Jack The Roper (Axel Hatchett Mystery Book 6)

by Steven Nelson

  None of us spoke. We liked our horses just fine. Drew took over the talking. His voice squeaked, and his pimply face turned red.

  “Dudes, it’s important you stay in your saddles. Keep your feet in the stirrups at all times. When we get to the steeper parts of the trail I want you should lean forward in your saddles and hang onto the horns if you have to. We may be seeing some wildlife, maybe even a bear or two. You can take pictures, but don’t go waving your arms or hats. And don’t throw sandwiches or other chuck at the animals. They’ll just want more, and then they’ll come and eat one of us. Don’t let your horses graze while you’re riding. Keep their heads up. They’ll get plenty to eat once they’re back in the barn. If you need to fetch anything from your cabins, now’s the time. I recommend hats and sun tan lotion. The sun up here is fierce on account of the thin air.”

  Sheepy had our horses saddled and ready at the corral. There were also a couple of pack mules loaded up with our lunch. Audra led us up a different trail from yesterday’s, and pretty soon we were climbing through stands of spruce and pine. Drew and the pack mules took up the rear. By the time the sun got high in the sky I was getting sleepy. Old Butter seemed to be nodding off too. I had to keep nudging him with my heels to keep him from stopping. At one point, we saw a bear, kind of cinnamon-colored and big. He was eating berries off of some bushes. Audra stopped us all.

  “That be a black bear, even though it ain’t black,” she told us. “We’re safe enough. He wants berries more than he wants us. I’d get your cameras out if I was you.”

  Drew rode up with us and I noticed he had a saddle rifle in a scabbard along with a six-shooter on his gun belt.

  “I don’t want nobody to get no closer to that bear,” he told us. “Just stay in your saddles and take some nice pictures to show the folks back home.”

  All the dudes got excited and snapped pictures and chattered like chipmunks. A little farther up the trail we spotted some deer, then a marmot on a rock, and some hawks sailing in the sky. Then we rode out into a high meadow and came across some grazing white-faced cattle. At one end of the meadow was a split-rail fence and some rustic picnic tables. A little stream snaked along in lazy curves and trilled and rippled on the rocks. We got off our broncs and tied them to the fence and got ready for lunch. There were big juicy sandwiches, and sliced fruit, and lemonade and iced tea, but no coffee. There were some kind of fritters for dessert. We sat in the sun and ate and drank and talked about the animals we’d seen. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful place.

  “Don’t you wish we could stay here forever?” Tracy asked me.

  “It’d be tough finding work.”

  “I think I’d like a job at a dude ranch. If not the Carefree Buckaroo, then a different one.”

  “I’d miss being a detective.”

  “You’d miss getting knocked on the head and shot at?”

  “Yeah, I’m used to it. It reminds me of my childhood.”

  “Maybe you could get a job as a sheriff’s deputy.”

  “No thanks. They’re just cops with cowboy hats. I don’t get along with cops.”

  “You have two cops for friends,” said Tracy.

  “Sure, but Blythe and Biff are different. They’re almost like actual people.”

  Some clouds were coming in and it looked like it might rain. A chill breeze was fussing with our hats.

  “Folks,” Drew said, “we need to get back to the ranch. I don’t want I should scare you, but lightning storms up here ain’t a bucket of fun. We got slickers for you all if it comes to rain.”

  Lightning was a lot scarier than bears. Drew and Audra packed the remains of our lunch onto the mules and got us back on our horses. On the way down, the two guides horse-whipped us into learning trail songs and trying to sing them. Not one of us could sing for beans except Tracy. She sang on key, and she had a lot of lung power. I’d never heard her sing before.

  “Is there anything you can’t do?” I asked her.

  “Yes. I can’t leave you. Ever.”

  “Sounds swell to me. If you ever left me, I’d have to track you down.”

  “At least you’re in the right profession.”

  When we got back to the ranch, Audra addressed us.

  “Did all of you have fun?” she asked. We all cheered. “Tonight’s supper is going to be an hour early. Six. We’re having a square dance in the dining hall. Dress up in your best. Sheepy plays a mean fiddle, so get ready to do-si-do.”

