by Julie Weston
“Yes, the boys and Rosy, their father, are back and staying in Hailey where the boys are now going to school. They’re all healthy, and Rosy’s sister, Esther, came with them, so they’re getting a maternal touch.” Of a sort, Nell continued to herself. The parlor chairs had the look of never being used. No maternal touch there, she concluded. The sheep rancher must be lonely, having outlived both his wife and his daughter Lily.
“I’ll go up to see them tomorrow! Where are they?” Gwynn looked ready to leap up and head north right then.
“Perhaps you should wait for the weekend. And telephone Rosy to let him know, or even ask him to come here with the boys. They are darlings.” They would be good company for him, she thought.
Gwynn spluttered and swallowed all of his sherry. He stood up and poured a brown liquid into the sherry glass. “Hmmph.”
“I have been out in the lava fields with Charlie Azgo, photographing. Three people disappeared there, and we found two of them dead.”
Gwynn sat down again and sipped his new drink. “You attract dead people like coyotes to sheep, Lassie. Why don’t you settle down and act like a woman for a change. You ain’t getting any younger, you know.”
“How gallant of you to remind me, Gwynn.” Nell placed her cup in the saucer. “What do you know about a group of polygamists?” She stood up and moved to the couch next to Gwynn. “And is Cable O’Donnell one of them?”
“They’re crazy people. Who would want more than one wife for god’s sake? One’s a handful in the best of times.” He stared at Nell. “Why? Are these bodies part of that mess?”
“I don’t know. What we found is indeed strange, and I can’t get it out of my head.” She described the scene and what they learned. “One of them is still missing—the other woman. No sign of her so far.”
“What does that varmint O’Donnell have to do with this?”
“Jacob, Mr. Levine, has a photograph of him with an unusual pin in his lapel that seems to identify him as a member of the cult, I guess you’d call it. He also said O’Donnell has a wife in town. Doesn’t he have one at the ranch in Stanley? Did you meet her when you were looking for me?”
“Gol-darn. I don’t remember. I was so worried about you, I didn’t take no notice of anything except whether he was hiding you somewhere.” He paused and rubbed his hand over his thick, white hair. “There was a woman, but she mighta been a servant or something. No one said anything about a wife or introduced her. I mighta been a tad mad at everybody.”
Nellie reached to touch the old sheep rancher’s arm. “Don’t worry. And thank you again for your help in finding me! I could not have made it without you.”
“Damn near died myself up there, what with all the scalliwags and chasing around.” He put his hand on Nellie’s. “Glad to help.”
“I need to get back to the inn and look at the negatives of the photos I took at the lava fields. Could we go now? And is there any possibility you might take me up to Ketchum tomorrow after I print some of them? Otherwise, I need to work tonight and early tomorrow so I can catch the train.” She stood, but paused. “Still, you better telephone Goldie and see how to reach Rosy and the boys. I could use the time tomorrow to print photos and help Jacob. Then we could drive to Hailey when the boys are getting out of school.”
Gwynn grinned at her. “Jacob, huh? Now, he’d be a catch. Got his own business. Does darned well with it, is my guess. Even took my picture.”
“Yes, I saw it. Very handsome.”
Gwynn beamed.
“There is one more thing, Gwynn. You must promise not to cause trouble with Rosy over the boys. This was all settled last winter, and you agreed. No fights over where they live.”
His beam disappeared.
“Promise? Otherwise, I’ll take the train home, and you won’t know where they are.”
He opened and closed his mouth and finally nodded. “All right. A deal’s a deal.”
“They are staying at Charlie Azgo’s house in Hailey. Charlie broke his leg and is at Goldie’s in Ketchum until he can get around again.” This was the other reason she wanted to get back to her studio.
Nell looked through the negatives, still sick at heart when she held them up to the light and saw the tableau in the cave. Both appeared to have taken, although one had a blurry spot past the head, that lovely Madonna-like face. It was probably an icy patch farther back in the cave. She would print both. She spent the day printing most of the photos from the two bodies and then worked on several of hers that seemed worth her while. After a rest, she printed a project—another wedding—for Jacob.
