worry, Kid, he'll never recognize me without you there. What's Heyes without Curry, right?"
But, truth be told, visiting the Sheriff did actually make Heyes nervous, so he put it off for a bit. Instead, he spent the morning walking the boardwalks of the town, ducking into any store he found open. The feed and grain store had a number of customers and Heyes milled among them hoping for information, but no one had anything to say that was of interest to him. Aaron Johnston had paid him one week's salary in advance, so he decided to eat an early lunch at a handsome-looking little restaurant. He tried to get information from the waitress, but once again met with a dead end. She did, however, a fill him in on who her favorite men were who worked at the Diamond D Ranch. She was partial to Digger Preston.
After lunch, Heyes found a saloon open for business. Over a beer, he grilled the bartender but found out nothing except that the bartender (and most other people, apparently) was not overly fond of Mr. Keitner or upset that he was dead. Ambrose Keitner had donated money to help enlarge the local school, but his personality was abrasive and few people had actually liked him. When he felt he had exhausted this source of information, Heyes decided he had put off visiting the Sheriff long enough. He headed over to the Sheriff's office and, after hesitating, went inside. The Sheriff, a muscular man, was sitting at his desk and offered Heyes a chair. Before sitting, Heyes moved the chair so that the Sheriff's line of sight would not include the wanted posters on the wall. Although discreet, he noticed that this did not escape the Sheriff's attention.
Heyes introduced himself as one of the men Ambrose Keitner hired to stop the cattle thieving. He half expected the sheriff to take offense at the implication that he was faltering in his job, but the lawman seemed happy to have the help.
"These rustlers have us all baffled," said the Sheriff. "Sometimes they strike in the middle of the night, and sometimes in broad daylight. There's no rhyme or reason to it. A couple weeks ago they even shot up a couple of the hands in the process."
"One more today, Sheriff," said Heyes, raising a finger. "My partner got shot just before dawn. Oh, don't worry – he's all right. But these men are playing more dangerous than we thought. Seems to me we have to do something."
"I've only got two deputies, Mr. Smith. I'm open to suggestions. We've done everything we can so far, but they always seem to know exactly. . ."
"Something's different now, Sheriff. My partner thought he nicked one of them. I've informed the doctor to report anyone coming in with a gunshot wound. That might be a lead. But I'm here for information. What can you tell me about the Diamond D or Ambrose Keitner that might shed some light?"
"What do you want to know?"
"Anything that's relevant. What kind of a man was Keitner, did he have enemies, how . . ."
"Enemies! I'll say he had enemies! Most of the other ranchers in the state don't . . . didn't like him! Here's a man who was born and raised in Georgia, who knows nothing about cattle ranching, who comes in and takes over one of the biggest ranches in this state and makes a go of it. He's the one who's got the lake on his property, and he's the one who gets the water to his cattle every day. I see you didn't know that; you haven't been here long enough to find out things like this."
"That's why I'm talking to you, Sheriff."
"That's right – every day he has men cart barrels of water from the lake out to each of the grazing herds. Every other rancher in this county is suffering and Keitner won't sell them the water. We've been watching cows die, Mr. Smith, right and left, and that's our bread and butter. And Ambrose Keitner comes along and makes a go of it."
"You sound like a bitter man, Sheriff."
The Sheriff stiffened up and spoke, Heyes thought, from the heart. "I may be bitter – and I assure you I did not like Keitner much – but cattle rustling is a serious offense, and it is my job to see that the rustlers are caught and jailed! And that is exactly what I intend to do!"
"Sorry, Sheriff, I meant no offense. My partner and I intend to work with you. Whatever you want." Heyes stood to leave. "But I want to ask you something else. If Ambrose Keitner had so many enemies, did it ever occur to you that he may have been murdered?"
The Sheriff hesitated before speaking. It was only a second, but Heyes caught it. "Murdered? Of course not! He died of complications of bad organs. The doctor said the thing that killed him finally was a heart attack."
Complications of bad organs? Whatever did that mean? But Heyes did not ask. He tipped his hat to the Sheriff and left. Before riding back to the Diamond D he stopped at another of the saloons and questioned a few more people, but got no information he did not already know.
Back at the ranch house, Heyes unexpectedly walked in on a conversation between Amity Keitner, Aaron Johnston, and the foreman Digger Preston. Digger had been just about to leave.
"Oh, sorry," said Heyes, making a turn to leave.
"No, do stay, Mr. Smith," said Mrs. Keitner. "I would find your opinion of value."
Heyes nodded to the departing foreman and then sat down. "What is it, Mrs. Keitner?" Once again he was struck by her beauty and her slow Southern manner and accent, but he remembered that the Kid had been completely disarmed by her, so he hardened himself and tried – somewhat unsuccessfully – to think of her as just another man.
"Our foreman Mr. Preston has just informed Mr. Johnston and myself that this afternoon a Brahma bull that my dear husband had sent for has just been delivered. This is a prize animal worth several thousand dollars, Mr. Smith, and much much more in future stud fees. Nothing must happen to this animal for the good of the ranch, and I am very much afraid – in the light of everything that is happening – that this valuable animal might be stolen. I – and I am quite sure Mr. Johnston as well – would like your opinion as to how we can avoid this dreadful possibility."
"This animal's worth a lot to this ranch," said Aaron. "We really can't afford to lose it. Mrs. Keitner and I are both afraid of what could happen."
"There's a lot you can do to protect the bull. First of all, an armed guard around the clo . . ." Heyes stopped talking as an idea occurred to him. He hesitated before continuing, to the astonishment of his listeners. An idea was forming itself in his mind, and he was not sure if he could trust either of the people he was about to entrust it with. He scrutinized the beautiful Mrs. Keitner and the attentive Mr. Johnston. Both of them seemed genuinely interested in stopping the cattle thieving. He decided that he had no choice but to trust them, at least in the preservation of the ranch. Now, the death of Ambrose Keitner was another matter . . .
"I have a better idea," Heyes interrupted himself. "Let it slip out that the bull is on the ranch, and use it as bait."
"Bait?" both asked at once.
"Yes, bait. The Sheriff is working with Thaddeus and me, and with his help, we can get enough men to cover the area. Put the bull – oh, put it out on the northwest range. There's plenty of cover there for us to lay in wait for the bandits to come along."
"An admirable idea, Mr. Smith," said Amity, "but plenty of cover for the bandits as well!"
"Amity, he's right," said Aaron. "If we place our men before making it known that the bull has been delivered, we might be able to make this work. We'd use it as bait."
Heyes continued. "Let the bull stay in the main barn tonight, with armed guards, like I said. I know you can't keep him in there indefinitely. Tomorrow we'll start spreading the word that he'll be taken to the northwest range. But we'll already be out there waiting."
Amity Keitner straightened the skirts of her dress, burgundy today. She said nothing for a moment, then she looked up. "Very well, Mr. Smith. We must trust you."
