Now it was time for quiet movement again. Ed thought of taking off the spurs, but they were too bulky and sharp to stow in a pocket, and he didn’t want to leave them behind in case he had to leave this place in a hurry. So he kept them on and tried to take soft steps.
He paused at the door to the office, tried to quiet his breathing, and listened. No sounds came. He pictured Ramsey seated behind the desk and pointing a pistol at the door—or maybe a shotgun from the glass-and-wood case behind the desk, as he recalled. He tried the knob. It turned, but the door was locked. He expected a bullet to come ripping through the door panel, but silence hung on. He rattled the door-knob, then listened. Still no sound. He wondered if Ramsey went out the window. It would be an effort for the heavy man and a bit of a drop to the ground, but he could do it.
Ed rattled the doorknob again, and when he had scarcely let it go he leaned back and kicked the knob square with the sole of his boot.
The door flew open, splintering the doorjamb, and from where he had jumped to one side, Ed could see there was no one in the room. Stepping inside, he saw that the window was latched. That could not have been done by anyone crawling out.
The gun case. Ed went to it and inspected around its edges, looking for a hinge or crack but finding none. The case was built into the wall and varnished all the way around. He stood back and surveyed the wall. Above the gun case, a set of deer antlers was mounted on a varnished wood plaque, which in turn was attached to the wall with two brass screws with large round heads. The wall was a solid piece.
Turning to the left side of the room, which had a ceiling-high bookcase running its length, he continued his search. He knew the bookcase didn’t lead to anything, because on the other side of this wall was an open room, a continuation of the front room with the high ceiling.
Ed looked up at the low ceiling of the office. He saw that it had no hatchway, so he went back to examining the bookcase. At last he found a latch, inside the right end of the middle shelf. It was a rounded brass plate with indentations for his fingertips. Pressing the heel of his hand against the trim of the bookcase, he squeezed the latch toward him and heard a click.
The wall with the gun case moved a quarter of an inch away, and Ed gave it a push. It swung into dark empty space, where the musty smell of a cellar rose up and a set of wooden steps led down into darkness. Ramsey was hidden in there somewhere, and Ed had to go down and get him.
Leaving the hinged wall open to give him what-ever light straggled in, Ed went down the stairs, troubled at each step by the sound of a spurred boot. At the bottom, he moved into darkness. He had no idea what the layout was like, and he didn’t dare light a match and make himself a target.
If all Ramsey wanted to do was hide, he could do that well enough. But he couldn’t shoot at his pursuer down in this hole, not without light, and he would have a hard time going past him to get back upstairs. Once the pursuer knew about it, this hole wasn’t much good for a man alone. It didn’t make enough sense.
Of course. No one with Ramsey’s devious mind would have a hole with only one way out. The trouble was, he knew where the other exit was and could find it in the dark. The pursuer couldn’t. Ramsey had probably come up like a gopher somewhere and was coming around the front way to get the drop on Ed when he came out of the office or up out of the cellar.
Now was a time to do something about the jingling noise. Holstering his gun, Ed sat down in the dark and pulled off his boots. Next he unbuckled each spur and tucked it into its respective boot. Then, holding the pair by the pull straps, he drew his gun and walked back to the faint light coming down the staircase.
Ramsey could be waiting for him in the office, but Ed had to take that chance. The big boss could even close the passage and have Pat stand guard with a shotgun until the other men came in. Ed couldn’t wait and let him do something like that either.
Sock-footed, he went up the steps, keeping to his left so that the boards wouldn’t creak and so that he wouldn’t make as good a target. He ducked under the dummy wall where it hung out over the chasm, and he moved on up into the office. Still nothing.
He crossed the office and paused at the doorway, then stepped through and to one side in order not to make a silhouette. Searching the dusky room, he saw a shape that gave him a start. Ramsey was kneeling by the dead body of George the brute and was hovering over it. Ed imagined the man was checking for signs of life and in his focused attention had not heard any padded footsteps. Yet the two shadowy forms looked like something other than human—like two ungainly creatures, one giant turtle trying to climb over another.
