Stone of Vengeance

by Vickie Britton

  The idea hadn’t struck her until she had stepped into the bar: Barkley might actually be hired by Swen as an inside man, working for Swen instead of Kingsley. The thought caused her to draw to an uncertain halt.

  Kate stepped further into the darkened interior, assailed by the smell of beer and greasy food. A crowd had gathered near a big-screen TV, loudly cheering a favourite team.

  Kate, eyes adjusting to the light, looked around for Hal Barkley, but settled instead, on the familiar face of Jake Pierson. The museum curator, a half-finished hamburger before him, sat at a secluded booth some distance from the TV. Kate drew in her breath. Seated next to him was the man with the peroxide hair she had seen watching her at Pauley’s Auction Barn.

  Jake Pierson glanced up, an affable smile lighting his face. She watched as he lifted a plastic tray, scooped the remainder of his lunch into the waste bin, and strode toward her. Today the tied-back hair, the phony Western image, or maybe the company he kept, made him look at home in these dim, grungy surroundings.

  ‘So what’s a nice girl like you doing in this place full of ruffians?’ he quipped.

  ‘My job,’ Kate replied. ‘I’m looking for Hal Barkley.’

  “Hal?’ Pierson’s alertly skimmed the room. ‘I thought I saw him come in a while ago.’

  As he spoke, Barkley appeared from the dark recesses of the bar with a mug of beer and slipped into the seat Pierson had just vacated.

  ‘There he is,’ Pierson said. ‘He was lying in wait to steal my seat.’ His voice lowered, although no one could have heard him anyway over the racket. ‘Can’t say I’m sorry. I ducked in to grab a bite to eat and catch the score when that character they call Slim sits down right next to me.’ He gave a mock shudder. ‘Like trying to eat with Billy the Kid. Enough to ruin my appetite.’

  So now the surly cowboy had a name. Slim.

  Barkley, leaning forward, said something to Slim that caused him to turn towards her. His long angular face – if possible – appeared even more cold and frightening than at their last meeting.

  Kate, pretending not to notice, looked quickly back at Jake Pierson, who had by this time come back into focus as the kindly, educated man who had assisted her at the museum. ‘Who is that man with Barkley?’ she asked him. ‘Does he work for the Rocking C?’

  ‘Slim, that’s all I know. In fact, from the sight of him, that’s all I want to know.’ Pierson’s gaze, filled with concern, shifted back to her. ‘He’s sure giving you a murderous look. Do you think you should stay here?’

  ‘I need to talk to Barkley.’

  ‘I’ll be glad to accompany you,’ he offered gallantly. ‘We can both go over there now if you like.’

  ‘Thanks, but no need.’

  As soon as the museum curator left, Kate headed to their table. Barkley, muscular arms propped on his elbows, seemed only half hearing what Slim was saying to him. A sharp frown cut between his brows. When he replied, it must have been not to Slim’s liking, for he was holding his ground in a mean, sullen way. His hair, pale in the dull light, looked purposefully bleached and hung in shaggy lengths across his denim jacket.

  Kate, heart pounding, stopped at their table. Slim glared at her, the same way he had when he was spying on her at Pauley’s Auction. More than ever, Kate was convinced that he was the one who had sabotaged her tyre, causing her to break down on that deserted road.

  ‘You’d better not be following me,’ he said in an undertone.

  Barkley spoke harshly, ‘She’s here to see me.’

  The blond man, a match for Barkley in combativeness, angrily grabbed his Stetson and left the bar.

  ‘What do you want?’

  Kate slipped into the seat Slim had vacated. Her voice rose, battling the shouting and the blare of the television as she said, ‘We haven’t really had a chance to talk. I need for you to answer a few questions.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘To begin with, how long have you worked for the Rocking C?’

  ‘Two years, going on three. Long enough to hate those vipers at the Double S.’

  ‘Where did you work before Mr Kingsley hired you?’

  ‘I owned a little spread of my own between here and Laramie. Had to sell out.’ He added, a bit resentfully, ‘too hard for the little guys to make a go of it in this economy.’