  “I never asked you,” Tracy said to me, “can you dance?” We were standing a little apart from the others.

  “I can cut a rug pretty good. At gun point.”

  “So I’ll bring a shotgun to the dance. Anyway, I’ll need one to keep Betsy away from you.”

  “I thought you decided she was OK.”

  “Sure. I think she makes eyes at all the guys. But she needs to make you the exception.”

  “Folks,” Drew called out to us. “Same as yesterday, this is your time to play games or take a nap if you want. If any of you wants to shake the saddle creaks out of your bones, you’re welcome to take a walk. Just make sure you stay on the trails.”

  “Especially with that murderer around,” said Doc Rumdab. The guy was a spoil sport. Everybody grew quiet.

  “I hear the sheriff made an arrest,” said Drew. “It’s likely the man who killed poor Brice is behind bars. Don’t let it worry you none. You’re safe at the ranch.”

  We broke up and went our separate ways. Tracy and me went back to our cabin and unloosed the cats. We let them play in the long grass behind the cabins, where they found stuff to chase. Mayhew and Eben were getting as big as bobcats and acted just as wild.

  “They’re such fun,” said Tracy, laughing. “Thanks for getting them for us.” I’d given the brace of kittens to Tracy for Christmas before we were married. “Why did Doctor Rumdab have to bring up the murder?”

  “I’m surprised no one brought it up earlier. You’d think it’d be preying on people’s minds. I guess the dudes are determined to have fun no matter what.”

  “Do you think Sheriff Fish has really caught the killer?”

  “I doubt it. Drew probably just told us that to make us feel safe.”

  “Three murders in two years. That’s bad luck for a dude ranch.”

  “It’s bad luck for any place of business,” I said. “You’d think with all the horseshoes around they’d have nothing but good luck.”

  We each grabbed a cat and headed around to the front of the cabins. Agnes Weatherby’s DeSoto was just headed down the road. Ned was driving and Margot was behind him in an old Plymouth. They both honked and waved.

  “You know those people?” asked Tracy.

  “Yeah. Ned and Margot. My long lost cousins. A couple of nuts who live with Panhandle’s aunt. It looks like they just picked up Miss Weatherby’s borrowed car.”

  “I hope you’re through with that gang.”

  “You and me both.”

  We went into the cabin and took a long nap, though neither of us slept.

  Supper consisted of steak — from Buckaroo-raised beef — mashed potatoes and gravy, string beans, and some lousy Jell-O full of grated vegetables. There was chocolate cake for dessert. The steaks were a bit chewy, but the flavor was good. We rested our guts for a while and then headed into the grub house for the square dance. They’d cleared the tables to one side and strung colorful banners from the ceiling. Bow-legged Sheepy was up on a soap box warming up his fiddle. He played like he knew what he was doing. Hawk, the lady killer, was there to call the dance.

  All the dudes were dressed to the nines — maybe even the tens — in fancy Western garb. Tracy wore a turquoise dress with a flouncy skirt and stripes of silver sequins. I wore new jeans and a red and yellow cowboy shirt with lots of pearl buttons, and a showy neckerchief. We all stomped around and got in each other’s way and stepped on a few toes. But everyone was laughing and sweating and having fun.

  Sheepy was practically foaming at
the mouth by the time he stopped fiddling. It was late before the dance broke up. Hawk announced that we’d be going on a hayride in the morning. We caught our breath for the last time and moseyed off to our different cabins. Nobody wanted to take a shower until morning. The facilities were primitive and the water was always cold.

  “That was some fun,” Tracy told me, as we stepped inside our home away from home. “You dance like Fred Astaire.”

  “Sure. Fred Astaire with lead in his shoes. You make a good Ginger Rogers, though.”

  We took the cats out for a late spin and then went to bed. About midnight there was a knock at our door. I answered it in the red plaid robe Tracy had given me for the trip. It was Lilly Rumdab, and she looked worried. Her hair was sticking out all over and she wore a robe over a nightgown.

  “What’s up?” I asked her.

  Tracy came up behind me.

  “I’ve asked everybody else,” said Lilly. “Yours is the last cabin. I can’t find my husband. No one’s seen him.”