Heyes took supper with the hands in the bunkhouse, again talking and gathering information. The Kid was not present and when the meal had finished, Heyes began to be concerned. Heyes knew the Kid was more than capable of taking care of himself, but nagging worries about his friend not having returned by nightfall played through his mind. Heyes knew it was his job to ride out to the range for the early evening. He asked for volunteers but no one wanted to go, in light of the men having been shot at the night before. Digger Preston, the foreman, apparently felt sorry for Heyes and volunteered to ride with him for the evening.
As Heyes and Digger were saddling up, the Kid rode back in. Heyes was relieved to see him. But once again, Heyes and the Kid did not have an opportunity to exchange words in private.
"Preston, we need more men out there than just the two of you," said the Kid angrily to the foreman. "I got shot at again!"
Heyes was astonished. "What!?"
"That's right – again." The Kid removed his hat and threw it at his partner. Heyes fingered a bullet hole by the crown and let out a low whistle.
"What happened?" asked Digger.
"I rode back out to that stand of trees this morning to see if I could trace anything. There were some hoofprints so I followed them. There were about four or five horses. Easy to follow. I tracked them south for some miles and then lost them over the rocks. I went back to the herd to look for any cow prints that might have 'strayed.' Nothing. On my way back to the ranch tonight, someone took a shot at me again. I couldn't really tell the direction of the shot, so I just came back here. You're going to need more than one man, Joshua. I'd take a whole battalion if I were you."
"This is a little too close," said Heyes, handing the hat back to his partner.
"I don't like putting any of my men in danger," said Digger. "And that includes the two of you."
"Well, you don't have to worry about me," said the Kid. "I've been up almost twenty-four hours and I'm going straight to bed. Good night to you both."
"Night, Thaddeus," said Heyes, thinking deeply.
The Kid turned back to him, looking worried. "Take it easy, Joshua," he said simply. Heyes gave him a little nod. After the Kid had left, Digger said, "Looks like someone doesn't like you and your partner."
"Looks like someone doesn't like him, anyhow."
"Maybe we should stay in tonight. Too many shots are being fired. Someone could get killed."
Heyes was genuinely surprised. "Preston! Don't tell me you're afraid!"
This did the trick. Digger Preston assumed a rock-hard expression and replied, "I'm afraid of no man. Let's go." And he reined his horse in the direction of the range. Heyes followed, smiling. He had just thought of something.
On the ride there, Heyes decided to question the foreman. In the guise of small talk, he asked Preston how long he'd worked for the Diamond D ("came to work for Mr. Keitner"), where he'd worked before ("the Dark Star Ranch, south of here"), where he was from originally ("lived in this part of the state all my life"), and so on. It turns out that he had been a foreman at three or four ranches in this part of Texas and his longest term had been at the Dark Star. But he'd had a falling-out with one of the owners and then Mr. Keitner, who had just moved to the area from Georgia and bought the Diamond D, needed an experienced foreman and hired him. Preston said he liked Mr. Keitner and was sorry that he was dead. Amity Keitner asked him to stay on as foreman.
"I understand Keitner had a lot of enemies," said Heyes, watching for the foreman's reaction.
Digger Preston looked straight ahead. "I don't get involved in that," he said simply.
The two of them decided to ride shotgun on the herd all night, but it was a quiet uneventful night. Heyes managed to glean some information he thought he might find useful later from the foreman during their small talk. Heyes was very tired when he returned to the bunkhouse in the morning. All of the men had already left for their daily duties. He found the Kid dressing. For once, they were alone. In spite of being sleepy, Heyes needed a minute with his partner.
"How's the arm today?" asked Heyes, sitting on the Kid's bunk while the Kid shaved.
"I'm fine, Heyes, really. That hand who got shot – the one who didn't quit? – yesterday I found out who he was. I asked him what happened, but he didn't remember anything. He was knocked out when he hit the ground. Woke up in the doc's office. Say, did the doc report anyone coming in with a gunshot wound?"
"Not that I'm aware of." Heyes leaned back. "You know, we've walked into quite a hornet's nest here, Kid." He yawned. "Even the Sheriff doesn't look trustworthy. And he looks familiar but I'm sure we've never seen him before. I've got a number of theories. But one of them died last night, after talking with Preston. If he can be believed. Not sure I believe him, though."
"Why's that?" asked the Kid, splashing water on his face and reaching for his gunbelt.
Heyes yawned again. "I'll tell you when we have some time together. I need to talk to you . . ."
"So talk." When the Kid got no answer, he looked over to see his partner asleep on the bed. The Kid chuckled and looked for his hat. He was in the act of putting it on to leave when he saw Amity Keitner standing in the doorway of the bunkhouse. It was the second time the Kid had met with her and he felt the same thrill he had the first time. She was very beautiful and very feminine and today the dress she was wearing was red. Red!
"Good morning, Mr. Jones," she said in that enticing Southern drawl of hers. "I was hoping to have a word with you and Mr. Smith, but I see I am too late." She nodded toward Heyes. It did not escape the Kid's attention that most women would have been embarrassed in the presence of a single man on a bed, fully clothed notwithstanding, but Amity Keitner was not affected.
"Ma'am," said the Kid, removing his hat again. "I can help you, ma'am."
"Please call me Amity," she said. The Kid fancied he saw her batting her eyelashes at him. He shook his head to test the image. She wasn't. "Call me Ki . . . uh . . . Thaddeus, ma'am."
"Thaddeus," she said seriously, lowering her voice so as not to awaken Heyes, "Have you been able to learn anything about the cattle thieves yet? I am concerned, as you know. Mr. Preston just informed me that you will be delivering the bull to the northwest range today."
"No, ma'am – uh – Amity. I'll be in charge of the bull myself. A few of the boys – ten, I think – volunteered to place themselves out there where they would be hidden, and they've already left. I was about to leave with the bull myself. Uh – just to let you know – I got shot at again yesterday."
"Shot at! Again! Oh, you poor man! This is truly distressing." Amity did indeed seem truly distressed.
The Kid adored her for what he interpreted as her tender feelings for him. "Oh, ma' . . . Amity, calm yourself. It just hit my hat. That's all."
"Perhaps, Thaddeus, we must rethink what we are doing. I have given recent consideration to selling the ranch."
"I don't want to tell you what to do, Amity, but please let us try to solve the problem first. My partner has a good head for these things. And I . . . well, I . . . I'm a good decoy."
She smiled and bowed her head and then looked slowly up at him with deep blue liquid eyes. "Very well, Thaddeus. I will do whatever you, and Mr. Smith, wish." And she turned and sashayed away, her full dress rustling with her steps. A beautiful sound to the Kid, who watched every sashay.
He was startled to hear the voice of Hannibal Heyes behind him. "And just what does Thaddeus want Mrs. Keitner to do?" he asked with a laugh.
"Heyes! I suppose you were listening in on our private conversation!"
"Every word, Kid. That woman is a vixen. Watch yourself with her."
