by C. J. Petit
Jake only wished that he’d been as proud of his son.
CHAPTER 4
Jake turned Vulcan left off the ranch’s access road and had to dip his hat to block the glaring sun as he rode east to Fort Benton. It had been a surprisingly routine start to his last Monday on the Elk for a while. The boys had resumed workday conversation after Dave assigned them their jobs. Dave hadn’t even mentioned Jake’s pending departure, which was further evidence that he’d ended his campaign to have him stay. None of the men had even joked with him about Sara, which was a bit unexpected.
He knew that Jerome Wright didn’t open his office until nine o’clock, so he had plenty of time to spend at Sam Bannister’s shop, although it was much larger than what most folks considered a shop. Three years ago, Sam had his two sons and another gunsmith working for him and provided firearms and ammunition for a good part of Montana Territory and some of Dakota Territory as well. He supplied the riverboats as well, and even as the riverboat traffic began to wane, Jake didn’t believe that Sam lost many customers. Jake was more than sufficiently armed for the journey but would enjoy filling the time in gun paradise before visiting Mister Wright.
He entered Fort Benton’s main street a few minutes later and smiled as he passed Finney’s Restaurant where he’d take Sara to lunch in a few hours. After passing her father’s feed & grain store, he continued until he was close to the docks where he pulled Vulcan to a stop before S.D. Bannister Firearms. As he stepped down, he wondered why Sam had never added the almost automatic ‘& Sons’. He was certainly proud of both of his boys. When he enlisted, Joe and Ed were both apprentices, so Jake assumed they were now qualified gunsmiths.
After tying off his new horse, Jake entered the open door and smiled when he saw Sam and Joe behind the counter. Joe was almost as tall as his father now, and except for the smooth chin, was almost a young copy. Despite the early hour, the shop had a dozen customers, and Joe and Sam were busy with two of them. He had plenty of time, so he turned down the first aisle to the back of the store with its shelves of ammunition.
He selected two boxes of the .45 Long Colts for his pistol then had to search a little longer for the .45-75 Winchester Express cartridges. When he found them, he grabbed four and added them to his growing stack.
He was about to head to the counter when he decided to see if he could find more ammunition for the Sharps. He knew that he had more than enough for the journey, but if he found any, he’d buy them for future use. Jake had been very impressed with the Sharps and expected that when he returned and began using it for target practice, he’d have to let the boys take a few shots. He wasn’t going to search for the even rarer ammunition for the Martini-Henry, but if he found a box, he’d add it to his load.
He was pleased but not surprised to find eight boxes of Sharps 45-100 and stacked four of the heavy packs onto his other ammunition. His arms were beginning to cramp with the weight, but he still sidestepped along the back wall and almost hoped that Sam didn’t have any Martini-Henry ammunition in stock. Unfortunately, there were two of the wooden containers marked Martini-Henry .577/450. He opened one to be sure that he understood the marking referred to the diameter of the breech and not the rifle barrel. After seeing the same tapered cartridges, he closed the lid. He should have let them sit because he doubted if they’d be sold while he was gone, but he reluctantly slid one then the second onto his teetering tower of ammunition.
He waddled as quickly as he dared to the front of the store drawing grins from other customers as he passed. Before he reached the welcome flat surface, Joe Bannister saw him and rushed around the counter.
Jake spotted him, so he stopped twenty feet in front of Sam who was smiling from behind the counter. Joe began lightening his load by taking the Martini-Henry ammunition and after he added the Sharps cartridges, said, “Lordy, Jake! I thought you were going to fall over.”
“It was close, Joe,” Jake replied as Joe turned back to the counter and Jake followed.
After the ammunition was stacked on the counter and Joe had stepped to the other side, Sam said, “I heard you were back, Jake. We were all really saddened by what happened. Your mother was a special lady.”
“She was very special, Sam.”
“I also heard that you were planning to chase down your father. Is that why your stocking up on ammunition?”
