by Marja McGraw
“You oversized dumb mutt.” He turned toward the fire so his pants would dry quicker.
“The sheriff’s wife seemed to think there might have been a stranger passing through town, and that’s who killed the teenager.” I dropped my head and looked at the floor, thinking.
“You don’t agree, do you?” He watched my face when I looked at him. He knew me so well.
“No, I don’t. How would a stranger, who was just passing through, end up with the sheriff’s straight razor?”
He smiled. “You’re a good detective. I’m wondering the same thing.”
“The killer had to be someone who lived in this town.”
“Okay, we can’t do much right now anyway, so let’s take a closer look at the sheriff’s records and try to make a list of some of the people in this town. I noticed he does talk about some of his day-to-day contact with people, even though he tried to make his books records, and not a journal.”
“Good idea. I think I’ll fix us something to eat first, though. I’m hungry, so I’m sure you are, too. Would you show me how to use that old stove? You seem to have it figured out.”
“Well, I can’t help you reach a specific temperature, but I can light a fire and give you heat.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I didn’t build a big enough fire when I tried to heat your bath water.”
“That’s okay. I’m actually too tired to bother with it tonight anyway. I’ll just wash my face and hands before we go to sleep.”
We finally got the stove going, and I put both the franks and the beans in one pot. I thought that might be the easiest way to heat them up until I could figure out how to use the old stove. While they heated, I placed paper plates and plastic utensils on the table, along with the bag of potato chips.
Bubba stood by the stove with his head in the air, sniffing. I threw in an extra wiener for him. I could cut it up and put it in his dry food.
Picking up the three record books, I moved them to the side of the table. The third book fell on the floor and a piece of paper fell out. Before I could pick it up, Pete reached for it and unfolded it.
“Huh. This is a hand-drawn map of the town.” He set it on the table and motioned me over. “Look at this. It shows every home and small farm located close to town, and he’s indicated who lived in each place. This could be valuable to our little mystery.”
“Unless, of course, they caught the killer. Then it probably wouldn’t matter much. Although, as we explore, at least we’ll know who lived where.”
He pointed to a spot on the map. “Look. Here’s the Newton farm. We can walk over tomorrow and check it out.”
“That might actually be kind of interesting.”
We ate dinner and sat back, both tired after a busy day. Pete gently poured water on the fire so we could sleep in safety. He didn’t want sparks flying around, so he put the fire out a little at a time. “The fire we built in the cook stove should give us some warmth tonight. I can add some wood to it before we go to sleep.”
He yawned and stretched, and I knew just how he felt. My muscles were tight and sore from exercise I wasn’t used to, like walking through town and climbing the incline, and from collecting wood for the fires.
We put our sleeping bags together, thinking we could keep each other warm. My quick bath would have to wait for morning, or I’d probably fall asleep in the tub.
Pete climbed in the bag after adding wood to the cook stove. I brushed out my hair and made sure Bubba had water before joining him. I set the lantern next to the sleeping bags and thought about retrieving the sheriff’s records, but decided they could wait until the next day.
My curiosity wouldn’t let me go to sleep. “I wonder what really happened in this town; first the murder, and then everyone leaving in such a hurry. What do you think?”
He didn’t respond and I realized he’d already fallen asleep. I reached over and turned off the battery-operated lantern.
Chapter Nine
Bubba woke me early the next morning. I was surprised to see I’d slept through Pete letting the dog out and building a new fire in the cook stove. He had the big pot heating water and was building a fire in the fireplace again.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he replied. “Apparently you slept pretty well. So did I.”
“We needed it. Is that my bath water you’re heating?”
“It is. I heated some of the bottled water, too, so you can have your morning cup of tea if you want it. The rain stopped. I’ll fix breakfast outside on the barbeque while you take your bath. I can’t quite get the hang of this stove for actual cooking. I’m great at heating water, though.”
I nodded before I picked up my jacket and ran outside to find my favorite bush. I’d awakened once during the night, but there was no way I was going to try to find my way around outside in the wet and the cold.
Although the rain had stopped, there were still clouds in the sky. It was a tossup whether we’d have more moisture or not. Bubba saw me heading back to the house and followed behind me. Ah, for the life of a dog. He seemed to adjust well no matter where we were or what we were doing. A rabbit ran past the house and Bubba couldn’t pass up the chance for a race. I knew the bunny was safe. It was all a game to my bear-sized lug. He just wanted to have a good time and give the animal a run for its money. I’d seen him do this before.
Pete turned to give me a morning kiss when I approached him. He still hadn’t shaved, and his beard was heavy. I kissed him anyway, and had to scratch my lip when a stray hair poked me.
“You’re going to have to shave sooner or later,” I said.
“Later. Your bath is ready, and while you’re doing that, I’m going out to fix us some food. I wouldn’t wait if I were you because I don’t think that water will stay hot for very long.”
“You just don’t want to use the stove because it would take away from your Mountain Man experience.”