  ‘How did you meet Charles Kingsley?’

  ‘At a rodeo in Casper,’ he replied. ‘Slim, that guy I was talking to when you came in, rode the circuit then. Charles and I began making friendly bets on Slim’s success. I usually won. Anyway, we got to be buddies, and Charles offered me a job. But what’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘What can you tell me about your friend Slim?’

  ‘I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend. Slim’s a fellow rancher. Runs the Bar 8 over near the Colorado border. I do a little business with him now and then, that’s all.’

  ‘What’s his last name?’

  ‘Barton.’

  ‘What else can you tell me about him?’

  ‘Slim worked for Charles once, but that was before I hired on. That’s all I know about him.’ He fell obstinately silent.

  ‘I suppose you met Jennie Irwin in Casper, too.’

  The mention of her name caused him to brighten. ‘I did. Little Jennie is a fan of anything Western. She loves horses.’ He added proudly, ‘Years back she was voted Casper’s rodeo queen.’ He paused, smiled, then added, ‘Some little gal. I dated her myself a few times, but lost out the minute I introduced her to my boss.’

  ‘What about Swen? Was he acquainted with her, too?’

  ‘I hear he courted her once, or tried to. That fell by the way, lucky for her.’

  ‘How long did they see each other?’

  ‘However long it took her to find out how no-good he is. And not long after she met Charles. Jennie’s friendly, but she doesn’t play the field any. She’s the faithful kind.’

  So many possibilities existed, so many ways a clever person could take control of Kingsley’s fortune.

  ‘Charles did the right thing when he made me foreman,’ he boasted. ‘Jennie can depend on me.’

  ‘You’ve been ranching most of your life, haven’t you?’ Kate asked. ‘You must have had experience dealing with cattle rustling. Is there anything you can tell me about how a rustler works?’

  Barkley frowned sharply as if she were accusing him, then he ran a work-hardened hand against his beard before he replied. ‘Most of the scum I’ve run into are small-timers. They steal calves before they’re branded. But what I’m up against here is a big-money man who’s too slippery to take the fall himself. Swen had no earthly reason to be stealing from us, only vengeance. He’d go to any length to watch Kingsley sweat. He chuckled over being able to profit himself from Kingsley’s loss.’

  ‘But Swen claims to have missing cattle, too.’

  ‘So he says. But he’s the one who got caught red-handed. Charles found proof of his guilt and intended to go for his throat.’

  ‘What reason do you have for thinking Swen’s guilty?’

  ‘Because I know,’ Barkley replied, leaning across the table, ‘just how they do it. They tear down their own fences, let their cattle run with ours. Then they load them up and take ours as well. Wouldn’t be any trick to alter a brand from a Rocking C to a Double S. The last time I found a fence cut, that’s when I went over there to have it out with them. Of course then I didn’t know about the lawsuit Charles was filing.’

  ‘What happened once you accused Swen?’

  ‘He ordered me to get off his land and when I didn’t, he turned that thug Garrison loose on me. I did a lot of defending myself.’

  Kate still didn’t know any more about who started the fight than she had before, although she had her suspicions. Barkley had trouble looking innocent, even now when he was making every effort to do so.

  ‘What will happen to the lawsuit? Have you talked to Kingsley’s lawyer?’

  ‘The whole thing is dead in the
water. Charles had just spoken to his attorney on the phone, but hadn’t turned over the evidence. And none of us know exactly what proof he had.’

  Barkley stared morosely down at the table, a frown cutting a deep line between his eyes. ‘If you ask me,’ he said bitterly, ‘it’s not over yet. Not even with Charles dead and buried. I think Ty Garrison has stopped following Swen’s orders and has begun to work for himself.’

  After Kate left the bar, she went directly out to Swen’s ranch. An elderly housekeeper answered the door and left her standing on the porch for a long while before she returned. ‘This way. Mr Swen is in his study.’

  Kate’s anxiety had grown during the long wait, but as she entered the house, she thought of the last time she’d been here, of Ty and of the warm comforting fire.

