Bronc stared back at him without responding. The silent moments seemed loud. Then Bronc shrugged. "We got grazing rights to this whole valley. Cattle need a lot of space in land like this."
"I expect so," Julio said.
Col spoke for the first time. "Did you know Juan?"
Bronc turned his head to stare at Col. "The old shepherd here before you?"
Col nodded.
"He moved off kinda quick, didn't he?" Bronc squinted an eye at him.
"We never did know why," Julio said.
"Likely the territory didn't agree with him."
"We did wonder why he left so suddenly." Col pursued the matter.
Bronc showed a mirthless grin. "Lots of things in the desert can spook a man. You boys need to be careful. Everything around you has sharp teeth or thorns or is poisonous."
"Thanks for the warning," Julio said.
Bronc stood, poured the remains of his coffee into the fire, handed the cup to Julio.
"Appreciate the coffee, boys." He started to walk away, turned back. "Say, did the old shepherd leave any stuff behind? He had some papers of mine, I wondered if he left them for me."
"Papers?" Col asked.
"Yeah, papers." Bronc eyed Col, watched him close.
"He didn't leave anything behind at all," Col said.
Bronc stared a moment longer, turned and walked toward his horse. A moment later they heard hoof beats moving off toward the draw.
Julio and Col looked at each other.
"We need to watch our backs around that man," Julio said.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It seemed to Zack he had just dozed off when something large and wet sloshed across his face. He ducked away from a second Big Blue kiss and sat up in his bed, sputtering. Susan broke into gales of laughter. Even Eagle Feather was grinning.
"Time to rise and shine, sleepy boy. It is time for dinner at the Wagon Wheel."
"I expected to meet you there."
"We never agreed on a time, so we came here to pick you up," Susan said.
Zack stretched, stood, straightened out his clothing. "How about you all ride with me in the loaner car so we can go pick up the Jeep."
They left Blue stretched out on Zack's bed. It took just minutes to reclaim the fully inflated vehicle. Minutes later they were seated in one of the few booths still available at the Wagon Wheel. They ordered drinks.
Susan looked at Zack. "So, what's new?"
"I met the private eye today."
Eagle Feather looked puzzled. "What private eye?"
Susan answered. "Tav told us there was a private cop involved, hired by the Kellogg Ranch."
"Interesting character, name of Jones, shared a bit about Hatchett and his involvement in the case with me." Zack went on to relate what he had learned.
Susan's eyes glowed with excitement. "So that's the map the boy mentioned in his journal."
"Apparently. It couldn't be the original, of course, it has to be whatever Old Juan drew up."
"Did any of the investigators find a map?"
Zack shrugged. "I don't know. I've arranged to meet with Short after we eat. You two are welcome to come along."
"It doesn't seem likely," Eagle Feather said.
"What?"
"It doesn't seem likely any investigators found a map. We'd have heard about it."
Zack nodded. "Maybe."
"Unless one of them found it and kept it to himself," Susan said.
Zack put palms up. "Let's put the map aside for the moment. I'd like to get your thoughts on what we've learned so far. Give me a scenario."
His two friends pondered. Their drinks arrived and they clinked glasses in a silent toast.
Susan was ready first. "Everything points to hidden treasure," she said, eyes glistening. "Bronc is the link. He's there when Hatchett finds the original map, probably has his own outlaw connections so he knows the buried loot story is authentic. He watches Hatchet, sees him go to Old Juan's camp. He somehow learns Juan has tried to buy tools for digging, goes to visit the old shepherd but fails to find a map. He's probably non-too gentle, likely precipitated Juan's departure. He believes the map is hidden somewhere in the camp, keeps an eye on the two young shepherds when they arrive. When they begin to show an interest in Hidden Springs, he watches them closely. Finally, afraid they might find the loot before he can, he murders them and returns to their camp to search for the map, but fails."
Susan grinned at her companions. "There! How's that?"
Zack smiled. "Not bad. Quite exciting, really; buried treasure, murders––where's the dragon and the beautiful maiden?"