“You’re probably right.” He smiled and walked outside, closing the door behind him with a slam. That was the only way it would close tightly.
I was pleased that he’d moved the old tub as close to the fireplace as possible. It was still relatively cold in the house, so I pulled a bar of soap out of the box of sundries and undressed quickly, lowering myself into the shallow water. He must have heated it up quite a bit, because it was still almost hot. A bath never felt so good, and yet I had to hurry because the parts of me that weren’t under the water were chilled in seconds.
I heard Bubba bark once, and Pete laughed. Those were good sounds. I was enjoying myself, regardless of everything that had happened.
I wondered if the clouds might move out so things would warm up again, and I wondered if we’d have another Ghost Cowboy sighting. I knew he wasn’t a ghost, but the name seemed to suit him.
Pete opened the door and stuck his head inside. “I think I know where the cowboy is living. There’s smoke from a fire off in the distance.”
“Close the door! You’re letting in the cold air.”
He laughed and shut the door with a bang.
Okay, so a ghost wouldn’t be building a fire to keep himself warm or to cook. That answered one question. And if we knew the general direction of where he was staying, we might be able to find him and get our car part back. I still didn’t understand why he wanted us to stay. I got a sudden chill and I wasn’t sure if it was the cool air or fear of the cowboy. What did he want from us? He hadn’t really threatened us, and yet by disabling our car, he’d made a statement. I closed my eyes for a moment and thought there were too many things in this old town causing me to have chills.
I’d come prepared for this camping trip, and that meant I was prepared for anything. Pete would do what Pete would do. I’d brought a couple of oversized bath towels with me, and I picked one up and began vigorously drying off. After pulling on a clean pair of jeans and a fresh shirt, I put the sweatshirt on, too. A ponytail would have to be the hairdo of the day. There was no point in bothering with make-
up, and I generally didn’t wear too much anyway, so after dressing and brushing my hair, I was ready to face whatever came our way.
Pete opened the front door just as I was about to walk outside. I wanted to see the smoke he’d talked about. Maybe we could figure out where it was coming from by looking at the sheriff’s map of the town and small farms. He carried paper plates covered with enough eggs, bacon and fried potatoes to feed a small army. Bubba had returned and followed in his footsteps, sniffing the air.
“I want to see where that smoke is coming from,” I said.
“It’s already gone. After we eat, I’ll point out where I saw it. Maybe we can use that map to figure out which house it was coming from. It was far enough away that I would imagine it was from one of the farms.”
“My thought exactly.”
We sat at the table and ate a hearty breakfast. Considering where we were, and how we were living, I finally felt a tiny bit like a pioneer woman.
Pete ate with gusto. I’d have said that all the fresh air had enhanced his appetite, but he always ate with gusto.
“I hate to have all the food in the cooler go to waste. Isn’t there something we can do?”
“Sure. I’ll take the cooler down and set it in the creek. Everything is protected in plastic bags, and it’ll take the ice a while to melt, so things should stay fresh. When I go back to the car, I’ll grab one of those nylon bags our camp chairs came in and eventually transfer the food to that. The water in the creek is cold enough keep things fresh for a little longer. We have no idea how long we’re going to be stuck here, you know.”
“I never would have thought of that. I guess your camping experience really is valuable.” I smiled at my partner and fiancé. “If I have to be stuck in an old ghost town, there’s no one I’d rather be stuck with, Pete.”
He cleared his throat and I thought I might have embarrassed him. “Okay, let’s clean the kitchen,” he said, picking up the paper plates and throwing them into the trash bag.
“Thanks for cleaning up. Too bad it isn’t that easy at home.”
“What’s on the agenda for today?” He looked expectant, ready to do whatever I wanted – I hoped.
“Let’s take a second look at that barbershop. Since we know Sheriff Croft was also the barber, maybe we can find something there. Maybe he used his shop as his office.”
“Good idea. I’d like to take a closer look at that blacksmith’s shop, too.”
“Do you think there might be something there?” I asked.
“No, I just think it would be interesting. Maybe I can figure out if the cowboy has been using it.”
We walked back into town and Pete headed for the blacksmith’s place while I visited the barbershop. I didn’t know what to look for, but I felt like I needed to do something. We’d only taken a cursory look at the businesses the day before.
First I simply walked around the room to get a feel for the layout. There wasn’t much there because it was only a place for men to get a haircut, and maybe gossip. I knew that men could tell tales, just like women, only they wouldn’t admit it.
The chair still stood in the middle of the room, and I noticed there were two more chairs near the window. There was the shelf with the old straight razor resting on it, and some bottles of… I wasn’t sure what they might have contained, but they were empty now. The cabinet that stood under the shelf interested me because it had a drawer with a cubbyhole under it. The door to the cubby was slightly ajar. There was a fourth chair sitting next to the cabinet. This was definitely a place where the men gathered to shoot the breeze. I’d bet that at one time there was probably a pickle barrel turned upside down with a checkerboard sitting on top.