The Kid turned on him angrily. "No, she's not! She's a woman who just lost her husband and has a huge responsibility, that's all. She's mixed up now, is all."
Heyes knew there was merit to those words, but he persisted. "I saw the way she looked at you, Kid. Both times. She's interested in you and that doesn't sound like a grieving widow to me."
"I'm her friend, Heyes. Maybe she just likes me."
"I like you, too, Kid, but I guarantee I never looked at you like that!"
"Get some sleep, Heyes. You're delirious." The Kid knew instinctively that further words would only incite him so he turned on his heels and left to perform his job duties.
Heyes chuckled for a moment, then his face became solemn. Although he was tired, he sat up for another hour thinking.
After only a few hours of sleep and a good late lunch provided by Mrs. Cleavor, Heyes decided a talk with Amity Keitner was the next order of business. He found her sitting outside under a shade tree and asked if he could share the bench with her. Always the coquette, she concurred demurely.
"I am truly charmed by the beauty of this day," she said in her usual strong Southern accent, dragging one-syllable words into two-syllable words, and so on.
As usual, Heyes was amused by her accent and believed he was covering it with a straight face.
But Amity was on to him. "I see you are smirking, Mr. Smith. Is it because I am a woman?" What would have passed as mild pique in anyone else probably represented rage in Amity Keitner.
This took Heyes by complete surprise; he had been unaware that he was obvious. "Oh. No, of course not, Mrs. Keitner. I'm merely enjoying your Atlanta accent. That's what I find charming."
Disarmed, Amity blushed and replied, "Why, thank you, sir. I am indeed from the fine metropolis of Atlanta. From one of the oldest and grandest families, I am proud to say – the Buckmans."
"Quality tells."
"Thank you again, Mr. Smith, but I must warn you that a shallow compliment is no compliment at all."
Now it was Heyes's turn to blush. "I meant it as a true compliment, Mrs. Keitner."
"Amity." This simple word told him that she had forgiven him and was no longer angry. Apparently she wanted to be Heyes's friend as well.
"Joshua," he countered.
"Please forgive my quick temper," she said. "My dear husband's death recently has caused an unfortunate change in my temperament, to the extent that I fear I may be offending my employees and acquaintances. In addition, many people have visited with their condolences in the last days, many of whom I have never met. I feel they merely wish to see the ranch, or perhaps me." Heyes noticed that she never used the word 'friends.'
"You don't have a quick temper, Amity," he responded. "And you're not offending me. I'm amazed that you even have the stamina to carry on so soon after your husband's death." He tried not to make this sound like an insult or accusation, but was not sure he succeeded.
Nonetheless, she responded with, "Thank you, Joshua." She smoothed her skirt with her hand and looked off at nothing, deep in thought. After a moment, she continued. "My husband suffered horribly before he died. We were very happy in Georgia, but soon after we relocated here, dear Ambrose fell ill." She stopped talking.
Heyes watched her face deep in thought, then decided to interrupt her. "What was wrong with him?"
She started as if surprised to see him, but recovered quickly. "It began shortly after we arrived. Ambrose took me on a buggy ride to see the property. Mrs. Cleavor packed us a picnic lunch and we intended to spend the day surveying our new domain. There is a small lake on the property, Mr. – I mean Joshua, that is extensively used for the purpose of providing drink for the stock. It is not attractive like the ponds and gardens back home, but Ambrose wanted me to see it. Ambrose drove us so close to the edge that one of the wheels of the unfortunate buggy became mired in the mud. We were quite alone out there. I refused to step out of the buggy due to the mud, so Ambrose – dear man! – stepped out and by himself used his brute strength to disengage the wheel from the mud. Unfortunately, he lost his balance and fell backward into the water! He stepped out of the water, covered from head to toe in mud and wet through and through. I declare, Joshua, we have never laughed so hard in our lives! As he drove us back to the main house, I fussed him so for dirtying my new dress, never anticipating the tragedy that was to come from this day."
Here she stopped again. When she had spoken of her husband, Heyes had noted the love and joy in her eyes, but now her expression had changed to one of suffering. "What happened?" he asked gently.
In an obvious attempt to remain composed, she continued. "From this happy experience, Ambrose acquired illness. At first it was nothing more than sniffles, but he seemed to get worse and worse. The only medical man in Cranston, Dr. Kirkland, supplied Ambrose with many different tonics, but nothing seemed to help. Eventually, after a couple of months, Ambrose was well enough to pursue normal activities, but in a severely weakened state, you understand. Then the pains began . . ."
"Pains?"
"Stomach pains. Pains and cramping and . . . all sorts of debilitations. Poor Dr. Kirkland tried everything to help Ambrose, but he just kept getting worse. I watched him, Joshua. I watched the man I love sink slowly with palpitations, with agony, until . . ." She stopped talking and stared straight ahead. There were tears in her eyes but Heyes was amazed that she was able to maintain her composure. He had been inclined to believe that she may have been directly responsible for her husband's death, but now he was unsure. Everything in her manner told him that she loved and missed the man. He said nothing and waited her out.
In a short time, she snapped out of it and said, "I am truly sorry, Joshua, to have taken your time in this shameless manner." She blushed and looked down.
"There's no need to be sorry, Amity. None at all. You haven't 'taken my time.'"
She stood suddenly. "I no longer wish to discuss this subject. Please tell me what precautions have been undertaken today for the protection of this ranch."
Heyes stood also, affected by her speech. He recovered quickly. "My partner delivered the Brahma to the northwest range today. A number of the men – ten or twelve, in pairs – are hiding out there now. There's plenty of cover. They're not making campfires. Their instructions are to spend the night and watch the bull. He's been separated from the rest of the herds. Everybody on the ranch knows where the Brahma is, so if there's a traitor among us . . ."
"A traitor! Surely you don't believe that!"
"It's possible, Amity. I don't know what to believe. My partner will be staying in tonight. He's been shot at twice already and I'll replace him out there tonight. Our job is to find these thieves, Amity, and that's what we intend to do."
She turned as if in a daze and slowly walked to the house. Over her shoulder, she murmured, "Thank you."
Heyes spent a few minutes in the same spot, thinking over what had just transpired. He decided he needed to speak to Mrs. Cleavor, to see if she could shed any light on the recent visitors. He found her in the dining room, cleaning silverware.
"Mrs. Cleavor," said Heyes as charmingly as possible, pretending he was just passing through the house. "I see you found a moment to do something besides serve folks food. Mrs. Keitner just told me there have been a number of visitors lately."
"Lord, yes!" Said Mrs. Cleavor, thankful for the break from the unrewarding task of scrubbing silver. "Visitors from every ranch around here and half the town besides!"
"Anyone you know personally?"
"I know everyone, Mr. Smith. I was with Mr. and Mrs. Schuyler when they owned this spread. When they moved on, Mr. and Mrs. Keitner kept me on. I've lived in this county all my life."
Heyes remembered the foreman saying approximately the same thing about himself. "Mrs. Keitner must have a lot of friends."