Susan's spirits would not be dampened. "They'll turn up, sooner or later."
Zack looked at Eagle Feather.
The Navajo coughed, and began. "This is an old dispute involving sheep, cattle and water, nothing more. Bronc is very loyal to Hatchett. He was with him during the sheep and cattle wars. When he sees the two shepherd boys measuring distances around Hidden Springs, the critical watering place for the Kellogg herd, he thinks they plan to bring down their sheep, an act he sees as hostile. One day he uses his rifle and ends the threat." Eagle Feather looked at Susan. "No more, no less."
Susan pouted, shook her head.
"Neither of you have explained the mystery of how the two boys died."
Eagle Feather shrugged. "What is not apparent now will be soon enough."
Susan glanced at him. "That's a major cop-out." She grinned at Zack. "This is where the dragon comes in. One dark night––"
"Okay, okay, enough," Zack said.
The waitress appeared at his shoulder. "Are you folks ready to order?"
"Oh, yes, thank God." Zack placed his order, and the others followed. The waitress hurried off.
"As fanciful, and again mundane as your two theories are, I think there may be elements of truth in both. Somehow, they fit together. Maybe our meeting with Butch Short will shed more light."
Zack glanced at Susan as she ate. Her energy, her unquenchable good humor turned his thoughts to his estranged wife. They had been like that once, each revitalizing the other. Every moment was a precursor to something new and exciting. What had happened? Libby's objections had been about the dangers of his job, to him as well as to his family. Zack couldn't simply dismiss her fears; they were well founded. Yet until little Bernie came along, Libby had involved herself in many of his cases. An extraordinarily strong and self-sufficient woman, she had never shied from danger. But a baby changed all that.
Butch Short was waiting for them in his office. He nodded toward the empty chairs. When they had all taken a seat and greetings were exchanged, he spread his palms apart. "So, what's the consensus?"
Zack chuckled. "We have two scenarios, quite far apart. They have one commonality: they favor Bronc for the shooter."
"Motive?"
"That's where they differ. One says hidden treasure, the other a cattle vs. sheep feud."
"What's this hidden treasure idea about?"
Zack told him about his conversation with Bob Jones.
Short crossed his arms, leaned back and regarded them. "I could go with either motive. As for Bronc, well, he's a pretty easy target. He's got a lot of rough edges."
"He's also got opportunity, motive, and access to the crime scene," Zack said.
"So does just about anyone who lives out there. It's gonna be hard for a guy who works by himself out on the range all day to establish an alibi."
"It will be equally hard to prove anything against him," Susan pointed out.
"What's our next step?" Short asked.
"We believe the shepherds would have had at least one rifle between them, but no rifle was ever found." Zack raised his eyebrows. "Am I right?"
Short nodded.
"We propose to search gun shops, second hand stores, pawn shops, anywhere a rifle might have been sold or dispensed with. Maybe a shopkeeper will remember who sold it. We could get lucky."
"I can help you with that," Sh
ort said. "But why wouldn't the murderer simply keep it?"
Eagle Feather eyed Short. "Would you keep the rifle of a man you just murdered?"
"Uh, no, I don't guess I would. But I might bury it."
"If he buried it, Blue will find it," Zack said. "By the way, I expect you've had a chance to chat with the other investigators."
Short leaned forward, moved some sticky notes to the center of his desk, looked at them "Sure did. I got to tell you, none of 'em are happy we might have a murder case." He glanced around, was met with silent stares. "Anyway, Connolly and the other guys at the County Sheriff's office are happy with your progress. My bosses are pushing for resolution, the sooner, the better." He peered at another note, looked up. "Seems like Tav is tickled to death by what you've accomplished so far." He looked up at Zack. "I haven't had contact with that private cop."
"He's following the treasure theory, mostly. He thinks Bronc might be responsible for the old shepherd's disappearance, but that's as far as he went," Zack said.
Short's eyebrows shot up. "He suspects foul play with Old Juan?"
Zack shrugged. "Maybe, or maybe Bronc just scared him off."