  Swen was seated at a huge walnut desk before scatterings of ledgers and papers. The way he rose in such gentlemanly fashion caused Kate to picture him in an elegant suit rather than in dusty denims. She waited without speaking, expecting the same rudeness she had faced from the men at the bar.

  Instead he asked quietly, ‘How’s Ben?’

  ‘He’s still in the hospital. The doctors keep running tests. So far they have come up with nothing. They’re beginning to believe his problems must be stress related.’

  ‘Or doughnut related.’ Swen’s smile made his lined face look less hard. ‘What brings you here?’

  ‘Unanswered questions,’ Kate said. ‘Do you mind helping me out?’

  Swen sank back into the leather chair. ‘Not in the least.’

  ‘Who generally drives the truck that rammed into my squad car?’

  ‘Mostly the help I hire for the house. The cook takes it to Rock Creek every Friday for supplies. Other than that, I guess Ty uses it the most.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Not often, but at times.’

  ‘You told me that you always left the keys in it. That would make it accessible to, say, someone from the Kingsley’s ranch.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’d like to know more about Kingsley’s foreman. Is there anything you can tell me.’

  ‘Barkley ran a ranch west of Laramie, but drank and gambled and went belly up.’ Swen added in the same even tone, ‘Kingsley could never tell the sheep from the goats.’

  ‘I’ve just come from talking to him. Of course, he thinks the thefts are coming from your ranch.’

  ‘And I always believed the devilment sprang right from the Lazy C. Until recently, that is.’

  ‘When I was here last, you were about to give me your opinion of what’s been going on.’ Kate waited, reading in his manner the fact that Swen no longer considered confiding in her. Jeff had ruined that.

  ‘I’ve tried to work with the sheriff’s department in the past,’ he replied, ‘with zero results.’

  ‘But I’m the acting sheriff now. And I think we would both gain by joining forces.’

  ‘Haven’t you been in enough danger already? I don’t want to involve you in any more.’

  ‘You might be the one in danger, Mr Swen.’

  ‘You don’t have to warn me, Kate,’ he replied, ‘or protect me either. I always work solo and accept full responsibility for my decisions.’

  Kate recalled what Barkley had said about the possibility of Ty’s working for himself. Even though she didn’t agree with him, she felt obligated to pose the question. ‘What if this turns out to be an inside job?’

  ‘Then I’ll make adjustments. Recognizing the truth and facing it, that’s what life’s all about.’ Swen’s eyes held to hers, steady in his strong, weathered face. ‘But don’t worry. This isn’t any double-cross by my own men. Kingsley didn’t know the sheep from the goats, but I do.’

  ‘I’ve noticed how closely you work with Ty Garrison. You’ve given him free rein. Do you.…’

  ‘Ty’s the best friend I’ve ever had,’ he interrupted, ‘so you can get off that track.’

  Kate, reassured by his words that sounded so certain, settled back in her chair. ‘Do you know a man named Slim Barton?’

  ‘Yes. He worked for Kingsley several years ago. Another low life, always in and out of jail. A burned-out rodeo star who took to drinking. Alcohol and prison, that about sums him up.’

  ‘Who does he work for now?’

  ‘He runs a ranch of his own where he barely ekes out a living. He wouldn’t have the brains or the initiative to pull off a large-scale scheme like this.’

  ‘Could he be getting help, say, from Hal Barkley?’

  ‘Barkley wouldn’t go up against Kingsley. If the trouble is coming from the Lazy C, Kingsley instigated it. And we can’t rule that out.’ Swen was silent for a while, then added, ‘Kingsley did everyone wrong, especially that little niece of his. By rights he should have secured the ranch for her, but I hear she’s making plans to leave.’

  ‘And that means Jennie Kingsley will be in full charge.’ Kate had succeeded in bringing the subject around to her without making it obvious. ‘I suppose you were acquainted with her before their marriage?’

  Kate waited expectantly for Swen to answer and was glad when he didn’t lie.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s your impression of her?’ Kate pressed.

  ‘Jennie’s a right nice lady,’ Swen said. ‘Certainly not a troublemaker or a thief. In fact, I don’t know how she ever got mixed up with him.’