"Well-wishers, Mr. Smith. Not the same thing. When someone dies, it's proper to pay respects to the widow. It's proper to bring something – food, money, flowers. Most of these people never bothered to get to know her before. I don't like to speak mean of anyone, but I think most people are just curious."
"But don't you think Mrs. Keitner had some friends?" Heyes persisted.
"She doesn't socialize much. Only friend I can think of is Ostin Justice. Ostin and I were in the same grade in grammar school. He's the foreman down at the Dark Star Ranch these days. He brought her the biggest bouquet of flowers of anyone. He was Mr. Keitner's friend, too. Mr. Keitner said that if he didn't have Digger Preston to watch after the ranch, he would have hired Ostin. Ostin's been by twice in the last couple days. 'Course, he's a friend of Digger's, too."
"Is the Dark Star experiencing any cattle thefts?"
"None I know of. Talk is it's only the Diamond D."
"Thanks, Mrs. Cleavor." Heyes now had a lot of new information to think over, and that's exactly what he did. That, and rummage through various personal effects in the bunkhouse, not his own.
That evening the Kid returned for supper in the bunkhouse and apparently was no longer angry at Heyes.
"How'd it go?" Heyes asked him.
"Good. I didn't get shot at today."
"It's the little things. Bull happy in his new pasture?"
"Ecstatic. Not lonely, though. There are so many Diamond D hands watching him, he'll have to do a song and dance for them."
Heyes chuckled. He made sure no one was listening, and then said, "I had a talk with Amity today. Think I've changed my mind about her."
The Kid raised his eyebrows and his voice inflection. "So it's 'Amity' now, is it?"
Heyes fidgeted. "That's beside the point. She talked about her husband. Seems genuinely sad about his death. That doesn't mean anything, of course. She might have killed him and regrets it now. But I watched her reaction and I don't think so. Someone else killed him."
"Heyes, why do you keep thinking Mr. Keitner was murdered? There's only one mystery on this ranch, and that's the one we were hired to solve."
"Oh, he was murdered all right, Kid. A strong healthy man like that doesn't suddenly get all kinds of illnesses just because he changed locations. Somebody did something to make him ail."
"The Doc said he died of a heart attack. Why can't you accept that?"
"The Doc's in on it, Kid. He knows more than he's letting on. Or didn't you get that impression?"
"No, I did not. You're acting crazy here, Heyes. Let that murder idea go."
"I don't think so. Somebody wanted Mr. Keitner out of the way, for whatever reason, and somebody is stealing his cattle. Maybe those two things are related and maybe they aren't. But I do know one thing for sure. Somebody shot at you twice. You – the man hired to stop the rustling. Someone has more information than they should have and they are trying to kill us!"
Stunned, the Kid just stared at his partner.
After supper, Heyes looked for Digger Preston to coordinate plans with him. Heyes wasn't about to let the Kid venture out to the range a third night in a row and he had volunteered to replace him for the entire night. Digger said he would ride along with Heyes for the night. Digger looked tired. Everyone was beginning to look worn due to the lack of proper sleep.
Around about midnight, Digger and Heyes heard a rider approaching but couldn't make out who it was. As the rider got closer, it became clear it was the Kid. Heyes was only mildly surprised. He had told the Kid to stay in and catch up on sleep, but his friend had a mind of his own. Heyes figured the Kid had probably been thinking over what he had told him at supper.
"I'll relieve you, Preston," said the Kid to the foreman. "You do need a rest."
"Are you sure?" asked Digger, half-heartedly.
"Get going!" ordered the Kid, and Digger turned his horse and cantered back in the direction of the main bunkhouse.
"It's been quiet," Heyes informed his partner. "We've stayed with the bull. I know there are hands out here, but they're hidden and they've been quiet. There are even more hands with the main herd in the north range, too. Sheriff and a couple deputies were by here earlier, too."
"Sounds like it's as busy out here as San Francisco on Saturday night."
Heyes chuckled. "No, it's quiet, Kid. Nothing much happening tonight."
They rode on aimlessly in silence, the Kid a few paces behind Heyes.
What happened next lasted only a few seconds, but later Heyes would say that it felt like it lasted a lifetime. First, behind him Heyes heard the Kid's horse suddenly jump into a gallop. The Kid passed so closely to Heyes's left side that their knees banged into each other. At the same time, out of the corner of his eye, Heyes saw the Kid slap Heyes's own horse with the reins hard across the rump. This caused the horse to rear up and to partially unseat its unsuspecting rider. Completely disrupted, Heyes turned his wide-open eyes to his partner for guidance, but the Kid was riding off at full gallop in the direction Digger had taken. Heyes heard him yell "Ride!" but was unable to because the next thing he knew, he was falling to the ground with a red-hot pain in his left arm. Then he heard the gunshot. First one, and then several after a few more seconds.
That's all Heyes remembered until he woke up in a bedroom of the main house. The first thing he saw was Mrs. Cleavor, who was bandaging his arm. Heyes knew from experience that the pain in his arm was the result of a bullet. His forehead hurt, too. He then noticed Amity Keitner and Aaron Johnston and the Sheriff and the Kid standing by the bed. He saw the Kid smile and smiled back.
"Joshua, I am so relieved to see that you are well!" This came from Amity, and it sounded genuine. "I declare, you gave us all quite a turn!" Heyes looked at her blankly.
"That you did, Mr. Smith," said Aaron. Heyes was at a loss to understand why all these people were paying attention to him in the middle of the night, and Amity and Aaron both in their nightclothes yet! Then he slowly began to remember what had happened. Someone must have shot him in the arm. Right after that, the Kid took off after the shooter. No, it had to be before – Heyes remembered he didn't get shot until after the Kid had yelled at him to ride away. Heyes's head hurt with the effort of remembering. He tried to sit up by leaning on his good arm, but got dizzy for his effort.
"Whoa, take it easy, partner," said the Kid, steadying him and placing a pillow behind his back.
"You're fine now, Mr. Smith," said Mrs. Cleavor, placing her meager medical supplies back inside a box. "Just don't go tryin' any hard thinkin' with that hard head of yours."
Heyes vaguely wondered whose head he was supposed to use for thinking, but then realized that he must have received a concussion when falling from his horse.
"Well, I'm glad it's not too bad," said the Sheriff. "Amity, Jones, I want a word with you two."
Mrs. Keitner and the Kid followed the Sheriff into the next room and did not close the door. Mrs. Cleavor had left and Aaron attempted to say something soothing to Heyes, but Heyes held up his hand for silence; he strained to hear what the Sheriff was saying in the other room.
"Jones, I appreciate what you did out there tonight. Smith'd be a corpse if it wasn't for you. My boys should have a little surprise for me by the time I get back to the office."
The Kid was about to acknowledge the gratitude when Amity interrupted. "Sheriff, what are you on about? You have aroused me from my bedchamber with news that Joshua has been shot . . ."
The Sheriff interrupted her. "I understand from your partner that you were shot yourself a couple days ago, Jones."
