Jack The Roper (Axel Hatchett Mystery Book 6)

by Steven Nelson

  “That’s for me,” said Tracy, winking at me.

  “I might actually want to sleep,” I said.

  “I knew I should have married a younger guy.”

  We went back to our cabin and played with the cats. They were awfully happy to see us. In our absence they’d managed to pull down the window curtain, unpack one of our suitcases, and overturn their water dish. Sheepy had told us that supper wouldn’t be until seven since we’d gotten off to a late start that morning.

  “What do you think of our fellow dudes?” Tracy asked.

  “Hard to say. I haven’t really talked to Curt and Mabel yet. The doc’s not as bad as I thought he was, and his wife’s swell.”

  “I wish I could think of a way to cheer up Walter.”

  “You’d think being married to Betsy would make him happy,” I said, with a leer.

  “You stay away from her. She’s not part of our honeymoon plans.”

  “I wonder which one of us dudes could be a murderer.”

  “Don’t start that talk. Besides, the sheriff thinks one of the ranch employees did it.”

  “He was just talking. I’m sure he’s looking into all of our backgrounds, especially yours. He’s got our registration information. I’m going to talk to Panhandle about the killing.”

  “No sleuthing on our honeymoon. Come kiss me instead.”

  “Sure. Do we have anything to drink around here?”

  “I’ve got two bottles of champagne in our suitcase, but it’s warm.”

  “We could take a blanket and a couple of glasses and go find a stream to cool the bottles in.”

  “How romantic. Should we take the cats?”

  “We’ll take them out for a romp later.”

  We gathered up our blanket, a couple of wine glasses Tracy had carefully packed, and the champagne, and headed outside. Mabel Halsey was just coming out the door of the cabin next to ours. Apparently the Halsey’s were our neighbors.

  “I need to change my shoes,” she told us. “How does anybody walk in cowboy boots?”

  “That’s why cowboys ride horses,” I said.

  “What’s with the bottles and the blanket? Are you guys going out into the woods? I wouldn’t. I mean, I heard you were newlyweds and all, but what about the killer? I didn’t even like walking to the cabin by myself, but Curt was busy playing horseshoes. I think he and Panhandle are playing for money.”

  “You think the killer is waiting out in the woods for his next victim?” Tracy asked her.

  Mabel shrugged. “Who knows? I’m not taking any chances.”

  Tracy gave me a sorrowful look.

  “I don’t think there’s going to be a second murder,” I said. “I think it had something to do with the folks who work for the dude ranch. Something personal. We aren’t dealing with some kind of crazed killer.”

  “It’d be a shame to spoil your honeymoon by getting strangled to death,” said Mabel.

  “I think she’s right,” Tracy told me. “It’s not worth the risk. We can drink our champagne later. Maybe we can use the fridge in the dining hall kitchen to get it nice and cold for us. We can take it back to our cabin with us after supper. What do you say, Axe?”

  I had to admit it was the sensible thing to do. “OK, you girls win. We’ll play it safe.”

  “Come join the other dudes,” Mabel invited. She didn’t have enough nose to sound nasal, but she managed it anyway. “The doctor and his wife are napping, but the rest of us are over behind the dining hall. Betsy and Walter are playing croquet. There’s lemonade and iced tea.”

  “No coffee?” I asked.

  “It’s too hot for coffee, but maybe Sissy Dell will make some for you if you ask.”

  Tracy put the blanket and glasses back in our cabin, and we strolled over to the chuck house with Mabel. Mabel was limping a little. We joined the others and I asked Sissy Dell if she had room in the fridge for our champagne.

  “Sure we do. You having a little celebration later?”

  “You might call it that,” I said. “Say, would you mind making me some coffee?”

  “Kind of hot for coffee, isn’t it? But, sure, if that’s what you want.”

  She took the bottles and disappeared into the grub house. I walked over to where Panhandle and Curt were standing near a horseshoe pit. Curt was handing Panhandle some cash.

  “Were you playing with marked horseshoes?” I asked Panhandle, when Curt walked away shaking his head.

  “Huh? Sure, very funny.”

  “I want to talk to you about the murder.”

  “Why me? Talk to Breedlaw.”

  “He’s the foreman. He won’t tell me anything, but maybe you will. Any rumors going around in the bunkhouse?”

