"Ain't you gonna bury your Pa with your ma?" Billy asked. His mind obviously scattered at all the news.
Joe turned in his saddle to stare at Billy. "Nope, Pa was in the mine to steal the money from us and head out. He don't deserve to rest in peace with Ma. Ma was a God-fearin' woman. She deserves to have a fine funeral, but not Pa. Let the buzzards have him."
The boys nodded. "It's hard to believe him turnin' on us like that."
Joe reined his horse in and stopped to look at them all. "Not for me it isn't. He lied to Ma many a time. He was greedy too, and when Ma got sick, he was just sittin' around waitin' for her to die. Well, she died. That made him a free man again, and he could do what he wanted. And what he wanted was to take all the money and get out of here."
"She was a mighty fine woman," Harley nodded.
"She was for sure. And in my fashion, I'll miss the old gal. Wish things could have been different…" Joe murmured as he moved on again.
The Dugan ranch was only a couple hours ride away. They'd see to him then go back for the funeral the next day. Hopefully Dugan had the money with him.
"How we gonna do this Joe?" Harley asked as they neared the Dugan place.
"Old man Dugan only has a daughter, no one else lives with him. We'll just ride in and ask to speak to him and then find out about our money." Joe informed them.
"What about his ranch hands?"
"Well, we'll do what we got to do. Generally, the only hand that goes into the ranch house is the foreman. If he comes in, we'll just have to take care of him too."
"But…we ain't never visited the Dugan ranch, before." Billy complained.
"True, but Ma's dead. And she was friends with the man, so I think he should be told about her death so he can come to the funeral that is if he is still alive." Joe chuckled.
When Joe knocked on the front door, Sally Dugan came to the door. She didn't recognize them so she asked who they were and what they wanted.
Joe looked her over, undressing her with his eyes. Sally Dugan was young, and pretty and the daughter of a very rich man. Joe could do a lot worse, he thought to himself.
Her face flushed at the way he was looking at her.
"We came to see your Pa. You see, my Ma she passed away night before last." Joe tipped his hat and took it off and into his hands.
"Oh…I'm so sorry to hear that. Well, yes, come on in, I'll get my father…" She said sweetly. "That's just terrible."
She led them to the parlor and they sat down and waited for Mr. Dugan. Joe glanced around the house and admired the animal heads on the wall, a few Indian relics and a western painting. A book collection lined one shelf above the mantle.
"Boys, someday we'll have money to buy these kinds of things." Joe muttered.
"Oh gentleman, these things weren't bought, I killed the animals myself and collected the Indian relics off dead Indians. I also knew the artist that painted that picture. The rugs are genuine cow skins. The guns are mine. So as you can see, it wouldn't take a rich person to have what I have, just an industrious one." He nodded to the men with a smile. "Sally told me your Ma passed away? I offer my condolences and I will miss her. She was one exceptional lady."
"Yes sir, she was. Consumption did her in. The funeral is tomorrow. We figured you would want to know." Joe explained. "What kind of animal is that there hanging on your wall? I ain't seen one like that before?"
"It's a lion." Mr. Dugan smiled.
"Like a mountain lion?" Joe asked and squinted trying to compare them.
"No, it's from Africa. I visited the land once and was in on the kill for it. Had it stuffed."
"So you been to Africa?" Joe smirked.
"Africa, Central and South America, Europe, even China." Dugan beamed.
"You must be a pretty wealthy man then?" Joe was still smirking.
"I suppose I have more than my fair share of things, all things considered." Dugan chuckled. "Listen, I appreciate you riding all the way over to tell me personally. What time will the funeral be?"
"Around two." Joe answered.
Mr. Dugan nodded, "We'll be there. Was there anything else?"
Joe frowned. "Anything else?"
"Yes, did you want something else of me? I've got a previous engagement to attend to; gentleman or I'd offer you tea."
"Tea…well, yeah, there's something else."
Joe could see plainly that he didn't care to talk small talk with them. He fidgeted, looking from one man to the other. Then Joe put his hat on his head and stared at Mr. Dugan. "Say have you been to the mine lately?"