"Just a scratch, Sheriff."
"I suppose you had some reason for not reporting it to me."
Heyes was the quick thinker, not the Kid. He smiled and looked sheepish. "Just plumb forgot, I guess."
"Hmmm." The Sheriff looked suspicious for a minute; then, "Well, I guess I can't say anything in light of what you did tonight." He turned to Amity, who was looking quite piqued at being ignored. "Amity, Jones has done a lot for the Diamond D tonight, too. Looks like he solved the cattle thefts!"
"Oh?" Amity's voice was high-pitched and surprised. There was more than a little appreciation in it, and Heyes heard, rather than saw, Amity hug the Kid and kiss him. "Oh, thank you so much! Someone please tell me what happened. Thaddeus, Sheriff, someone tell me. I am all ears!"
No, you've got much better body parts than that, thought the Kid, and probably Heyes in the next room as well.
The Sheriff was the one who told the story. "In the early evening tonight, Jones rode into town to tell me about you using the bull as bait to catch the rustlers. I wasn't exactly in favor of this idea, but the damage had been done, the bull was already out to graze. Jones said he felt that the reason the rustlers were successful, in spite of the Diamond D constantly relocating the herds to different ranges, was because there was an insider supplying the rustlers with information. This certainly made sense to me. I had been inclined to think that way myself."
In the next room, Heyes and Aaron Johnston were both listening attentively, completely amazed. But Heyes was amazed for a different reason than Aaron - Heyes couldn't believe that the Kid had come up with exactly the same theories he had, and completely independently of him!
"Jones and I talked over who the culprit might be, considered all the possibilities, and we both came up with the same name – Digger Preston! The only man who always had advance information about the locations of the herds each day. He was the one who told Johnston where he intended to place them."
Amity let out a little "oh!" and placed her hand over her heart. Clearly this was a shock. "But Digger is the man my husband hired as foreman. My husband trusted – trusted him to run this large ranch! Why, this surely cannot be!"
"Take it easy, Amity," said the Kid soothingly.
"Yes, take it easy, Amity, there's more," the Sheriff continued. "Jones asked around and was able to account for the whereabouts of the Diamond D hands during the times he got shot at and the last time cattle were stolen. This means that the rustlers were outsiders. So it means that Preston somehow got word to them where the herds were going to be each day. Probably been doing it from the beginning."
The Kid continued the story. "As soon as I realized that Preston was involved, I remembered my partner had ridden out with him tonight. I was anxious to ride out to check on him, but the Sheriff asked me to do something else, and he and his deputies rode out there first. By the time I got out there, I passed the Sheriff on his way back. We exchanged information."
Amity cleared her throat. She spoke in a small scared voice. "Thaddeus, what exactly did the Sheriff think was more important for you to do than check on your partner?"
Heyes heard a change in the Kid's voice when he spoke, barely noticeable, but there it was – a low, intentional tone. "He asked me to talk with Mrs. Cleavor about the visitors you've had lately. He wanted to know of any who may have lingered to talk with Preston. And any repeat visitors."
"And?" Amity seemed interested in finding this out as well.
"Ostin Justice, the foreman at the Dark Star Ranch just south of here," said the Sheriff. "According to Mrs. Cleavor, he's visited the Diamond D several times in the last few weeks, two times since your husband's death alone."
"Oh, yes," said Amity. "Ostin has visited with us many times. He was a friend of my husband's and mine. It is so comforting to have someone near you in times of trouble on whom you can rely. Ostin is just this sort of man. Of course, he sometimes visits because he is also a friend of Dig . . ." It all suddenly came together for Amity. Her eyes got very wide and she looked in horror at the Sheriff.
"That's right, Amity," he said gently. "Ostin Justice and Digger Preston are friends."
"Oh, no, no," she said in a very small voice, reaching for the chair behind her to sit down. The Kid made sure she was comfortable and squeezed her shoulder. She was unaware of his guidance, however. Her mind was somewhere else. "Oh, no," she wailed. "Not Digger. And not Ostin! However can this be? What possible reason can they have for wanting to rob the Diamond D? Ostin was our friend – almost since Ambrose and I first moved here. At least, I thought he was." Her voice trailed off and she seemed to be having difficulty containing her emotions.
But she managed it, much to the Kid's surprise. Not only was she beautiful and intelligent, he thought, she was no frail woman. Heyes, in the next room, was thinking much along the same lines.
The Kid spoke to her, gently and directly. "I'm sorry, Amity, that they plotted against your husband and you. And I'm sorry you had to find out this way. But there's more, and you should know it."
She raised her eyes to him, slowly and painfully, as if to say that she was not ready to hear more. But she squared her shoulders and nodded assent.
"I rode out and made plans with the Sheriff. Then I caught up with Preston and Joshua. I told Preston to ride back, I would replace him. I watched him ride in the direction of the ranch. I also watched him stop, turn back toward us, and aim his gun at us. I expected this so I slapped Joshua's horse to lunge out of the way, but Joshua caught a bullet anyhow. I hightailed it right for Preston. He didn't expect that. The Sheriff came at him from behind. Preston fired a couple more shots but we disarmed him without trouble."
"He was shocked, Amity," continued the Sheriff. "I don't think he ever expected to be caught."
"But why, Sheriff?" wailed Amity. "Whatever made him steal from his employer?"
"He didn't. He did the shooting, not the thieving. Most of the men who were shot at were shot by Digger Preston. Even the bullet through Jones's hat. He admitted it, although one of the Dark Star hands name of Silas grazed Jones his first night. But the cattle rustling – that Digger didn't do."
"Oh, please don't tell me that it was . . ."
"Ostin. Sorry, Amity, it was Ostin Justice and some of the hands from the Dark Star Ranch. Preston fed him the information about where the herds were grazing, and Ostin and his men always managed to find them and take a few head at a time. They've been doing this for a long time; I'm sure you and Ambrose didn't even miss any at first. A nice little profit they turned on quality cattle. In a time of drought!"
The Kid picked up the story from there. "The Sheriff's deputies have Digger Preston in jail and have gone back out to the Dark Star Ranch to pick up Ostin Justice and the men who worked with him. They'll be brought in for questioning and we expect that they will be arrested."
Amity looked completely weary. She suddenly looked up and called out, "Mr. Johnston! Are you nearby?"
Aaron Johnston, who was still sitting on a chair near Heyes's bed, stood so suddenly that he surprised the hell out of Heyes. He ran to Amity's side.
Amity stood, by now completely in control. "Mr. Johnston, it seems that tomorrow I must ask you to find the Diamond D a new foreman."
"I heard everything," he told her. "It's deplorable." He turned to the Kid. "But it's good to know that the cattle rustling will stop. Thank you, Mr. Jones, for all you've done." He grabbed Amity by the arm and escorted her from the room. The Kid heard a whispered word of gratitude from a woman who had been through quite a lot of agony lately.