  “Naw. I’ve learned a thing or two, but I can’t talk about it now. I’ve got these dudes to watch. They’re a lot like cows; they don’t have much sense. And I’ve got to start cooking again pretty soon. We can jaw after supper. How’s that?”

  “Fine, but don’t forget. Where’s the rest of the Buckaroo crew?”

  “Busy. Sheepy’s with the horses. Audra’s cleaning some of the cabins. Drew’s sawing up firewood — we use up a lot of it. Hawk’s likely off somewhere looking in the mirror or shining his boots. Care for a game of horseshoes?”

  “I thought you said you had to watch the dudes. I think I’ll go over and see what my wife’s doing.”

  “You’re a lucky guy. Your misses is a looker.”

  “Tracy? Sure, she’s OK. Don’t get any ideas.”

  “Me?” He raised his eyebrows and tried looking innocent.

  “Maybe you and Sissy Dell can get together.”

  “Naw,” said Panhandle. “She’s prime stock. I don’t have a chance. I’m thinking Audra might be worth a try.”

  “Good luck.”

  Tracy was off to one side of the croquet lawn — a big oval of mown native grass with wickets — looking at some cactus.

  “Lose something?” I asked her.

  “The cutest little rattlesnake you ever saw. Only about two feet long. I’m going to catch it for you.”

  “Thanks, sister.” Tracy knows snakes give me the willies. “I don’t think you’re allowed to capture the wildlife. Come on, I’ll buy you a lemonade.”

  “You’re ruining my fun.”

  “I’m trying to keep you from ruining mine. Leave that poor snake alone. Aren’t you afraid of getting bitten?”

  “I’ve got a way with snakes.”

  “Lucky you. You’re starting to sweat. Let’s get you out of the sun.”

  On our way to the roofed veranda in back of the grub shack, I stopped to warn Curt and Mabel about the rattler.

  “Tracy just saw a rattlesnake. I’d advise you to give up your croquet game.”

  Mabel let out a little scream. “You win, Curt. I’m going back to the porch.”

  Curt gathered up the croquet mallets and the colored balls and followed his wife. He stopped to talk to me a minute.

  “First a murder, now a rattlesnake,” he said. “A man hates to think he won’t survive his own vacation.” He had a buzz cut which only made his fat face look fatter. “Makes me want to take up smoking again. I quit. Doctor’s orders.”

  “Doctors just don’t want any of us to have a good time.”

  “I’ll say. Mine wants me to lose weight, too. I might as well die and get it over with.”

  7

  We joined the others under the porch roof. There were some rustic wooden chairs and a couple of love seats. They looked kind of splintery. Tracy was talking to Betsy. I wondered if she was giving her an earful about having made eyes at me at lunch. I hoped there wasn’t going to be a cat fight. Walter was sitting in one of the chairs, staring off at the sky. He looked like his favorite pony had just died. I sidled over to Tracy and Betsy.

  “I got my own lemonade,” Tracy told me. She was holding a misty glass. “Sissy Dell says your coffee is ready.”

  “Thanks.”

  Betsy goggled at
me. “So, you’re a real detective? Tracy says you’re the best. I’m so glad you’re here. Maybe you can figure out who killed that poor wrangler.”

  “I’ll leave that to the sheriff. We’re on our honeymoon, and my new bride has forbidden me to do any gumshoe work.”

  “But you might be able to figure things out,” said Betsy. She gave me a smile that almost knocked me down.

  “I’m sure that Sheriff Fish will have the whole case wrapped up in no time,” I said.

  Doc Rumdab and Lilly came around the corner and joined us.

  “Grab some lemonade or iced tea,” Sissy Dell told them, coming back out of the grub house. She brought a tin cup of coffee over to me. “I don’t know how you take it. Can I get you cream or sugar?”

  “Thanks, no. I drink it black.”

  “Do you have mineral water?” asked the doc.

  “We have spring water, from our own well.”

  “I suppose that will have to do. Thank you. Is there a chess set on the ranch I can borrow?”

  “We’ve got checkers, both American and Chinese.”

  Rumdab make a face.

  “I don’t like playing chess with you anyway, Karl,” said Lilly. “You never let me win.”