As she worked, she thought again about Matt and Campbell. Those two boys needed love and support in a strange town, a new school, different living quarters—not tension and name-calling. She wondered how she could help Goldie with Charlie. She doubted he was an easy patient. Still, she had the prints to show him. Together, they might piece together what might have happened. She and Jacob had pored over the prints with a magnifying glass. They disagreed on what they saw, but, because Charlie had been there, he might have a better sense of what that blur was. Nell also realized why the poseur Effie looked familiar. The face in the cave bore a striking resemblance to Effie, quite strange unless they were related. Again, Jacob didn’t agree, but he allowed Nell to take one of the prints from his own photo session.
Next day, Nell waited for Gwynn with her bag and camera at Jacob’s studio. While she waited, a tall, older man came through the door, hat in hand, and dressed to the cowboy nines, complete with large silver belt buckle. A woman, much smaller and drab compared to his fancy duds, followed.
“Is Jacob Levine here?” And then Cable O’Donnell recognized her. “What are you doing here?” His eyes, blue and cold as they had been when she met him in the Stanley Basin, searched her from face to shoes and back up, but not all the way.
“Hello, Mr. O’Donnell.” Nell shifted so her traveling cloak covered her front. His glance lifted back to her face. “I’m waiting for Mr. Campbell to take me home. Why are you here?”
Gwynn Campbell motored up to the studio. Nellie didn’t wait for an answer. She studied, briefly, the woman with O’Donnell, but then hurried to join her ride. As she climbed into the auto, she turned back to see the woman enter the studio, but O’Donnell remained at the door and stared at her. If the dagger in his eyes could kill, she would have dropped on the spot. After their set-to in the Galena Lodge in the summer, she wondered if she had the same look in her eyes.
CHAPTER 16
Nell only knew the address of Charlie Azgo’s house. She had never been there. Even though Charlie wasn’t there—he was still Goldie’s patient—she felt nervous as she and Gwynn arrived at the front door. It was a small house, clapboard with a white picket fence around it. The yard was covered with aspen and maple leaves, all yellow, as if paved in gold. Curtains hung in the windows. Who takes care of this for him, she wondered, feeling a stab of jealousy. Don’t be silly, Nell, she told herself. Taking care of a home for a man represented all she fought against.
“Damn small. Can everyone fit in there?” Gwynn asked. Nell wondered the same question. Maybe it was bigger in back.
“Guess we’ll find out.” She stepped out of the auto as two boys slammed out the front door and Moonshine followed them. Moonie ran up to her and almost jumped up, but she stopped him. “No, Moonshine. Where are your manners?”
The boys stopped, too, as if she were scolding them. “Matt and Campbell, this is your grandfather.” She swept her arm toward Gwynn. The boys turned shy and stuck to her side. “At least shake hands,” she said. Each raised his little hand to be engulfed in Gwynn’s large one. Then, in a file, boys and dog ran back to the house, and Nell and Gwynn followed.
Inside, it was small and gloomy with dark furniture, a wood stove, and cramped kitchen. Esther stood at the stove, stirring something that smelled like venison stew. Rosy wasn’t there. One bathroom, Nell noted as she wandered around, and three small bedrooms, one with bunks in i
t. Someone had worked fast to accommodate the boys. Probably Goldie.
Gwynn stood in the kitchen doorway, looking big and uncomfortable, his Stetson in his hand as Nell introduced Esther and the rancher.
“Let’s give the boys a ride to Ketchum with us,” Nell suggested. “Is that all right, Miss Kipling? Gwynn can bring them home again after he drops me off. After all, he is their grandfather.”
Esther sniffed. “I never met him before. Rosy didn’t say anything about him.”
Nell didn’t think that was true but said nothing. Esther assented when the boys begged and pleaded to go for a ride in the automobile. Nellie thought they might have had peach pie on their minds. “I’ll see they mind,” Nell promised.
And off they went, peppering Nellie with questions for the next ten miles. “Did you find any more dead bodies?” “Did any ghosts show up?” “Can we see the pictures you took?” “Where are all the sheep?” Nell was relieved when they turned their attention to Gwynn.