  “Maybe he went out for a smoke,” I said, “or to get a breath of air.”

  “Karl doesn’t smoke, and he wouldn’t go out at night with a murderer loose. I’m worried. I woke up and he wasn’t in bed next to me. Where can he be?”

  “We’ll find him,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Tracy. “I’m sure your husband is fine. We’ll help look for him. You look really sleepy, Lilly.”

  “I can hardly keep my eyes open. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Thank you for offering to help find Karl.”

  Even without her makeup Lilly looked pretty classy under our porch light.

  “Just give us a minute to get dressed,” I told her. “We’ll be right out. We’ll find the doc.”

  “I’m going up to the ranch house to wake Mr. Breedlaw,” said Lilly. “I hate to, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Sure,” I said. “We’ll catch up with you.”

  I closed the door and we got dressed.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Tracy, pulling on jeans and a sweatshirt.

  “The doc hasn’t been murdered, Tracy. Don’t even think that. Maybe he went up to the grub house to get a midnight snack. Or maybe he’s having a moonlit amour with Audra or Sissy Dell, though I doubt it.”

  I finished dressing, stuck my thirty-eight in my pocket, and grabbed my flashlight off the nightstand. We went out into the night. The stars looked close enough to grab and there was a moon. While we were passing the other cabins, Curt poked his head out his door. He was dressed.

  “Did Lilly find her husband?” he asked, in a whisper.

  “No,” I said. “We’re going to help her find him. Lilly went up to the ranch house to rouse Breedlaw. He’ll likely wake up the buckaroos. Do you have a flashlight?”

  “In my car. I’ll get it. I’ll see if Walter wants to help search.”

  “Good. We’ll meet you up by the grub house.”

  I noticed that the Rumdab’s Citroen was still in the parking lot. Folks were already gathering at the chuck house. Breedlaw and Lilly were standing out front. Panhandle and Hawk and Sheepy were coming down from the bunkhouse. In a minute, Audra and Drew showed up, then Curt and Walter. That made eleven of us. We decided to break up into pairs, with Curt coming with me and Tracy. Walter had a flashlight with him and Breedlaw fetched a couple more from the chuck house. He already had one with him. That gave each couple a flashlight with one to spare.

  “Maybe you should go back to your cabin,” Breedlaw told Lilly.

  “I can’t. I’m going with you. It’s my husband. Where could he be?”

  “We’ll find him,” said Breedlaw, tugging at his mustache.

  There were several trails leading from the ranch buildings. I picked one at random and Tracy and Curt started playing bloodhound. Curt had kept his flashlight and I had mine.

  “I hope this is going to turn out all right,” said Tracy.

  “You don’t think it could be Jack the Roper, do you?” Curt asked.

  I stopped in my tracks. “How’d you hear about the Roper?”

  “Sissy Dell was telling Mabel about him this afternoon. She didn’t want to talk about it, but Mabel got it out of her. The guy’s killed three people.”

  “Likely only two,” I said. “Brice’s killer wanted us to think he was the Roper, but I guess it doesn’t matter. One killer’s as good as another.”

  The trail I’d picked led into some dense forest. The trees blocked out the moonlight and we had to depend on our flashlights. We all three stumbled now and then. Both Curt and me shined our lights around at the sides of the trail. Maybe Rumdab had strayed from the path for some reason. It had rained a little in the afternoon, but the pine trees all around us had kept the rain off the ground; we couldn’t find any footprints. A little wind was picking up and making us cold. We’d gone far enough that when we looked behind us we could no longer see the lights Breedlaw had left on in the grub house.

  After we’d walked what I figured was close to half a mile, I thought about turning back. I didn’t see why the doctor would have gone this far. Then Tracy saw something ahead of us.

  “Shine your light on that big tree in front of us again,” she said.

  Both me and Curt aimed our lights at a tall aspen about twenty feet ahead of us. Something was dangling from one of its branches. We hurried forward. Dr. Karl Rumdab was hanging like the victim of an old West lynching. A rope was around his skinny neck, the other end thrown over a tree branch and tied off at the base of the tree. His feet were no more than a foot off the ground. When I reached up and touched his neck it was still warm. I got out my jackknife and reached up and cut the rope. I heard Tracy gasp.