Short's eyes narrowed. "If this private dick, this..."
"Bob Jones," Zack said.
"If this Bob Jones finds out something, are we gonna hear about it?"
"We struck a deal," Zack said. "I'm pretty sure he'll honor it. He wants to keep track of where I'm going, so he'll trade."
Susan glanced at Zack as they stepped off the wide porch of the BLM building. Heat still radiated off the asphalt parking lot. "What's our next move? I know you've got more in mind than checking hock shops for rifles."
Zack's lip twitched. "You've got me pretty well figured. I'd like to take another look around the sheep camp. I can't help but feel we missed something there. I agree with your thought the boys were working from a map. What happened to it? And how did they come across it?" He glanced at Eagle Feather.
"I wish to take another look at the crime scene. There is something bothering me about that place," the Navajo said.
Susan gave them both a sly smile. "If there is a treasure out there, it came from somewhere. I'll go to the local library and jump on the Internet, see if I can find out anything about it."
They parted at the motel. Eagle Feather and Zack would take Blue and the Jeep and head out early the next morning for the Preserve. Susan planned to spend some time on her computer, catch up on her business Emails, and later visit the local library.
Zack was dead tired. When he carded his door it seemed to push open even before the click. He paused. So that's how Susan and Eagle Feather got in this morning, he thought. He tossed his hat on the bed, shrugged off his jacket. The wardrobe was a stand-alone unit, with drawers on one side, a hanging rod in the other with a shelf at eye level. His jacket in one hand, Zack pulled the wardrobe door open with the other. In that millisecond his eye caught movement on the shelf; something had coiled, constricted, tensed. He heard a dry rattle. His brain registered the bunched face, beady black eyes, and poised head of a rattlesnake.
CHAPTER TWENTY
After Bronc had gone, and after the breakfast utensils were washed and stored, Julio and Col mounted up and rode down the slope to the sheep pasture. The dogs rushed to greet them, tails wagging, tongues lolling. The sheep had grazed eastward as they exhausted the greener, softer vegetation.
The boys dismounted. Col had a biscuit for each dog, as he always did, and the animals came to sit near their masters while the young men surveyed the sheep.
Julio pointed. "That yearling is still limping."
"He seems to be doing better, though."
Each shepherd's eyes tallied the sheep, inspected each, one by one, the ritual at a subconscious level by now. The morning was warm, the boys felt dozy, letting down from the anxious meeting with Bronc. The sound of hoofs from behind caught them by surprise.
The boys spun, their eyes widened when they recognized the rider working down the slope toward them. It was Kella Darnell.
Kella wore a mischievous smile on her face. She rode up and dismounted. "You look surprised to see me."
"Well, yah," Julio said.
Col said nothing, simply stared.
In the weeks after they established the camp, Frank Darnell had driven over several times, once or twice with Debby and her fresh pies and strudel, and often with Kella. The girl's relationship with Col had grown. There were no more pretexts on her part; she enjoyed Julio's friendship but her feelings for Col were of a different nature. They grew closer with each visit. Col often pinched himself to believe it was real and languished like a puppy in her absence. This was the first time she had come alone on horseback.
Kella went to Col and gave him a big hug and a quick kiss, and turned to Julio and hugged him. She laughed at Col's look of amazement.
"Dad let me ride over to visit for a day. I have to return tomorrow."
"That's a long way. How long did it take you?" Julio asked.
"It's about a day's ride."
"But..." Col still couldn't get his mind around it. "It's morning. Did you ride through the night?"
"No, silly. I camped out." She saw the faces of both boys. "Don't look so shocked. I've camped out alone in these hills for years. My parents know I can take care of myself." She laughed. "You boys spent too much time in the city." Her eyes narrowed. "Or is it a gender thing?"
Both boys threw up their arms, shaking their heads in denial. Everyone laughed.
"I don't care," Col said. "I'm just happy to see you."
Julio's expression turned solemn. "You didn't cross paths with that Bronc character, did you? I'd worry more about him than a sidewinder or a scorpion."
