“Sounds swell,” I said.
“It’s worth the trouble,” said Panhandle. “There’s big rooms full of those dangly things — stalactites — and crystals, and blind fish. It’s better than a drive-in movie.”
“I’m getting excited,” said Tracy. “Any animals? Blind albino bears? Giant salamanders?”
“No, but there’s supposed to be a ghost. A miner was blown up when they discovered the cave. He haunts the place.”
“How’s come this wasn’t in the brochure?” I asked. “It sounds creepier than hell.”
“It’s new this year. Like I said, they had to shore up the old mine shafts. Someday they’re going to put electricity in the cave. Lights all over. Only now, I guess, that might not happen if Uncle Prime shuts down the whole dude ranch.”
“Have you thought what you might do?” asked Tracy.
Panhandle sighed. “Beats me. Maybe I’ll stay on as a Twin Roans ranch hand. It’s getting late. You guys should go to bed.”
“You trying to get rid of us?” I asked.
“One more cup of coffee,” said Tracy. “With another shot of whiskey.”
Panhandle looked at me. “Some dame you married.”
“There’s none better,” I said.
We drank our coffee and then headed back to our cabin. We played with the cats a little and then hit the sack.
“Tomorrow’s going to be some day,” said Tracy. “Cousin Hester and a cave. What do you think?”
“I could do without either one of them. Don’t forget about Audra’s hair. Grab a sample the first chance you get. But don’t let her catch you doing it.”
“I’ll borrow some mule shears from the barn.”
Somewhere near dawn, I woke up. Light was just beginning to pale the sky. I had the impression that something, some sound, had awakened me. I wasn’t wrong. Something thumped against the outside of our door. It was more a clunk than a knock. I thought maybe some animal was paying us a visit, maybe to get to our cats. There was another thunk, a little louder. It woke Tracy.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Let me check.”
I snagged my snub-nose from under the pillow and got out of bed. I crept to the door and crouched to one side of it. Flipping on the porch light, I opened the door a crack. Tracy followed me, the idiot. There was the sound of breaking glass, and an explosion. A gunshot!
“Get down!” I shouted. I turned and pulled Tracy with me to the floor. There was a second shot. I heard the bullet hit the wall above our bed. “Stay down!”
I was afraid the sniper might get closer to the cabin and continue shooting. I alligator-crawled to the window and then raised up just enough to look over the sill. I opened the window a few inches and fired a couple of shots into the sky and then listened. Nothing. Not a sound. I waited for more shots, but there weren’t any. Tracy crawled over to me.
“Get away from that window,” she said.
One of the cats started mewing, but he didn’t sound hurt. Tracy and me stayed on the floor for what seemed like an hour. It was probably more like ten minutes. Then I heard rapid footsteps outside. There was a hard knock at the door.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hatchett! Are you all right?”
It was Breedlaw. I climbed up off the floor and opened the door. Breedlaw, looking rumpled, even a little drunk, was standing on our doorstep. He had a rifle in his hands.
“We’re fine,” I told him. “Somebody shot a couple of holes through our window. No real harm done.”
“By God! What’s this place coming to? Did you see the shooter?”
“Naw, not enough light, and I was too busy hugging the floor.”
“Who do you think it was?” Breedlaw asked.
“I was hoping you had some ideas. Maybe it was Rumdab’s killer. Is everyone accounted for? Did the shots wake everybody up?”
“I think so. Folks were piling out of the bunkhouse. I don’t guess Walter and Betsy woke up though. Their cabin is quiet.”
“Maybe they’re laying low. How’d you know me and Tracy were the ones being shot at?”
“I saw your porch light was on, and then I saw the broken window. I’m going to go call the sheriff.”
“Don’t. No point in getting him out of bed, he can’t do anything. Who knows? Maybe it was just some deer poacher getting an early start. Two of the shots were mine. I think I hit a cloud. Listen, Breedlaw, I’d appreciate it if you kept this under your Stetson. I’ve got my reasons. Tell the others I heard a bear outside and took some pot shots at it.”