"I'll be getting back to check on the prisoner," the Sheriff told the Kid. "You and your partner had better get some sleep. I'll need a statement from you in the morning." And he left.
The Kid went back to Heyes's room and sat down heavily in the chair. "Did you listen?"
"Yeah, I heard it all. I'm proud of you, Kid. How did you figure it all out?"
"Thanks. Hate to admit it, but I had to think like you. It just had to be an inside job. And who would have more information than Digger Preston? After you rode out tonight, I paid a visit to the Sheriff and he agreed with me." He leaned back in the chair, hands stretched behind his head. "I'm tired of getting shot at. I'm glad it's all over."
"But it's not, Kid. We still have to figure out who murdered Ambrose Keitner."
The chair crashed heavily down. "You're not going to start that again, are you?!"
The next morning, after a blessed good night's sleep (finally!), Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry rode in to town to meet with the Sheriff. Heyes was still a little dizzy so they rode slowly, arguing all the way about the possibility that Ambrose Keitner had been murdered. Inside the Sheriff's office, they saw the Diamond D's former foreman behind bars. Heyes nodded solemnly to him but the Kid had trouble acknowledging someone who had shot at him and his partner. The Sheriff indicated to them not to say anything and herded them outside the front door.
"Sorry, boys, but there's been too many curiosity-seekers around today. Only ones allowed to see the prisoner are the attorney and the Doc because Digger's feeling poorly. Besides, I don't want the prisoner to hear what's going on."
"What is going on?" asked Heyes in genuine interest.
"Last night my deputies traveled over to the Dark Star Ranch to arrest Ostin Justice and to find out which hands were in on it with him. My boys informed Justice that Preston had been arrested and that Preston had implicated him as an accomplice. He gave up easily. I figured he didn't expect to be caught. He admitted his part in the rustling. Then he named five of the Dark Star hands who had helped him steal the cattle."
"Did he say exactly how they did it?"
"That he did. Either Preston rode over to the Dark Star or Ostin rode over to the Diamond D to exchange information every day. Since they were friends, nobody suspected anything. Ostin also pretended to be the Keitners' friend, too. So no one suspected anything because they had covered their tracks well. Ostin had recruited five Dark Star hands to work with them and together they were able to steal a large number of cows, a few at a time."
"Which they then sold and split the profits."
"Exactly. The men re-branded the cows with a brand that fit over the old one and changed it so they looked like standard stock. They produced fake papers and sold the cows at top dollar. But, Smith, this is the part that puzzles me." The Sheriff took off his hat and scratched his head. Heyes and Curry waited for him to continue. "Everyone involved – Preston, Justice, the five hands – they all said the same thing. The profits were split between Justice and the hands. Digger Preston got nothing out of it!"
Heyes and Curry exchanged a mystified look.
The Kid offered, "Maybe Preston thinks he can get a reduced sentence if he can convince a judge that he wasn't in it for the profit."
"That's exactly what he thinks," continued the Sheriff. "But I told him it would do no good. The laws governing cattle rustling are the same whether or not they make a profit off it. But he still says the same thing – he didn't get any money from the sale of the cows. So naturally that makes me wonder what he did get out of it. But he's not saying. And Justice and the Dark Star hands don't seem to know or care."
"Does he have an attorney?"
"He does – the only one in town. But he's already visited Preston in his cell this morning and I overheard. Preston isn't telling him, either."
"Maybe if I talked to him, Sheriff . . ."
"I don't really want you doing that. He's been mostly cooperative so far, but he seems to harbor a grudge against you two fellas. Undoubtedly since Jones here is responsible for his arrest."
The Kid smiled. The Sheriff continued, "Last night, if you hadn't moved the way you did, I'd be talking with two dead corpses right now! But come on back inside anyhow," he said, opening the door for them. "I'll need you two to swear out statements that he tried to kill you."
As they were filling out the necessary paperwork, the Kid asked the Sheriff where Ostin Justice and the rest of the arrested Dark Star Ranch employees were. The Sheriff told him that they were all being kept in confinement in jail in Breton, the next town, since there was only one jail in this Sheriff's office and he didn't want collusion between prisoners. When the Kid looked puzzled, he explained that he didn't want them conspiring together so they could make their stories jibe. "Oh, by the way, he added. "One of them had a gunshot wound in his side. He's being cared for by the doctor over in Breton now. Looks like you did nick one of them the other night after all, Jones."
The Sheriff thanked them again before they left. As they stepped outside, Heyes had a strange feeling that the Sheriff was staring at them. He looked back and confirmed it. But he let it pass.
Heyes slapped the Kid on the back. "C'mon, hero, I'll buy you a drink. Even lunch."
They sat down at a table in the nearest saloon and ordered two beers and two meatloaf dinners. The Kid protested since he felt that they should save their money now that they were out of jobs, but Heyes said he felt like rewarding the Kid for saving his life. "Besides," said Heyes as they were talking over swallows of their beers, "we're not out of a job yet. We still have to find out who killed Mr. Keitner."
The Kid choked on his beer. "What on earth is the matter with you? You can't let sleeping dogs lie? Keitner wasn't killed, Heyes. He died of a bad heart."
Heyes kept calm to keep his partner from steaming up. "There are one or two little mysteries that aren't solved yet, Kid, and they fit right in with these cattle thefts. I think the stealing and his death are related. And that makes it an unnatural death."
They stopped talking while the bartender set the plates down in front of them and waited until he was out of earshot. Heyes then continued. "Why was Ostin Justice pretending to be the Keitners' friend? What good did that do? Did he kill Keitner? And what exactly did Digger Preston get out of all this if not money? Did he kill Keitner? Was there some kind of grudge there? And what about this? What about the Dark Star hand who you shot on that first night? The Sheriff said the doctor in Breton is caring for him now. Did he wait this long to get help? And what about Amity Keitner? Why is she always wearing bright colors when she's supposed to be in mourning?"
The Kid had listened thoughtfully and respectfully since he trusted his partner's instincts, but it was more than he was willing to consider. "I don't know, Heyes. I – just – don't – know. And it hurts my head to think about it. I'm just happy I won't be getting shot at anymore."
Heyes suddenly remembered the way the Sheriff had been looking at them. "And what about this Sheriff? Do you think he knows who we are?"
"What?! Heyes, don't you ever let that brain of yours rest? Just let me eat my meal in peace, please."
Heyes became quiet and thoughtful as they both ate their lunches. When they were done, the Kid was in a much better frame of mind. "Think I'll ride back to the ranch," he said. "We'll have to be around for the trial, so maybe Amity will let us stay there for nothing. Beats having to pay for a hotel."
"You do that," said Heyes. "Think I'm going to . . . stay around here a while. Meet you back at the ranch later."
Heyes and the Kid took off in two different directions, the Kid toward the Diamond D and Heyes to the southwest. To Breton. On the way, he formulated a plan.