"The mine? Why, no, I've had that closed for nigh on to three years now. I haven't been out there in some time. I usually send a man around to check on things every now and then, you know vandalism from passersby or kids." Mr. Dugan said checking his pocket watch as though he had to be somewhere soon.
Mr. Dugan stared at Joe for a long time. It was the way he stared that had Harley uncomfortable.
Suddenly Jed pushed him up beside the wall and held him at gunpoint, shoving his chin in as far as he could.
Mr. Dugan struggled and turned two shades of red.
"Now," Joe stood before him. "Let's try that one more time. You been to the mine lately?"
"No…why would I? I closed it years ago…" Mr. Dugan repeated. His face turned bright red one minute then white the next, his eyes widened with apprehension.
"Because my Pa was killed there just a couple of days ago." Joe came closer. "And it's your mine. Your property. Maybe you found him trespassing and decided to kill him. Now you want to say anything about that? Nothing incriminating about that, I'd have done the same if it were my property."
Mr. Dugan's body was trembling from fear. "Your Pa. I had little regard for your father, but I haven't laid eyes on him in a couple of years. As much as I didn't like the way he treated your mother, I would never have killed him."
"Well, Mr. Dugan, you're right about my mother. Pa was mean to her. He was mean to us all. Never understood it, he didn't like nobody. But let's get back to the facts. It's your property, your mine. Who else would go there?"
"Well," he swallowed now as though he knew he was in trouble. "Anyone could. Some of my men, travelers, anyone. That's why I send a man around about once a month to check it."
"I think we've narrowed it down that you were there and you killed my Pa and took the money." Joe's face was a mask of emotions and his eyes looked delirious.
"But you are wrong. I don't know anything about any money. What money?"
"The money my Pa had on him. So…are you gonna tell us where you hid it." Joe asked.
"In the first place, how would I know your father was carrying money on him? And as I said, I send someone around every now and then. But not lately. You've got the wrong man!" He nearly shouted. "I had nothing to do with your Pa, or your money. I have enough money of my own. Why would I rob your father?"
The noise brought Sally into the room. "What are you doing…to my father…" She screamed. Trying to reach her father, she swayed toward him. Billy laughed and swung her around the room almost as if dancing with her. Billy smiled into her perplexed face.
Jed released his hold on Mr. Dugan as he struggled to get his breath.
Instead, he came up to Sally now and slapped her across the room as she tried to lung toward her father. She fell and hit her head on the stone fireplace. She wasn't moving.
"You've killed her…" Mr. Dugan shouted. "You've killed my baby!" He yelled. "I'll hunt you down and kill all of you for this…"
"If you don’t tell me what you did with that money, you are gonna be dead too." Joe promised.
"I don't know what money you are talking about. The only money I have is in the bank."
Joe's trigger finger etched toward his gun, menacingly.
"Even if I had seen your father, which I hadn't. I wouldn't suspect him of having any money. I've never known him to have a cent, except for whiskey." Mr. Dugan's voice sounded suddenly bereft. His eyes filled with n
ew sorrow as he stared at his daughter's lifeless body.
Joe's eyes were glassy now.
"I swear I'm telling the truth. I thought by now you'd know the truth. I thought she would have told you…" He ground out the words harshly as he glared at Joe.
Joe stared at him as though he hadn't a clue as to what he was saying. "I don't know what you are talking about…and I don't care…"
Joe's voice was like ice, cold and unfeeling. He'd lost his patience with this aristocratic snob of a man. He left no doubt that he thought himself better than Joe and his bunch. That he thought himself elevated. Rage flew through Joe like a cyclone.
"Kill him." Joe snarled, done with his smugness.
Harley made a face, his apprehension growing. Jed pulled his gun and shot the man dead center of the heart. It was over in a flash, almost as though the scene before hadn't happened at all.
The tension drained like the blood leaking onto the floor. "Jed, you are so good at it, getting that bullet dead center like you did."