“No,” said Tracy. She’d pulled on a robe and followed me to the door. “Tell everybody I’m the one who fired the shots. That will be more believable. Silly dame and all that. I even managed to shoot a hole through my own window. I’m just one of those dizzy, skittish, broads. Do you think you can tell that story?”
Breedlaw looked like he didn’t know what to do. He decided to take the easy way out.
“All right,” he said. “I don’t like it, but I don’t like bringing the sheriff back up here either. We’ll just let sleeping dogs lie. Whoever fired the shots was after you, I figure. No point in spooking the buckaroos or the other guests. I’ll tell folks your misses went bear hunting.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Breedlaw left. Tracy and me got dressed after first checking the cats for bullet holes. They were unventilated, thank God.
“Why do you want to keep the shooting a secret?” Tracy asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired of looking at badges. Besides, it occurs to me that the sniper might be the same idiot who shot at me in my office. Ned. I kept an eye out for him on our drive to the ranch. I didn’t spot his truck, but he might be in communication with Panhandle. I want to handle Ned all by myself. No cops.”
“You’re stupid and stubborn.”
“Stop sweet-talking me, you’ll make me blush. You know, you could have caught one of those bullets. Are you sure marrying a detective was a good idea?”
“Sure. I want to be a gumshoe, too. It’s exciting. We’ll just both have to start wearing armor. Look on the bright side, at least this time nobody put holes in your hat.”
I checked the damage to our window. One pane in the latticed window had been shot to pieces. I was afraid the cats might climb up on the sill and make their escape; They’d been pretty impressed with the outdoors. I took a couple of my shirts from our suitcase and balled them up to stuff into the unglazed hole. That would have to do for now.
When we went to breakfast the next morning, the sun was shining. It figures, since we were going to spend the day underground. We ate our flapjacks with Betsy and Walter. Sheepy’s five trout also made an appearance. They were delicious. Betsy was goggle-eyed about Tracy’s having shot at a real live bear.
“Tracy, honey, weren’t you scared?” Betsy asked.
“Naw, it wasn’t too big a bear, maybe five-hundred pounds.”
“You never even saw the thing,” I said. “I’m guessing it was a muskrat.”
“It sounded like a horse walking around,” said Tracy. “I’ll bet that bear was bigger than you, Axe.”
“I’ll bet it smelled worse than me.”
“Oh, yeah? Is that likely?”
“Do you think you wounded it?” Betsy asked. “I’ve heard wounded bears are the most dangerous. Or hungry ones, or ones with cubs.”
“Or naturally grouchy ones,” I said. “Or one’s whose shoes hurt them.”
Walter put in his oar. “I think the kind that have lost money on Wall Street are the hardest to get along with.”
“I don’t see how you two boys can laugh about it,” complained Betsy. “You’re probably just jealous. What’d you do when you heard the bear, Axe, hide under the bed?”
“Absolutely. With my favorite stuffed bunny wrapped in my arms.”
“Quit making fun of Tracy,” said Betsy. She looked almost fierce. “I could never be that brave. If I wake up in the night and hear somethin
g, I always make Walter investigate.”
“Boy, that’s the truth,” said Walter, rolling his eyes. “If a mouse so much as licks its lips in the night, Betsty’s wanting me to grab the hatchet and go look.”
Sissy Dell came around to refill our coffee cups.
“Brave girl,” she told Tracy.
Breedlaw wandered into the chow house. He looked hung-over, and his mustache drooped. He winked at Tracy.
“’Morning, Daniel Boone,” he said to Tracy, grinning like a loon. “Say, is it true you can shoot out a squirrel’s eye at fifty paces?”
“No,” said Tracy, “but I can spit in your eye from right where I’m sitting.”
Breedlaw retreated.
We quit talking and concentrated on shoveling grub into our craws. Walter could pack away the pancakes like a starving stevedore. I didn’t do so bad myself.
“Let me tell you folks about the cave you’re going to see today,” Sissy Dell told us “It’s beautiful. There’s this one big room with shiny crystals all over the walls. There’s an echo chamber, and a little lake with fish that can’t see, poor things. They’re white and scrawny. You might even meet up with the ghost of Blasty Graber. He was the one who blew the hole through the mine wall that revealed the cave. But he dynamited himself to death in the process, poor fellow.”