The first thing he did was introduce himself to the local Sheriff and ask if he could see the prisoners. But, just like the Sheriff in Cranston, he was refused visitation. Heyes saw nothing nefarious in that – it was fairly common practice for lawmen to limit the number of visitors their prisoners had, and this Sheriff did not know Heyes from Adam. Heyes then exchanged information with the Sheriff, but learned nothing he did not already know.
The next order of business was a trip to the local doctor's office. Heyes introduced himself there as well.
"Nice to meet you, young man. I'm Doc Dammler," said the doctor, shaking Heyes's hand. "What can I do for you?"
"I understand you're treating one of the Sheriff's prisoners for a gunshot wound to the side."
"I am. You wouldn't be responsible for that, would you? The deputies who brought him in said the men who were hired to find the Diamond D cattle thieves shot this man."
"No, but you're close. It was my partner. I'm trying to tie up some loose ends now, Doc. Maybe you can help me. How bad is this man's wound?"
"Oh, he'll be fine. He's recovering now, nicely."
"Didn't you dig out the bullet yourself?"
"Not me. He must've gotten someone else to do it. If it hadn't been done right away, this man might be dead now."
"Then who did it if it wasn't you?"
"Could have been someone at the Dark Star. If anyone there knows doctoring." He shook his head. "No, I don't think so. That looked like it was done by a professional medical man. Probably Doc Kirkland over at Cranston."
Before he had even finished his sentence, Heyes had bolted out of the office.
Heyes rode at a dead gallop back to Cranston. He immediately barged through the Sheriff's door and was met with a puzzling sight. Digger Preston was still in his cell, but he was doubled over in pain. Doc Kirkland was in the cell with him, holding a spoon and trying to get Preston to swallow some medicine. The Sheriff was standing outside the open cell, looking concerned at the sudden serious illness of his prisoner.
"Stop him!" yelled Heyes. All three men looked at him in surprise.
The doctor recovered quickly and forced Preston's mouth open with one hand while trying to force the medicine down his throat with the other. "Stop!" yelled Heyes again, running toward the cell. This time the Sheriff understood and grabbed the spoon away from the doctor. Doc Kirkland jumped up, rather quickly for a rotund man, and bolted out the cell door. Heyes intervened and shoved him hard to prevent him from escaping through the front door. The doctor fell into the Sheriff's chair. When he attempted to get up, Heyes drew his gun and motioned to him to get used to the chair.
"All right, Smith, put the gun down," said the Sheriff, drawing his own gun and relieving Heyes of his. "Now what's this all about?"
"Don't point that shooter at me, Sheriff," said Heyes, pointing to Doc Kirkland. "There's the man you should be aiming at – the man who killed Ambrose Keitner!"
The doctor swore. In his cell, Digger Preston threw up.
In the library of the main ranch house at the Diamond D Ranch, Aaron Johnston found himself feeling faint and having to suddenly sit down. "I don't believe it!" he said in astonishment. "I simply don't believe it!"
"It's true enough, Johnston," the Sheriff told him. "They've all signed confessions. They'll be in prison for a long, long time. Or worse."
"I'm sorry, Aaron," said Heyes, patting him softly on the shoulder. "I know this must be hard news to take."
"Yes, it . . . oh, who's going to tell Mrs. Keitner?"
"Maybe I should be the one," said the Sheriff.
"Tell me what?" came the perfumed voice of Amity Keitner from just outside the open library door. Today she was particularly stunning in a dress of bright blue. The omnipresent black shawl was around her shoulders. Everyone in the room – Hannibal Heyes, Kid Curry, Aaron Johnston and the Sheriff – were all surprised by her sudden appearance.
It was the Kid who stepped forward and took her arm to guide her to a chair. In the softest voice Heyes had ever heard him use, the Kid told Amity, "There is something you should know, and it will be a hard thing to hear. I'm not even sure how to say this, but . . ."
"Thaddeus," came the heavy Southern accent, "you are going to talk about my husband, aren't you?"
"Yes," he almost whispered. "I'm truly sorry, Amity, but I have to tell you that your husband did not die a natural death. He was murdered." He stopped to allow her to recover herself, but he did not have long to wait. Amity Keitner was a powerful woman in many ways, and unwilling to display strong emotion.
"Pray continue," she said.
"The cattle thefts were tied in. We talked to the two foremen and to the other men involved and we were able to piece together what happened." The Kid spoke softly and slowly, trying very hard not to upset her unnecessarily. He took a deep breath. "Doctor Kirkland was the person who kill . . . was responsible for your husband's death."
This did surprise her. "Doctor Kirkland? The doctor in Cranston? Whatever for? I thought you were going to tell me that Digger . . . or Ostin . . . Why, the doctor did everything in his power to help Ambrose through all his troubles."
The Kid continued to speak steadily, even though the Sheriff tried to interrupt. "No, Amity, he didn't. The Doc was hoping to gain something from all this – you!"
"Me!"
"When you and Mr. Keitner moved into the area, the doctor was among the first to come to the ranch to visit you. Do you remember?"
"Why, yes, I suppose so."
"He claims that he fell in love with you the first time he saw you."
She put her hand to her throat. "Thaddeus! No!"
"And he claims that he was hoping to win you for himself. But you were married. And you were in love with your husband. So he came up with a plan. He planned to poison . . ."
She gasped.
". . . your husband. Slowly, over time. Not all at once. It had to look like Mr. Keitner was ailing from something else. Being a doctor, Kirkland had a number of . . . poisons . . . within reach. He said he decided to use arsenic because it would produce a number of symptoms. And make it look like your husband could be suffering from any number of conditions."
The Sheriff looked like he was about to say something but the ever-attentive Hannibal Heyes stopped him with a small shake of his head.
Thaddeus took a deep breath. "With each trip he made to the ranch to attend to your husband, he administered more poison. Over time, the arsenic did the job. And he was never suspected because Mr. Keitner died of a heart attack. Brought on, though, by the poison."
Amity shook her head back and forth slowly. "He was a strong man. I am . . . distressed. This is so very . . . hard . . . to . . ." She wiped a single tear from her eye. No one said anything. The Kid felt tears in his own eyes. After a moment, she spoke. "But I do not understand what role the cattle thefts played in this . . . this . . . scenario."
The Kid needed a moment to compose himself, so the Sheriff continued the story. "Kirkland was hoping to win you over, Amity, by being your friend first. Then when your husband was gone, he would move in and be there for you. The unsuspecting widow. That was his plan. He wanted you and he wanted the ranch, too. Marrying you was the only way. Doc Kirkland felt that no one would suspect poison if your husband was constantly worrying about something. So he secretly hired your foreman, Digger Preston, to find a way to cause havoc. Preston hired his friend Ostin Justice, the foreman at the Dark Star Ranch, to steal some cattle. The idea was to continually take a few cows each day. Justice found five hired hands to assist him and he found the thieving business lucrative. Not only did they get paid by Preston, but they got double payment by selling top beef. Preston was a trusted employee here, but he was telling the Dark Star foreman where the cows would be kept each time they were moved."