  Kate had got this far. She had to know more. ‘Did you date her before she started seeing Mr Kingsley?’

  ‘Whenever I went to Casper, I’d call her to have dinner with me. We’re friends. That’s all.’

  ‘Did you see her on Monday, the day Kingsley was shot?’

  The lines around Swen’s mouth and eyes tensed. At the same time he pushed back his chair as if in abrupt dismissal. ‘No, I did not.’

  Aware of a slight advantage, needing to push him further on the subject Kate, on impulse, took out the county map. She unfolded it and placed it in front of him on the desk. ‘Are you the one who wrote down these phone numbers?’

  ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘From the glove compartment of your black pick-up.’

  ‘I wrote down the first two,’ he said, ‘but not the last. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because I find it odd that Jennie’s phone number would be jotted down on your map.’

  Swen’s gaze remained lowered. Light glowed across his grey hair, highlighting the silver curls around his temples.

  ‘What are those?’ He indicated the three x’s spaced inches from one another.

  ‘Were you the one who marked those spots?’ Once more she felt led to believe his certain answer.

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Do they have any significance to you?’

  Swen studied the map carefully as if trying to imprint in his mind each exact location. ‘I have no idea what they mean,’ he replied shortly.

  A decided change had come over him. Swen slid the map across the desk towards her, saying, ‘That’s about all the questions I have time for today, Kate. I’ve got an appointment to keep.’

  The leaden gold of approaching dusk hugged the horizon as Kate drove towards Kingsley’s ranch. Her hands instinctively tightened on the wheel as she approached the intersection of the two blacktopped roads where Swen’s truck had sped toward her with such deadly force.

  Kate made a sharp right turn towards the Rocking C. Enough daylight existed to check out the only x marked on Kingsley’s property, a seldom, if ever used section of range high in the rugged canyon area.

  She passed Kingsley’s towering home and headed north on a narrow road past high fences and sprawling bunkhouses. Several miles beyond she spotted through a shield of cottonwoods and pines the old wooden-frame house where Kingsley’s foreman lived. She caught no sign of activity. Barkley was probably still in the Lazy Z drinking.

  The road seemed to go on forever in a series of gently winding s-curves. Kate could see the tips of purple-hazed mountains in the distance, but
all around her was grazing land interspersed by large boulders and tall, grey bluffs, like the set from some Western movie.

  She drove several more miles until she hit gravel that soon gave way to a deeply rutted dirt trail. She could see no sign of civilization except for the barbed-wire fence that marked the dividing line between the adjoining ranches. Kate continued, aware she had entered the most isolated spot of the Kingsley spread. With an area covering over a hundred square miles, it was likely Hal Barkley seldom even got around to checking this part of the ranch.

  The trail grew steep and treacherous. The Landcruiser jolted upward to a very lofty elevation. The flat terrain changed into granite ridges and forests dotted with aspen, their leaves glowing gold in the waning light.

  Kate stopped at the top of the cliff. The road continued, a deeply eroded path dropping almost straight down. She pulled out the map to orientate herself, deciding she was still miles from the marked location. Because it would soon be dark, she would not attempt this precarious descent, nor would she set out walking.

  Possibly another road existed, a more direct route to the edge of Kingsley’s property. She would investigate that tomorrow. For now, she climbed from the car breathing deeply the pine-scented air. From her panoramic view she could see the sage-covered fields she had just crossed, spotted with yellow black-eyed susans and purple asters. Cutting through the cliffs to her left, Rock Creek wound snake-like across the flat range-land towards town. The water in places appeared motionless, deep and muddy.

  When Kate turned to go back to her vehicle, she caught movement from the deep ravine below her. She shielded her eyes against the brilliant rays of dying sun and saw Swen. He walked with quick, sure stride, his hand loosely gripping a rifle.

  Why was he on Charles Kingsley’s property? She thought again of his abrupt dismissal. His ‘appointment’ must have had something to do with the x marked on the map. Swen had started out the moment she had left and taken a short cut to the site.