“Yeah, poor blown up Blasty,” said Walter. “And poor little blind fish. Caves give me the screaming meemies. Can’t we just ride horses?”
“You’ll get to do that too,” said Sissy Dell, her smile like a slice of sunshine. “There’s way more flapjacks, bacon, eggs, and toast. Eat up folks!”
We finished up our breakfast and went outside. Sheepy, Drew, and Audra had our string of horses saddled up and waiting. An old green pickup was coming up the road. The driver honked a couple of times and speeded up.
“That must be Panhandle and Hester,” I told Tracy.
“Hester will be just in time to join us for the ride and the cave exploring,” she said.
“Swell,” I said. “I wonder if she’s wearing high heels and a tight skirt.”
The two got out of the truck. Panhandle looked grumpy. Hester was smiling. She was dressed in new, too-tight, jeans, a fancy pink cowgirl shirt with too many buttons unfastened, and new red cowboy boots. On her head was a tiny pink cowboy hat with a veil on the brim. I wondered where she got the money for the outfit, but I didn’t really want to know.
15
“I’ll put your bags in the cabin,” Panhandle told her. “You’ve got cabin number one. I’ll leave the key in the dining hall. Get moving, these folks are waiting on you.”
Hester came forward and introduced herself to Walter.
“Howdy! My name’s Hester, what’s yours?”
Her long dark hair was fluffed out and she hadn’t skimped on the makeup. She was lean and lanky and pale as a blind fish. Her long face had a big smile plastered on it.
“I’m Betsy.” Walter’s wife stepped between him and Hester and staked out her territory. “You must have dressed in a hurry, honey, you missed a couple of buttons.”
“I’m Tracy,” said my girl, stepping forward to stave off the fireworks. “This is my husband, Axe.”
Hester batted her fake lashes at me and gave me an up-from-under smoldering glance. If I’d had a bucket of water handy I would have used it on her.
“We’ve met,” she said. “Only he wasn’t named Axe the night I spent with him.”
“I’m still trying out names,” I said. “I didn’t spend the whole night with you, Hester, it only seemed like it. How are you?”
“Raring to go, sweetie. Let me at those horses.”
Audra gave Hester an appraising look. I don’t figure she thought the pink-hatted damsel would fetch much at a flea market.
“Do you know how to ride?” Audra asked Hester.
“I can ride a bicycle. Does that count?”
“It’s not quite the same,” said Audra. “If you need any help, let me or Drew know. That’s what we’re here for.
We climbed into our various saddles and the guides led us up a trail we hadn’t traveled before. Audra had her shotgun with her and Sheepy and Drew both wore gun belts. I couldn’t help wondering if either of their shooting irons had been fired recently. Like last night, maybe. Drew had cleaned up some. He was wearing a fancy turquoise shirt and was attempting a mustache. He still looked like a newborn calf with pimples. I wondered if he was trying to take over Hawk’s spot as a lady killer.
I had my High Power tucked into my belt and Tracy had my little thirty-eight stuck in her jean’s pocket. She’d insisted on carrying it. If a whole posse of killers showed up, we’d be ready.
Hester couldn’t follow the rules. We were supposed to ride single file, but she kept urging her horse — a hammer-headed gray — up next to Drew. She batted all of her eyelashes at him, shook her tiny bosom, and generally made a nuisance of herself. Audra kept telling her to get back in line but Hester ignored her. Audra’s face began turning the color of the sorrel pony she was riding, and her nostrils flared.
“I just love a cowboy,” Hester gushed at Drew. “So manly and romantic.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Drew almost stammered. “I’m not much of a cowboy, though. I can scarce rope a steer.”
“I’m sure you have other talents,” breathed Hester, leaning toward the poor boy and almost falling out of her saddle.
“We’re supposed to be riding single-file, ma’am,” said Drew. “Like Audra said.”