“Partly. Some of it is just because I wanted to have it on the ranch when I return. I hope I don’t have to use a single bullet when I find my father, but it’s hostile country out there and I don’t know how long it will take me to find him.”
Sam nodded then said, “You can never have too much ammunition.”
Then Joe grinned as he asked, “Is the gossip about you and Sara Smith getting hitched true?”
Jake was surprised that the news had already reached this far, but immediately realized that he should have expected it.
He smiled back at Joe as he replied, “That’s one rumor that I’m happy to confirm. As soon as I get back, we’ll have a quick courtship before we marry.”
“A lot of fellers will be disappointed to hear that Sara is spoken for. You’ve only been back a few days, so when did you propose?”
Jake laughed before saying, “I wasn’t the one to propose, Joe. Sara made her intentions clear on Saturday. I can’t say that I didn’t think about it after meeting her on Friday, either.”
Sam said, “If you’re going to marry the girl, I can’t understand why you’d bother looking for your father. He’s been gone for more than three weeks and knows the country better than you do. He could be anywhere by now.”
“I know all that, Sam. I still have to go. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t. Besides, if he learns that he hasn’t been charged with anything, he could return as if nothing had happened. I want to find him and hear his excuse for what he did. All I know is that he rode west, so I’m heading that way tomorrow.”
Joe had been adding the dozen boxes of cartridges into a heavy canvas sack, so the counter was almost empty when Jake asked, “How much do I owe you, Sam?”
Sam didn’t need to have Joe remove any ammunition from the sack as he’d automatically been running the total while they spoke, so Sam said, “Thirty-eight dollars and fifty cents. Some of those cartridges are a bit pricey, Jake.”
“It’s not a problem,” Jake replied as he took out his wallet and removed four ten-dollar notes and handed them to the gunsmith.
When Sam opened the cash drawer to get his change, Jake asked, “Where’s Ed?”
Sam handed Jake his dollar and four bits change and replied, “He’s down at the wharf with John Pillow and Willie Jones picking up a shipment.”
Jake stuffed the note and two quarters into his jacket pocket as he took a firm grip on the canvas sack and said, “Tell him I said ‘hello’. I’m sure I’ll see him when I return.”
Sam looked at him and said, “Don’t do anything stupid, Jake.”
“I think I’ve used up my supply of stupid already, but I’ll try to avoid adding to the collection.”
Sam and Joe smiled as Jake dragged the weighty sack from the counter and after it almost yanked him to the floor, carried it out the door. Once outside, he began removing the boxes putting them into his left saddlebag. When he estimated he’d reduced its weight by half, he walked around Vulcan and put the lightened bag into the right saddlebag.
He untied Vulcan, mounted and turned him west to visit Mister Wright. If he hadn’t arrived yet, Jake would wait in his outer office. When he’d left, the attorney didn’t have a clerk, but did have a secretary, so the outer office should be open.
When he entered the outer office five minutes later, he found the secretary already at his desk but had never met the man.
The man behind the desk looked at him and asked, “May I help you?”
“My name is Jake Elliott and I’d like to talk to Mister Wright. Is he in yet?”
“Not yet. But he’s been expecting you. Please have a seat. He
should be here shortly.”
Jake replied, “Thank you,” then as he sat down in one of the four chairs against the back wall facing the secretary, he said, “I haven’t met you before, so I don’t know your name. Have you worked for Mister Wright very long?”
“For two years now. My name is Boyd Rhys. I took over for his previous secretary when he went to Bismarck to clerk for another lawyer. He was upset that Mister Wright wouldn’t help him study for the bar.”
“And you have no ambitions to become an attorney?”
“None at all. I enjoy keeping the office in order.”
Jake nodded but found it difficult to understand why anyone would be satisfied by just sorting files. Lack of ambition wasn’t unusual, but he still couldn’t comprehend the lack of initiative.