Heyes finally spoke. "There's something more, Amity. The 'good' doctor got to Preston in jail and tried to poison him, too."
"That's right," continued the Sheriff. "He figured no one would implicate him if there was no one around to talk about it. He poisoned the food in the first meal Preston ate in jail and then came with more arsenic while pretending to doctor him. If it wasn't for Smith here, he might have been able to do it. As it is, Preston has been more than willing to talk since."
Amity Keitner had listened to everything with great dignity. She now stood up and appeared to be much taller than she actually was. She held her back straight and focused her eyes on each and every man in the room as she spoke to them. "Thank you, Thaddeus, Joshua, Sheriff. Mr. Johnston, I will be resting for the remainder of the day. I leave the ranch in your capable hands during this time. Tomorrow . . . tomorrow I will resume my participation in the management. Gentlemen, I take leave of you now."
With grave decorum, she swept out of the room. She left behind four very admiring men.
Aaron Johnston said, "Good day, gentlemen" as if he were exhausted, and he left also.
"Well, I guess I'd better be getting back," said the Sheriff as he left the room.
Heyes gently laid a hand on the Kid's shoulder. "You're a good guy, Kid Curry. A good guy. I'm proud to be your partner."
The Kid smiled sheepishly. Verbal accolades from his friend were rare. "Thanks, Heyes."
But the Sheriff had not actually left the house. And, yes, he overheard them.
He came back into the room. "I want a word with you two, Smith, Jones," he said sternly.
Heyes and the Kid froze. They knew they had been overheard. They knew they had spoken each other's real names aloud. They knew they were in serious trouble. The Kid's right hand unconsciously removed the safety from his gun. Both of them stared at the Sheriff.
"I haven't had the chance to thank you two yet for what you did," said the Sheriff. "First you, Jones, for what you did to solve the cattle rustling. Then you, Smith, for figuring out that Ambrose Keitner was murdered and finding the murderer. And then stopping the murder of a second man. You've made my job a lot easier. My reelection looks good thanks to the two of you. I owe you more than you know."
Both Heyes and the Kid breathed a lot easier after this short speech. They both visibly relaxed. The Kid put the safety back on his gun. They looked at each other with grateful smiles.
The Sheriff continued, "So all that makes what I have to say to you that much harder. I want you both out of my county by sunup tomorrow morning."
Heyes tensed up again and lifted his head to look down on the sheriff. "Why would that be, Sheriff?" he asked slowly and cautiously. He felt the Kid near him on edge again, too.
"Because I don't want two well- known outlaws anywhere near my jurisdiction. Does that spell it out for you?"
"I'm not sure," said Heyes breathlessly.
The Sheriff lowered his voice to a whisper. "I've known you were Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry since you came into my office, Heyes, and tried to keep me from seeing the wanted poster. It wasn't necessary, you know. I have them all memorized." He gave a little laugh.
"Why are you letting us go?" the Kid wanted to know.
"I'm not letting you go, I'm making you go. I'm beholden to you for what you did, but if you stick around here, I'm going to have to arrest you. That would make me look mighty good, too, you know."
"Why didn't you arrest us earlier then, Sheriff, before we helped you out? If you knew who we . . ."
The Sheriff smiled. "Neither one of you ever asked me my name. I have one, you know. It's Clitterhouse. Carl Clitterhouse. You had dealings with my brother Curt once, and I know you came out on the wrong end of them. My brother is the black sheep in our family. This is my chance to right a wrong. Now do you understand?"
"Sheriff," said the Kid, breathing a sigh of relief, "you're a kind and generous man."
"Remember, now, sunup tomorrow. Stop by my office to sign a statement. We'll use that at the trial and you won't have to make an appearance. Then leave." The Sheriff tipped his hat and left.
Curry and Heyes looked at each other for a long time before either of them spoke.
"I'm still proud of you, Kid," said Heyes.
And they both laughed and slapped each other on the back.
Early the next morning, as they were saddling their horses, they suddenly noticed Amity Keitner standing nearby, waiting to talk with them. They turned their attention to her. This is the first day she was actually wearing a black dress.
"Mr. Johnston has informed me that you both have decided to move on. He tells me he settled your salaries this morning; is that correct?"
"Yes, ma'am," said both the Kid and Heyes.
"However, it is true," she continued, "that the Diamond D Ranch owes you much more than the trifling amount Mr. Johnston bestowed upon you."
"Not really," said Heyes. "He paid us what was agreed when we hired on."
"Please accept this," she said to Heyes, handing him $2000 in hundred-dollar bills. "Please consider this a bonus. If you won't accept it from the Diamond D, please accept it on behalf of a widow who now knows the truth about how her husband died. That means so much more to me than you can imagine."
"No," said an astounded Kid. "We can't . . ."
"You must." She closed Heyes's hand with her own around the money and squeezed gently. In spite of himself, Heyes blushed. She looked deeply into his eyes, the same way she had looked at the Kid at their first meeting. "I will never be able to tell you how much I appreciate all you have done. I had thought all along that there was something dreadfully . . . wrong . . . about the way my husband was suffering. He had always been strong, and to suddenly be susceptible to a number of ailments was so very inexplicable. However, it never crossed my mind that poison was at the root of it. I know my husband had enemies, but he seemed to be suffering without outside help." She finally let go of Heyes's hand and turned to the Kid. "So thank you, gentlemen, very much, for all you have done for me. You will always be welcome at the Diamond D Ranch should you ever decide to return." And with that, she turned and sashayed back to the house.
It took Heyes a minute to come to his senses, and when he did, he saw the Kid staring at him with a smile on his face.
"Why, Mr. Heyes," said the Kid in a fake Southern accent, "I do believe you're blushing."
"Blu . . .!" The Kid got The Look again.
But the Kid was laughing and never saw it. "Ho, ho! She really does have a way of looking at a man, doesn't she?"
Heyes looked back at the house, then put his arm around the Kid's shoulders as a way of saying it was time to move on. Mercifully, except for some snickering, the Kid was quiet. They mounted up and rode away from the Diamond D Ranch.
After a moment, Heyes said, "You know, Kid, I think I've finally figured out why Amity wore all those bright colors."
"Me, too, Heyes. She's a tease. And I fell for it, and you fell for it, and Aaron falls for it, and the doctor falls . . ."
"No, Kid, it's more than that. You noticed today she wore black – more traditional for a widow. Every other day we saw her she was in bright colors. I think the reason is that she finally understands now that her husband has died and exactly how. I think she was just mixed up about it before. Maybe not willing to accept that he was gone. Because it was . . . inexplicable, as she says."
The Kid thought about that for a moment. "Yeah, maybe you're right. But there's more than just a little tease in Amity Keitner. And you fell for it!"
Embarrassed, Heyes snickered sheepishly. "I guess you're right, too. She was a tease. And I guess I liked being teased!"
"Good! Because I plan on spending a lot of time teasing you!" The Kid laughed heartily.
Heyes started to give him The Look again, then he began to laugh, too.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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