Jed chuckled, and holstered his gun.
"Search the house. Tear it apart if you have to. But find that money."
Joe walked over to Sally and bent to make sure she was dead. He picked up her hand and shook his head. "We didn't mean to kill you, just shut you up…little lady. You are much too pretty to kill. I would have liked to dance with you."
She stared unseeing at him. Her eyes haunted Joe as he stared at her limp body.
The slightest of shivers ran rampant through his body, and he backed away quickly, startled.
The boys meanwhile were tearing everything up. They ripped the mattresses, through all the books off the shelves, went through the kitchen and scattered pots and pans and dishes. They even went out on the back porch and checked there. Still, they came up empty handed. "There ain't no money here, Joe!" Harley told him.
"Search them…" He pointed to the bodies.
"Maybe he put it in the bank."
Joe thought about that a moment. "Now that would sure put the syrup on the pancake wouldn't it. Steal money that we stole from the same bank, and put it back in the bank. That's almost funny."
He scratched his chin. "We'll check into that later."
Someone came up to the back porch and was about to come in. Jed aimed and shot him. The man slumped against the doorframe. It happened in a flash of a second.
Harley went thoroughly over the bodies and shook his head. "Nothing here."
Joe looked at the girl once more. The eeriness of her glaring death sent a ripple of fear straight to his heart. Shaking his head, to clear his thinking, he moved outside to the front porch. "Let's ride."
He wouldn't think about the girl, he told himself, but to no avail. Her image followed him.
Yet something suddenly pulled at him to look back at the place, and think about the two people lying dead there. For some reasons their deaths bothered him more than his own father. It bothered him that Sally lay so helpless, killed so innocently, and he had cast her one last glance, holding it in his memory. What was Dugan trying to tell him at the end? He might never know now. And who was supposed to have told him? It niggled in his mind like a nagging headache he couldn't get rid of. What truth did the dead hold over him?
"You know…" Harley looked back at the house and then at Joe. "You look a lot like Dugan and his daughter. Did you see the resemblance?"
"You need your eyes examined, Harley." Joe laughed. "'Course Ma was partial to Old Man Dugan, and despite what you might think; the town wasn't always nice to my Ma. There were rumors about her and Dugan. That they almost married."
"Why didn't they?" Billy asked out of curiosity.
"He was already betrothed or something. Never set much stock in gossips though, you know how rumors get started. Dugan and his daughter are nothing to me."
They headed back to the home place, and an eerie feeling assailed Joe all evening. He couldn't shake it; it made him jumpy and nervous.
Chapter Twelve
Finally making it to the cabin, Gil motioned for Callie to go on in, while he put the horses up. He handed her a saddlebag of food and coffee. The corral and small lean-to was nearly a quarter mile up the hill from the house, so it took him a while to get them bedded down.
Callie in the meantime looked the place over, as she laid the saddlebags on the counter.
It wasn't anything but a line shack. It had a small fireplace for cooking over with a pothook and two kettles, different sizes, and one sawbuck table with a couple of chairs. The bed was just a bunk and a curtain hid the closet to hang clothes on. It did have a plank floor and because of it, wasn't as drafty.
From the knife marks, she could tell the counter had been used frequently for chopping. Used to making her own fire, she didn't hesitate getting one going in the fireplace, as there was plenty of wood stacked beside it.
Remembering the coffee Gil had handed her when she dismounted, she immediately went to making some at the fire.
It was chilly up here in the hills, and the fire felt pleasant and welcoming. She watched the flames dance and waited for the coffee. Things had moved so quickly since she left the mine with Gil that she hadn't had time to reflect on it. Perhaps that was wise anyway. She couldn't change her circumstance.
She sat at the table when it was ready with a cup in her hand. She felt strange being here. One minute everything had been fine at home, and then things changed in a heartbeat.
She couldn't keep her mind from wandering though.
She wondered about Mrs. Boggs. And if Joe had found his father or not. It was hard to believe that the little boy that used to go to school with her was now an outlaw, a bank robber, and what was worse, would soon be after her.