“What shall we call him?” Matt whispered in Nell’s ear.
“How about Granddad? What do you think, Gwynn?” She laughed at his squirming. He wanted his grandsons, but not the title. He threw up a hand. “Guess so.”
“Granddad it is, boys.”
Moonie sat in the well by Nellie’s legs and rested his head in her lap. He seemed worn out and soon slept with her hand on his head. Maybe Rosy would have to get the boys a dog. She wasn’t going to give up hers.
In Ketchum, all four plus the dog entered the kitchen door, where Goldie also cooked. She gathered up the boys and gave them a big hug. She declined to shake Gwynn’s hand, using her floured hands as an excuse, and ignored Moonshine, who circled by the wood stove and onto his piece of carpet. “Looks like a group for peach pie!” To the accompaniment of whoops, Goldie set out filled plates of pie made from her preserved fruit and glasses of milk. Nellie just raised her eyebrows at Goldie, who motioned to the parlor.
Nellie walked softly, thinking Charlie might be asleep. She was wrong. He sat on a couch that had been used for group photographs, and he was writing in a notebook. Nellie had never seen him do that before. She realized she had only seen him in action, especially last summer, when he helped the sheepherder, arrested her, and raided a moonshine camp, and then in the caves, climbing in and out, directing others in removing bodies, setting up camp. Now, he was taking enforced rest.
“Writing?” Nellie walked over to Charlie and peered down to see his handwriting. It was neat, slanted and clearly read, not unlike the man himself, although maybe he wasn’t so transparent as she sometimes thought.
“Yes, trying to figure out where we are on this case. Two dead bodies, both moved. One eaten by animals, the other speared with a stalactite, then found at the bottom of a hole. And now these packages Mayor Tom had delivered to me.” The sheriff waved to several boxes lined up near the couch.
Nellie moved into the room and sat on the gossip chair facing Charlie. The gossip chair had two seats, one facing one way, and the other facing another, in the form of an S. It belonged to Goldie, who couldn’t remember where it came from, maybe from the big old house itself. It was upholstered in maroon velvet and was Nellie’s favorite piece of furniture. When she was tired, she sat in one seat and then moved to the other, hoping a change in perspective would help her with her photographic processes. Looking at any question from two different sides always taught her something.
“What’s in the packages?” She glanced toward them, hoping she could open at least one.
“I do not know. I needed you to open and sort through. I did not want to ask Goldie to help, and no one else has been around.” He shifted on the couch to face Nell directly. “You, at least, are officially on my staff as a photographer. Can you help now?”
Standing taller than Charlie’s head was an unusual experience for Nell. Mostly, she looked up to him, both literally and figuratively. “Gwynn just brought me from Twin Falls, and he is here now with the boys. Until they leave, I should help Goldie. Do you want to see Gwynn? Or the boys? You probably can’t do one without the other.”
Charlie pulled his hand through his black hair. His expression was one of puzzlement. “I do not know. I would rather see them when I am able to stand on my own two feet.”
Nellie nodded. She left the room and returned to the kitchen. Gwynn, Matt, and Campbell were all eating. “I am going to my room to rest, so I will say my good-byes now.” When Gwynn glanced up, a fork full of pie near his mouth, Nell could see his consternation. “When you’re all finished with pie, Gwynn, why don’t you take the boys back to Hailey? If you wanted to stay around for the weekend, you could get a room at the Hailey Hotel, or even out at the hot springs in Croy. Then you and the boys and Rosy could plan an outing of some sort. I know the sheriff has a telephone at his house, so I will give you a call if I can join you.” She turned to leave but looked back. “Thank you for bringing me home,”she said and paused. Then said, “Granddad.” What was the expression she had heard Goldie use— butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth? No, that didn’t make sense.
When Nellie heard the automobile leave with the boys fighting about who would get to sit in the front seat, she skipped back down the stairs. The sheriff was still writing on a pad of paper, one that looked like an accounting sheet. “This was all Goldie could find for me,” he said.