"No, I didn't see him. Why?" Kella saw both boys wore a serious look. "Did something happen?"
Col described the morning encounter. "We found the man coming out of our tent."
"I don't trust him," Kella said. "My dad ran into him several times when he came here to check on Old Juan for your uncle. He said he always wished he'd carried a rifle those times. He said Bronc reminded him of a coiled rattlesnake."
Col gave Kella an inquisitive look. "He said something funny just as he left. He asked us if Juan had left any papers behind."
"Do you know why Juan would leave any papers?" Julio asked.
Kella shook her head. "I can't imagine."
"You remember the camp when we first arrived. There was absolutely nothing here. Juan had packed and gone, lock, stock and barrel." Julio gave a shrug.
"I heard he vanished virtually overnight," Kella said.
"He never said a word to my uncle." Julio glanced from one to the other.
Col shook his head in bewilderment. "We've found signs of Old Juan everywhere around here: enclosures made with stone, dams on creek runoffs to water the sheep, old picket lines, trenches. He seems like a careful, methodical man who cared about his job, not a fly-by-night."
"It's a mystery." Julio reached down for a pebble and tossed it. "Here we have this hard-working conscientious man who just evaporates. Then we have this strange visit from Bronc, asking if he left anything behind."
"Maybe he did."
Kella and Julio looked at Col.
"Maybe Old Juan had something Bronc wants, like cash, or a deed, or..." Col struggled to think what else.
"Maybe a map to something hidden or buried, like a treasure map," Kella finished for him, grinning.
"Or a treasure map," Col said, and grinned back.
"Why don't we do a search?" Kella grew excited. "We can have our own treasure hunt."
Julio was doubtful. "We've looked this area over very thoroughly since we arrived."
"Yes, but you weren't looking for something specific, like a treasure map."
Col chuckled. "It would be fun."
"How could any papers still be here? They'd be destroyed or be part of a bird's nest by now."
Col nudged Julio. "Come on, grumpy. You never know. Old Juan cou
ld have buried something in a cigar tin."
Julio shrugged, put up both arms in surrender. "Okay." He turned to Kella, gave a mock bow. "Lead on, Omniscient One."
Leaving the dogs to guard the sheep, the three rode west to the place they had first found remnants of Old Juan's camp. He had set up on a sheltered slope near an area of alkali playa close to the boys' current camp. Col and Julio had made use of some of the stone pens until the sheep migrated. There were large boulders scattered about, and the original trenching from Juan's tent remained. The trio left their horses to graze, and wandered about near the old encampment.
"What are we looking for?" Julio asked.
Kella's eyes roamed the ground. "If we suppose he hid papers, he must have put them in a cylinder or a box of some kind. I think we can assume Bronc has searched the area, so Juan didn't leave a container around in plain sight. He would most likely have buried it. I intend to look for an area of disturbed dirt."
"Makes sense to me," Col said. "Let's spread out and work outward from the camp."
They divided the search area into three quadrants and began. There were several false alarms almost immediately––rodent burrows, places scratched by coyotes looking for grubs, and other natural disturbances that seemed likely places. They found sticks to dig with and to use as probes in case a snake was sheltering in a crevice where they looked. After an hour their search perimeter had moved a hundred feet out from the campsite.
Julio called a halt to rest and talk it over. The sun was hot on their bent backs and progress snail-like. Kella passed around her water bottle.
Sweat trickled down Col's face. "We can't cover every square foot of ground. It will just take too long."
Julio agreed with a nod.
"Maybe we should try to think like Old Juan might have thought," Kella said. Her face was red and dotted with perspiration but her spirits seemed un-dampened. "If he didn't bury the container near his camp, how would he have decided where to hide it?"
Col stood with hands on hips and cast his eyes at the surrounding area while stretching his aching back. Below them, the salt bed of the alkaline playa glistened. Beyond it to the west, the mountainside sloped toward Watson Wash. Nearer them, scattered juniper and pinyon opened up to an expanse of cactus and yucca, with tumbled boulders scattered here and there like marbles.
Under Desert Sand Page 11