  “Tracy saw a rattlesnake,” Mabel told the newcomers. She turned to Tracy. “How big was it?”

  “Not more than eight feet.” Tracy grinned at Mabel’s shocked expression. “No, it was just a baby, pinkish gray, with only three or four rattles. A really cute snake.”

  Mabel squealed and ran to Curt for protection.

  We spent the next couple of hours chatting and playing games and relaxing. Then Panhandle announced that our grub was ready.

  He and Sissy Dell put on another good spread: barbequed chicken and homemade biscuits. Fried potatoes and coleslaw. Apple pie and cherry pie for dessert. They even brought out an ice chest full of beer, but I stuck with my coffee. After we’d eaten, Panhandle unlimbered his guitar and Sissy Dell sang us a bunch of cowboy songs. When the beer was depleted and the serenade was over, the dudes scattered and headed for their cabins. I buttonholed Panhandle and reminded him we needed to talk.

  “Sure,” he said, “but not yet. I got to help clean up. Wait out here; I’ll be through in a jiffy.”

  Tracy wanted to know what was going on. I didn’t want to tell her but I did.

  “Panhandle’s going to tell me what he knows about Holcombe getting killed.”

  “You promised to leave your detective hat at home.”

  “I know, but I wasn’t counting on anyone getting murdered. I just want to talk to Panhandle, that’s all.”

  “Then I’m going to talk to him too.”

  “Fine.”

  The night was turning out nice. The air was chilly but sweet and fresh. We could hear some frogs down by the creek, and there were some crickets, but not many. There was a yellow moon rising in the sky, and big clusters of stars. I counted them. In about twenty minutes Panhandle came out the back door and joined me and Tracy.

  “Great supper,” Tracy told him. “Who taught you to cook?”

  “My mom. She was kind of sickly, and us kids had to learn to fend for ourselves. I was cooking before I was out of knee pants.”

  “You wore knee pants?” I asked.

  “Just an expression, Mr. Detective.”

  “Tell us what you know about Brice Holcombe’s death,” I said.

  “Sure. I didn’t really know him. He wasn’t working here when I was here before. The reason I left the Carefree Buckaroo was because of a couple of murders that happened up here.”

  “Jeez,” I said. “What kind of place is this?”

  “Yeah,” said Tracy, “It’s supposed to be a nice friendly dude ranch.”

  “It is,” said Panhandle. “The murders didn’t have nothing to do with the dudes. Two years ago it was a trail guide and another wrangler that got killed. Same way. They were lassoed and strangled. After the second murder folks started calling the killer Jack the Roper. Funny, huh?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Hilarious. So now Jack the Roper’s back.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Panhandle, “for two reasons. One, Brice Holcombe was strangled with a rope right enough, but the knot was wrong. The lasso was tied with a plain slip knot, not a Honda knot.”

  “What the hell is a Honda knot?” I asked.

  “Something every cowboy knows how to tie. A special kind of slipknot. If I had a rope I could show you.”

  “That’s OK. So you’re saying the guy who killed Holcombe isn’t the same guy who committed the murders two years ago. But he wants to look like he’s Jack the Roper. A copycat murder.”

  “That’s what I figure,” said Panhandle, scratching an armpit. “I talked to Breedlaw after the sheriff was here. The sheriff thinks it’s a different killer.”

  “All right,” broke in Tracy. “What’s your second reason for thinking it’s a different killer this time?”

  “I think the killer from last time is dead. I think I know who it was.”

  “Really?” I asked. “The cops caught him?”

  “No. He died. It was likely Old Man Juniper. Ezra Juniper. He owned the Lazy Circle Ranch, which borders the Carefree Buckaroo. For years, old Ezra made the claim that there was a springhead that belonged to him and not the Buckaroo. He said the boundaries hadn’t been marked off right. I think the old man was crazy. He tried to get Primus Roan to turn the spring over to him.”

  “What’s the big deal?” asked Tracy. “It’s just some water.”

  “Hawk told me you grew up on a ranch,” said Panhandle. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, a little ranch, near Quartz Quarry. The Lucky Clover. That’s my family’s name. Clover.”

  “You had plenty of water?”

  “I’ll say. The house used to flood about every other year. A big stream runs through the place.”