For another ten minutes, he sat and just watched Mister Rhys shifting papers from one stack to another. Then he heard footsteps coming down the hall and turned his eyes to the doorway.
Jerome Wright passed into the front office and immediately spotted Jake.
“Jake! I thought you’d be stopping by. Come into my office. I’m sure you have many questions.”
Jake stood and said, “I hope you can answer some of them, Mister Wright.”
The lawyer grinned as he said, “Call me Jerome. You’re my most important client now.”
Jake smiled back before following the attorney into this office and closing the door behind him. He’d been surprised that Mister Wright apparently already considered Jake the owner of the Elk, so maybe he knew more than anyone else about where his father was. Maybe he even heard news that his father had died.
Jake sat in front of Jerome’s dark polished desk as the lawyer took his seat on the other side. Jake’s hat was on his lap when Mister Wright removed his Stetson and set it on his desktop.
“Mister Wright…”
“Jerome.”
“I’m sorry. Jerome, my first question is about the ranch. I’m living in the big ranch house and the boys are already calling me ‘boss’. I understand that the prosecutor didn’t issue a warrant for his arrest, so as far as the law is concerned, the Elk still belongs to my father.”
Jerome quickly said, “I hope that you don’t expect me to pressure Mister Allen to charge him with murder, Jake. I can’t do that.”
“I didn’t have any problem with the prosecutor’s decision. He simply didn’t have enough evidence to go to court.”
Jerome exhaled in relief then asked, “What you want to know is if your father can return and resume work as if nothing had happened; is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I suspected that he might do that for the first two weeks and worried that you might return and there would be another murder on the ranch. I was about to send a wire to the army asking about your plans when you arrived on Friday. It was a great relief to me, and when I heard that you and Sara Smith were engaged, I was immensely pleased. That only lasted until I discovered that you were planning to find your father. Is that true, Jake? Are you going to start a futile search even though you have your whole future laid out before you?”
Jake was getting a bit annoyed at having to explain to everyone why he had to leave, but felt he needed to tell Jerome. It should be the last time he had to provide his reasons before he left.
“I have to go, Jerome. I know I’ll probably come up empty, and it could take me into the fall before I either find him or give up. But I have to make the attempt, or I’ll never be able to live in peace knowing my father could suddenly appear at the door.”
Jerome had been studying Jake’s face as if he was questioning an opposing attorney’s prime witness. So, before Jake finished answering his question, he knew that there was no point in trying to get him to change his mind.
The lawyer then leaned back in his chair and said, “I understand. Do you really think it could take you that long before you realized the futility of your search?”
“Maybe not. Now that I know Sara is waiting for my return, I suspect it will be much sooner.
“That’s something, I suppose.”
Then Jake asked, “Jerome, you probably knew my father better than me or any of the men on the ranch. Can you think of any reason why he and my mother had such a violent argument? I can’t even recall a single time my father even raised his voice against her, much less threatened her.”
Jerome sighed, then after a ten-second pause, he said, “At the end of June, your father came to my office with an unusual request. He knew whatever he told me was protected by law, but I was startled by what he asked.”
Jake hoped that whatever had prompted his father’s visit to Mister Wright would provide the motive for what he did but had no idea of what it could be.
Jerome asked, “Do you know Mrs. Margaret Kemper?”
“Vaguely. She’s the wife of the baker; isn’t she?”
“She was. Her husband disappeared at the end of May, and no one knew what had become of him. She was in trouble because there was still a mortgage on the bakery. Your father asked me to pay off the mortgage and add another five hundred dollars into Mrs. Kemper’s account without anyone knowing he was her benefactor. I told him I could do it, but never asked him why.”
Jake found it hard to believe that his father had suddenly become compassionate and generous, so that left only one other logical but unsavory explanation. He tried to picture Mrs. Kemper but failed.
He then asked, “Do you think that my mother discovered what he’d done and that was what triggered the fight?”
“I’d be surprised if she wouldn’t have noticed as she did the books.”