  “Lordy!” said Curt, whispering. “Is he — ?”

  Once I had him laid out on the ground, I loosened the rope around his neck and felt for a pulse. “He’s dead as a mackerel,” I said. I felt of his neck again. It didn’t appear to be broken. The doc’s dead face was dark and swollen. The eyes bulged and the tongue stuck out. I tried to keep Tracy from getting too good a view of the dead croaker. I flashed my light around for any sign of footprints or anything else. There was nothing. “We need to get back and call the sheriff. And somebody’s going to have to tell Lilly. I’m just glad she’s not the one who found him.”

  “Should one of us stay here with the body?” asked Curt. His voice was shaking.

  “That’s not a good idea,” I said. “The killer might still be out here somewhere. I don’t think this was suicide. Let’s go. I hope no animal comes along and makes a meal off of Rumdab.” I turned to Tracy who was right at my shoulder. “You all right?”

  “Yes,” she said in a quavery voice. “This is my first dead body.”

  “I’m sorry I dragged you out here. I just set up a whole string of nightmares for you.”

  “You didn’t drag me. I wanted to come. I’m OK, just a little shook. Let’s go back. Poor Lilly. That body could be yours, Axe.” She shivered.

  “Not a chance. I plan on sticking around for a long time. Curt? You OK?”

  “I feel kind of sick,” he said. He turned and threw up in some bushes.

  “That’s right, get it out of your system,” I said. “Let’s hit the trail. The sooner we’re back the sooner the sheriff can get a look at this body.”

  We went back a lot quicker than we’d come. A few folks were inside the dining hall. Sissy Dell was there and she’d made coffee. Walter and Hawk had given up and come back from whatever trail they’d been on. Sheepy and Panhandle had given up too. That left Lilly and Breedlaw, and Audra and Drew, still out searching.

  “Honk a car horn to get the others to come back,” I told Hawk. “And call the sheriff. We found the doc. He’s dead, with a rope around his neck.”

  “Hell’s bells,” said Hawk. “I’ll make the phone call. One of you others go honk your car horn.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Walter. He looked more mournful than ever. He go
t out of his chair and headed out the door.

  9

  The honking worked. Within twenty minutes, the other searchers had returned. I wasn’t looking forward to facing Lilly. She came into the grub house on Breedlaw’s arm, looking pale and scared.

  “Is he here?” she asked. “My husband? Is Karl all right?”

  I stepped forward to talk to the new widow, but Tracy beat me. She put an arm around Lilly.

  “The doctor’s had an accident,” Tracy told Lilly. “You need to sit down.”

  Breedlaw got a chair under her before her legs gave out. She started shaking and gave Tracy a pleading look full of tears.

  “He’s gone, Lilly. We found him. I don’t think he suffered.”

  Lilly wailed like a coyote and beat her fists on the arms of the chair. We all came forward and mumbled a bunch of useless words.

  “Maybe we need to get her back to her cabin,” I said, “but she can’t stay there by herself. And, for God’s sake, get her a drink.”

  Sissy Dell turned to Panhandle. “Get the whiskey bottle,” she told him. “Bring it to her cabin.” She led Lilly out the door, glancing sadly over her shoulder at the rest of us.

  “What happened?” asked Breedlaw. His voice sounded a bit slurred. He’d been babysitting a bottle. “Who found the doc?”

  Tracy and Curt and me gave him the story.

  “We found him hanged from a tree a good half-mile from here,” I said. “He was dead, but his neck wasn’t broken. We didn’t find any tracks or anything else. I didn’t think to go through his pockets. There might be a note on him.”

  “Why a note?” asked Breedlaw. “This is terrible, just terrible!”

  “He didn’t go out in the woods in the middle of the night for no reason,” I said. “He was scared of the guy who killed Holcombe. He didn’t tell his wife where he was going, and he snuck out of their cabin. I think he slipped Lilly a mickey. Easy enough for a doc to do. I believe he thought he was meeting a lady.”