Facing the reality, there was only one fate for Joe now and she faced it squarely. He'd either hang or be shot.
She remembered with clarity that day they came home from robbing the bank, how they bragged in front of her. Joe would remember that too. Naturally, the liquor they consumed caused their loose tongues, but it had unknowingly put her at a disadvantage from that moment.
It was noble of Gil to try to keep her safe, but she couldn't help but wonder if she really was in danger. She'd spent so many years denying that Joe was bad, and yet she didn't have a hard time putting him there now. He was wild, and robbing the bank was wrong, she knew that, but Joe wasn't a killer too, was he?
She didn't give Joe as much credit as Gil had. She figured it would take him weeks to figure it all out. Joe only went to the third grade and quit, so he wasn't overly intelligent. Perhaps that was part of the reason she'd always had a soft spot for him. Callie had prided herself in teaching herself and Sam. She didn't want him to grow up ignorant. Sam never minded her teaching him. He seemed to enjoy the attention she gave him.
But Joe even without education had one thing going for him; he had a lot of common sense and ingenuity to use it when needed. He'd survived his life by his wits.
There were a lot of ifs to think about. If there had been more time when Mr. Boggs showed up at the mine. If she'd have gone home, instead. She could have arranged to buy a couple of tickets to go visit her aunt again. Although her Aunt was ailing on her last visit and she wouldn't appreciate the intrusion.
She leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to shut out the nightmare of what had happened.
Meanwhile Gil came inside. When he saw her with her eyes closed, he assumed she was sleeping.
He started to pick her up.
"What are you doing?" She protested when his arms gathered her against him.
"I thought you went to sleep in the chair." He looked perplexed. "I was going to lay you on the bunk. So you could get some sleep."
"I was just resting my eyes. I’m tired, not sleepy." She said. She looked at her position. "You can put me down anytime Gil."
"Sorry," he apologized. He quickly realized that being this close did affect him. She could feel the immediate tension in his strong arms.
He set her down, and tur
ned away for a second, getting his bearings.
"Want some coffee?" she offered.
"Sounds good. I got the horses put away, fed and watered. The lean-to is a ways from here, so not anyone riding up would know for sure if there was anyone here or not. Unless of course, they saw the smoke stack. But I don't think we need to worry about it for a few days at least." Gil explained. "My brothers packed us some good foods, bacon, beans, bread, ham, that sort of thing. We can eat pretty well."
"I haven't seen those two in a long time." Callie recalled. "It's seems yesterday we were all kids."
"They are working on building up their ranches. Saul's got a girlfriend; he plans to marry this winter." Gil was telling her. "You probably know her, Roberta Flock."
"Of course I do. I had no idea Saul had been courting her. She's a nice girl. She comes from a good family too."
"He's been seeing her for over a year now, and they decided it was time to tie the knot." Gil informed her. "So naturally he wants everything to be nice and new for her.
"He's the oldest, right?"
"Yeah, then there is David, and then me…"
"Has David got a girl?" She asked sipping her coffee and looking at him above the rim.
"No, not exactly, but he's sure been looking." Gil chuckled. "Didn't you see him at the dance taking turns with every available girl? He's sort of partial to Sally Dugan, but you know how Mr. Dugan is so strict with her. He never lets her out of his sight. David has to sneak her away if he wants to talk to her at all."
"Sally and David. I always liked Sally, even if she doesn't see things from all sides sometimes. Her father has a lot of influence on her." She paused putting her cup on the table and her elbows there so she could lay her chin on her folded hands. "There's something I need to ask you, Gil." She said hesitantly.
"Yeah?"
"Remember that summer you jumped in the creek to save me?"
"Sure I do. You were barely twelve then. Your daddy was out there too, but he didn't make a move to save you. Just sat there on the bank and watched. I saw you when I passed by. But I didn't realize you were drowning until you went all the way under for so long. Why?"
Brides of the West-Part One Page 71