“When did you pay off the mortgage and make the deposit?”
Jerome sighed and answered, “June 30th. It was when her mortgage payment was due.”
Jake didn’t want to ask Jerome about his father’s motive for his generosity because he wasn’t sure the lawyer knew anyway. The most obvious reason was one he didn’t want to hear. He was already sickened knowing that his father was a murderer and didn’t want to add adultery to his list of sins. But he didn’t recall seeing any large entries among the last pages of expenses in the ledger either. He’d review the ledger again when he returned and see if the books balanced.
He put the review of the ledger aside for the moment and asked, “No one else knows what you just told me; do they?”
“No. You and I are the only ones who know or will ever know.”
“Let’s keep it that way. Is Mrs. Kemper still here?”
“She is. She still owns the bakery and seems to be able to run it on her own.”
Jake nodded and almost wished that he had never asked the question but knew it had solved the biggest mystery surrounding his mother’s murder. He needed drop the subject for now.
“So, if I don’t find my father, he still can return and take control of the Elk.”
“I’m afraid so. Maybe it’s better that you find him after all. You’re probably the only one who can do it. Where do you think he is?”
“My best guess is Helena. He rode west, but almost certainly turned south on the road from Fort Shaw. Helena has more to offer than any other town in the West because of all of the gold millionaires. He had less than a thousand dollars with him, but he was one of the smartest men I ever met. He’ll figure out a way to build another empire. If he just passed through Helena, I might give up the chase.”
“At least you have an idea of what to expect. When you return, stop by and let me know what happened,” then after a short pause, he added, “after you tell Sara, of course.”
Jake smiled as he rose, then as he shook Jerome’s hand, he said, “I’ll do that.”
The lawyer said, “Good luck, Jake,” before his most important client nodded and left the inner office.
When Jake had opened the door, he anticipated finding Steve Rhys close to the door eavesdropping, but the secretary was still busy with his papers at his desk. He could have been listening and rushed back, but Jake didn’t beli
eve he had strayed an inch from his desk.
He waved to the secretary before he entered the outer hall and turned right. He was still reviewing all that Jerome had told him as he pulled on his hat and untied Vulcan. It was just a little past ten o’clock, but he decided to head down to Smith & Sons. He hoped that Sara was already there so they could spend a couple of extra hours on the bench. He was still undecided about whether or not he would tell her what he’d learned.
But as he walked Vulcan down the street, he pulled the black gelding to a stop when he reached Kemper Bakery. Maybe he should buy some biscuits or crusty bread for his trip tomorrow. He hoped to see Mrs. Kemper just to compare her to his mother, even though he doubted that she would be even close to matching her.
He dismounted, tied off Vulcan and stepped into the bakery. The intoxicating aroma of fresh breads and pastries announced the purpose of the business much better than the sign out front.
When he saw a woman behind the counter bagging Mrs. Appleby’s three loaves of bread, he hoped that she wasn’t Mrs. Kemper. Because he couldn’t recall ever having met the woman, he had already imagined her to be the epitome of a harlot who possessed none of his mother’s virtues. Yet, the woman behind the counter was smiling pleasantly at Mrs. Appleby as they chatted, and Jake hated to admit that she was almost as handsome as his mother. She appeared to be a good five or six years younger as well and still had a nice figure. While he could understand his father’s attraction, he still couldn’t accept his father’s infidelity.
Jake no longer wanted to talk to her, so he quickly turned around and left the bakery. He untied Vulcan, mounted and wheeled him to the east to head for the feed and grain. He didn’t think that Mrs. Kemper would recognize him but was sure that Mrs. Appleby would. She’d greet him and then Mrs. Kemper would know who he was and that could create a new and very unwelcome issue. He didn’t need another problem before he left.
It didn’t take long for him to shift his thoughts from Mrs. Kemper to Sara. He pulled up before her father’s business less than a minute later and stepped down. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find Sara waiting for him on the bench, but it was still too early.