“Do you want to look at the photos first or open the packages first.” She carried a thick envelope in her hand.
Charlie looked from the boxes to Nellie and back again. “Let us go over the photographs first. Did you notice anything unusual in them?”
“Yes, but I will tell you after we go through them.”
Nellie dragged an ottoman over to the couch for Charlie to put his leg with the cast on it, so she could sit next to him. This wasn’t as close to Charlie as riding behind him on a horse, but it was closer than they usually were. He smelled of liniment and his hair of soap, Ivory soap. She wondered how Goldie had accomplished that but decided not to ask. His nails were clean, and the black hairs on the backs of his hands looked like silk, tempting her to stroke one to see. Instead, she opened the large manila envelope and pulled out almost two dozen photographs.
“Here are the first ones of the man after we took him out of the cave.” Nellie placed them in Charlie’s hands.
Sorting through them one at a time, Charlie stopped at one with a view of the man from the feet up. “It is apparent he was dragged, but that might have just been Mayor Tom and I getting him out of the tunnel.” He tapped his finger. “All black clothes. Do you think he was a preacher of some sort?”
Nellie had a small bag with her and drew out a magnifying glass. It was an extra that Jacob owned and had lent to her. “You might want to use this to study his clothes, maybe his hands . . . or his head.” Both Nellie and Jacob had done so and found a small rip in the man’s jacket lapel. She wanted to see if the sheriff could see the same flaw.
After a few minutes, he pointed to the jacket lapel. “It looks like this was torn, maybe on the way in or the way out. Still, that would be a strange place to be ripped.”
“That’s what we thought. It might just be a flaw in the material, but it almost looks as if something was torn away. Maybe it was flung away, too, but finding something black with something else on it would be almost impossible in all that dark lava. It could still be in the cave or any number of cracks and holes outside. I do have a theory, though.”
“Yes, I guessed you might.” He held up the photo and magnifying glass.
“One of the photos on Jacob’s wall . . . um, Mr. Levine’s wall . . . was that of Cable O’Donnell—you remember him from this summer?”
“I should smile—or maybe frown—I do.”
“He had a small pin on in the photograph—a kind of cartouche, an Egyptian—”
“Yes, I know what a cartouche is.”
“How does everyone know that?”
“I read. Do you?”
“Yes, of course,
” Nell said but felt her face get hot. She hadn’t been reading much in the past six months. Just photographing.
“Anyway, Mr. Levine thought it symbolized a sort of cult— those who left the main church when the polygamy laws were passed for Utah to get statehood. He even thought that Cable O’Donnell might be a polygamist—with a wife there in Twin Falls and another one at the ranch in Stanley.”
“Sounds like a lot of gossip to me,” Charlie said. He rubbed his face, which needed a shave. The sound was like sandpaper. Maybe that was what his hand hairs felt like, too. “Still,” he said and shrugged, “maybe there is something to it. I doubt if any prosecutor would bring a charge for polygamy against anyone in this area. Getting a jury might be difficult.” He turned to Nell. “Sounds like you and Jacob Levine are on friendly terms.”
“I do work for him, Charlie. Just like I work for you.”
Charlie sighed. There was no other word for it. “You do when I can get back to work.” He tapped on the cast. “This piece of plaster is certainly keeping me from doing anything. Let’s get back to the photos.”
One by one, they studied each photo, which, after the dead man, were of the cave where he had been and then the place where they camped and the cave where the woman had been found and the two photos from inside. Once again, Charlie picked up the magnifying glass and studied the figure at length. “Tom said those ice spears are mostly calcified with limestone. That is why one could be passed through a human body. There is little frozen water left after a period of time. When we went back to retrieve her and she was gone, it did not occur to me to see if the stalactite was still around, or maybe broken and thrown away, again there in the cave. She seemed so stuck to the ground, I do not see how anyone moved her, when Tom and I could not.”
“I think her clothes were wet with blood and then froze to the ground. Even if the stalactite killed her, I don’t think it could have pierced the stone under her, do you? Maybe if we had had something to pry her loose with, we could have done it, although I certainly wasn’t much help.”