Ed held his boots out to his side at arm’s length and dropped them. As Ramsey rose up with a jerk, Ed said, “Careful, Mort. Take it slow. I’m the one with the gun now.” He clicked the hammer to make his point.
Ramsey stood. “I know who you are.”
“You know a lot.”
“You’re the bastard.”
The word stung, but Ed held the gun firm. “And you’re the killer. Not man enough to do it yourself, but brave enough to hire it done.”
“And you’ve been to see the whore.”
“Don’t worry about her.”
“Never happy unless she could have another man.” Ramsey’s form wavered in the shadowy light that faded where he stood.
“Hold still.”
“So you’re giving orders. Who do you think you are? A little pup that should have been drowned before it opened its eyes.”
“Well, they’ve been opened.” Ed glanced at the dead form and back at Ramsey. “As for who I think I am, I’ll tell you what I told Bridge. I told him it was my turn to be the stranger who came to call. That’s where we are now. I gave him a chance to have his say, and I’m givin’ you the same.”
“To have my say about what?”
“About Jake Bishop.”
Ramsey was silent for a couple of seconds. Then he spoke as he took a step to his right. “A little slobbering blind pup with its tongue stuck out where it was pulled from its mother’s tit.”
“Keep still.”
Ramsey took another step to get around the body on the floor. “Wet behind the ears. Did you come here wet from her bed as well?”
Ed’s hand was shaking, and he felt like shouting, but he said in a calm voice, “I told you to hold still.”
“I piss on you and your—” Ramsey pulled at the ivory-handled gun and had it halfway up when Ed pulled the trigger.
The big man flinched with the shock. He straightened up and held his arms close in to his chest with his hands flared outward, so that in silhouette he looked like a toad on its back. Then he fell slumped over the body of his henchman.
It did not take long for Ed to put on his boots, find a couple of kerosene lamps, and get a fire going. With Pat looking on, Ed waited outside until flames broke through the roof. Then, with black smoke billowing for the men to see from the hayfield, he mounted the buckskin and rode away from the King Diamond Ranch in Thunder Basin.
After camping in the open, Ed arrived at the Iris at midmorning. Ravenna met him in the dining room and told him right away that Cam Shepard had died the day before.
“It’s too bad,” she said, leading the way to the back porch. “Even if his health was not good, he could have lived a little longer.”
Outside, in the shade of the porch, Ed looked around to make sure no one was nearby. “Well, the ones who did it can’t answer for any more than they already have.”
She turned to let her eyes meet his. “Then you—” “Yes, I did. They would have gotten me if I hadn’t. They were looking for me already. And by the way, it did seem as if they forced something out of Cam Shepard, for all the good it did them.”
Her eyes seemed to be taking in all of him in a positive appraisal. “I’m glad you came out of it all right.”
“So am I, of course. It helped to know that you were behind me. You believed in me.”
“And I still do.” Standing next to him, she joined her h
and with his.
“I appreciate it. You know, through all of this, it’s seemed that you and I have a lot in common. We grew up outside the regular pattern of things, and we’ve had to take life as it was handed to us.”
Her eyes were at once hard and soft as they met his again. “And we both believe that people shouldn’t get away with things that aren’t right.”
He took her in his arms for a long kiss. Releasing her, he said, “I was afraid to do too much of this before I got those other things settled. I was afraid the thoughts would distract me, get me off track.”
“Now you can do it as much as you want.” She gave him back all his kiss and more.
“Whew!” he said, straightening his hat and catching his breath. “We need to go away somewhere.”
Her eyes were sparkling now. “You think so?”
“Yes, but before we do anything else, I want to show you something.”
“Not the bone-handled—”
“No. Something round and a little more feminine.” He drew from his pocket the small pasteboard box.
A smile played on her face as she took the package, opened it, and unwrapped the little bundle in tissue. Then she placed the ring in her bare palm, where the deep red gem sparkled. “It’s beautiful.”
“The jeweler said it’s a garnet. I hope you can accept it from Mr. Edward Bishop.”
She kissed him again, light and lovely. “I don’t see why not.”
Stranger in Thunder Basin (Leisure Historical Fiction) Page 20