  “OK,” said Panhandle. “Up here things are different. We got some little trickles for streams and not much else. Water’s a big deal in these parts. Some ranchers would kill for more water.”

  “Like Old Man Juniper,” I said.

  “That’s right. He sicced the law on Mr. Roan, my great-uncle. But it got him nowhere. So then he started making threats. He killed some of the Buckaroo’s cattle, and had a couple of punchers beat up. Mr. Roan didn’t budge. That’s when Jack the Roper showed up. I think Ezra Juniper was behind the killings. In fact, I think he was the Roper. He was old, but a cowboy’s as good as the horse he rides.”

  “He was never arrested?” I asked.

  “Naw. They couldn’t find enough evidence. Juniper had a couple of strokes. The second one ended up killing him. And Jack the Roper disappeared.”

  “What did Primus Roan think about it?”

  “I think he always believed Juniper was the killer.”

  “That was two years ago?” I asked. “Do you have any idea who this new killer might be?”

  “No, but he ain’t a cowboy. The knot proves that. Somebody had it in for Holcombe, I figure. They killed him and covered their tracks by making it look like the Roper did it.”

  “So,” said Tracy, “somebody local. Not one of the dudes.”

  “Looks like.”

  “You could have done it yourself, Panhandle,” I said.

  “Why would I?”

  “Maybe you wanted Holcomb’s job. You knew the story about the Roper.”

  “Sure, but I didn’t do it. I’m a cook, not a wrangler. I couldn’t have gotten Brice’s job. Besides, I know how to tie a Honda knot.”

  “You were likely in on the rabbit-napping with Ned. You stole your aunt’s car. You could be a killer.”

  “I ain’t. And I didn’t take the bunny neither. I didn’t steal Auntie’s car. I borrowed it. Hell, I might be lazy, but I ain’t a crook.”

  “Whatever you say. Who do you think killed the wrangler?”

  Panhandle shrugged and raised his shaggy eyebrows. The light from the porch just barely reached us and mo
st of his face was in shadow. “How would I know? I’d guess it was somebody from town, some guy who didn’t care much for Brice.”

  “What about the dudes? One of them could have done it,” said Tracy.

  “They’re mostly from out of state. None of them could know the guy. Why would they kill him?” asked Panhandle.

  “You got a point,” I said. “But don’t be so sure none of us didn’t know the dead guy. One of us could have known him in the past, maybe hated him, and chose their vacation spot here so they could send Brice out of this vale of tears. That’s just the kind of a world that we live in, Tracy. I hate to blot out your sunny illusions.”

  “You enjoy doing that. None of us dudes would know about the Roper,” said Tracy.

  “They could have heard the story,” I said. “They might have talked to somebody at the ranch when they were making their reservations. I wouldn’t take any of the dudes off the suspect list yet.”

  It was getting late. Panhandle wanted to head for the bunkhouse. He fetched our now cold bottles of champagne and me and Tracy headed for our cabin. We spread our blanket out in front of the cabin and brought the cats outside. For the next hour or so we drank champagne, looked at the stars, and retrieved Eben and Mayhew every time they strayed too far.

  “The killer slipped up when he tied the wrong kind of knot in the lariat,” I said. I couldn’t stop thinking about the murder.

  “We didn’t slip up when we tied the knot,” said Tracy, cuddling up to me.

  “We sure didn’t, precious.” I pulled her closer and kissed her.

  In a while we rounded up our wild boys — they loved it outside and puffed up like dandelions — and went into the cabin.

  8

  Breakfast was at seven. The mountain air gave us all appetites. We stuffed ourselves with pancakes, eggs and bacon, toast, orange juice, and coffee. After we’d eaten, the two guides, Audra and Drew, made their appearance and gave us the day’s schedule. They both stood before us and gave us our instructions.

  “Cowboys and cowgirls,” said Audra, in her thin, high-pitched voice, “we’re taking you on another horseback ride this morning. It’ll be longer than yesterday’s. We’re taking lunch along with us. We’re headed up into the mountains. The trail is steep and it’s important that everybody stay on the trail. We don’t want anyone getting lost or hurt. I’ll be leading, and Drew will be eating our dust in the rear. You’ll have the same mounts as yesterday unless someone has a problem with that.”