“Oh, who listens to little old Audra?” simpered Hester. “It’s so much cozier riding by your side. Is that a real gun?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I don’t aim to shoot it.”
Audra had had enough.
“Drew!” she called. “Ride on up ahead and make sure that bear Mrs. Hatchett shot at last night ain’t waiting for us.”
Drew, happy to get away, spurred his mount and trotted up the trail, sans Hester.
Audra grabbed Hester’s horse’s bridle. “You ride behind. We got rules on this ranch.”
Hester protested. “But I want to hear about the bear.”
“Later,” Audra told her.
Hester sulked, but waited for the rest of us to pass her so she could dine on our dust.
We clung to our cayuses up a winding trail that was half mud, the horse’s hooves slipping. I thought one of us was sure to fall off, but it didn’t happen. Audra made us sing cowboy songs, but Hester insisted on crooning every one of them like they were torch songs. Her voice was husky, sultry, and completely off key. Audra finally told us all we’d done enough singing for one day. Around noon, we rode into a clearing backed by a big pile of boulders. Amidst the rocks the squared timbers of an old mine entrance showed.
We all climbed off our horses. Sheepy made a hitch rail by stretching a rope between two trees. He tied up our nags for us. He stayed outside to watch the livestock while the rest of us stacked our cowboy hats on some big rocks and donned miner’s hats that Drew and Audra passed out to us. The little tin hats had battery-powered lights on their fronts. We switched them on.
“Everybody stay close and stay together,” Audra told us. “We don’t want anybody wandering off and getting lost.”
I saw Tracy unwrapping some bubble gum. She put three pieces into her ample mouth and started chewing. She gave me a wink. I had no idea what the hell she was up to.
“Watch where you step,” Drew told us. “There’s water dripping from the roof and the floors are nothing but loose gravel.”
We lined up in single file. Tracy bumped me with her shoulder and headed up behind Audra. I followed along. Hester took her place behind Drew, and Walter and Betsy brought up the rear. The mineshaft sloped downward and snaked all over the place. The rough rock ceiling was partly held up with timbers hewn from entire tree trunks. The place was a good ten degrees cooler than the outside. We plodded along like blind snails and every so often Audra stopped us to point out some feature of interest. A streak of
gold ore, some mica, a natural rock shaped like a duck’s head. After a time we came to a blacker spot in the darkness. Our lights showed us a ragged hole with some cold air coming out of it.
“This here’s the cave entrance,” Audra explained. “This old mine had a nice vein of gold, but it played out. This hole they blasted was a last effort to find more gold. Blasty the miner was killed here. Keep your eyes peeled for his ghost. We’re going to enter the cave now. The ceiling’s low and there’s spots where we’ve stretched ropes to keep you from stepping off into big holes. Be careful, dudes. Don’t even think about straying from the trail.
We followed Audra and Drew, Tracy smacking her bubble gum and practically stepping on Audra’s heels. She blew a big bubble and popped it. I thought her cave manners could use some improving. We ducked under stalactites, clamored over stalagmites, brushed against clammy walls, all the time shining our headlights around. At one point, the cave opened up into a pretty good-sized cavern, and there were some kind of quartz crystals all over the walls. They winked and glimmered in our lights and put on quite a show. Audra stopped us so we could appreciate the underground jewels.
“Keep close together now, folks,” Audra told us. “We’re getting close to the spot where Blasty likes to show up. You’ll know him by his long white beard.”
“Maybe he’s really Santa,” said Walter.
“Laugh if you want,” said Audra, “but I’m telling you, the ghost is real. I’ve seen him myself.”
Hester squealed and pressed herself against Drew.
“What happens if we pull on his beard?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t,” said Audra. “Blasty carries a big Colt revolver. He might shoot your tin hat off.”
We crossed the big cavern and entered another tunnel. Water dripped all over us. A cold breeze blew in from somewhere.
“Is there another entrance to the cave?” asked Betsy. “Where’s that air coming from?”
“Nobody’s ever found another entrance,” said Drew. “We’ve looked. There’s no telling how that wind gets in here.”
Jack The Roper (Axel Hatchett Mystery Book 6) Page 13