I stood in the middle of the room next to the chair, and closed my eyes. I wanted to get a feel for the place, maybe imagine how it was back in the day of these people. It was so quiet that I could let my mind wander. I could almost hear the men talking while they got their hair cut.
Yeah, that might be a small crick, but it’s got some big fish in it. Why I caught me one that musta been big enough to feed the whole Newton family for a week. I bet nobody’s ever caught one that big…
I gotta find out what my cattle will sell for this year. I heard prices are down, and I’m hopin’ that’s wrong. I ain’t got a big herd, but I need…
I sure hope I can get my crop in before the first winter freeze hits us. Ma’s got some pretty good lookin’ tomatoes growing this year, and…
Say, what do you think about the Newton girl? You know, it wouldn’t surprise me if it turned out to be…
My eyes popped open and I quickly glanced around. Of course the men would have gathered here to talk about the murder. I knew instinctively and without a doubt that the entire town was talking about it, and offering their opinions to the sheriff, whether he wanted to hear them or not.
I took a peek out the door to see what Pete was doing. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear him moving things around at the blacksmith shop. I heard Bubba sneeze and assumed Pete was stirring up a lot of dust.
Looking up and down the street I didn’t see a horse or cowboy, so I turned back to the task at hand, deciding I’d start with the cabinet. The drawer opened with a soft creaking noise. I was pleased I hadn’t had to force it open as I had with just about everything else in town. It contained two combs and nothing else.
Opening the door to the cubbyhole, I was surprised to see two towels that were yellowed but still intact. There was another mustache cup sitting next to them, but I didn’t see a shaving brush. I was about to close the door when something caught my eye. It looked like someone had shoved something behind the towels. I could just make out the edge of it.
Sliding the towels aside, I picked up the item and examined it. It was another straight razor, and although it appeared rusty, I could see there was something on it. I took it over to the door so I could examine it, and almost dropped it when I realized I might be holding the weapon that took the life of Jenny Newton.
“Pete!” I yelled out the door. “Come quick.”
He ran across the street with his gun out, ready for trouble, looking up and down the street as I’d done a few minutes earlier. “What is it? Is the cowboy back?”
“No, no. I’m sorry.”
“You sounded hysterical. I thought something was wrong.”
“‘Come quick’ sounded hysterical?”
“It was your tone of voice,” he explained.
“Again, I’m sorry.” I held out the razor. “I think maybe I found the murder weapon. Take a look at this and tell me what you think.”
Examining it, he said, “I see what looks like rust, but – ”
“Look closer. There’s something more on that blade than just rust.”
He walked outside with the straight razor in order to get a better look at it. Returning to the barbershop, he set the razor on top of the cabinet. “I think you’re right. It looks like there might be blood on it. Where’d you find it?”
“It was hidden behind some towels in the cabinet. I almost missed it, but the end was sticking out.” Sighing, I said, “I don’t know what good it will do us, though. I feel like I’m working on a current case, and yet this happened over a hundred years ago.”
“You wanted a mystery and you’ve got one. Go ahead and work it like you would one of our own cases. See if you can figure it out. We’re stuck here anyway, so enjoy your mystery.”
“Why do I have the feeling the Ghost Cowboy has something to do with this? He’s certainly not really a ghost, and he wouldn’t have been alive back when Jenny was killed.”
“My guess is you have that feeling simply because he’s here, and probably because he’s trying to keep us here. I’d like to get my hands on that guy and find out what his story is.”
“Me, too.”
Bubba started to woof. I knew the difference between his bark and his deep down woof. Something was up.
We stepped out of the barbershop just in time to see a black
horse galloping down the street toward the houses with the mysterious cowboy giving him his head. The cowboy raised a gun in the air and fired two shots, giving a war whoop in the process.
Bubba ran after them, woofing for all he was worth.
“Come back!” I yelled, throwing myself on the ground, trying to stay out of the way of gunfire.
Bubba didn’t hear me.
The rider turned his horse to the right and disappeared.
Glancing up at Pete, I saw his gun was pointed toward the end of the street and he was in a shooting stance, but he hadn’t fired a shot.
Chapter Ten
I jumped up and ran down the dirt road, screaming Bubba’s name. Pete finally called it right when he said I sounded hysterical – he’d just been a little too early. I was afraid of what the cowboy or the horse might do to my dopey dog. Why did he feel like he had to chase everything? Did he think he was protecting us?
“Bubba!” I yelled, stopping and trying to sound authoritative. “Come back here before you get shot!” I stamped my foot, as though that might do any good.
The sound the horse’s hooves made disappeared and I watched the street with a feeling of helplessness.
“Bubba,” Pete yelled, trying to help, gun held at his side in readiness.
I watched as my crazy canine came walking back around the end of the farthest building, with his tongue hanging out and panting. He walked slowly, looking tired.
I ran to him. Tongue still hanging out, he gave me a very toothy grin. He was proud of himself, probably thinking he’d scared off the bad guy. Then he sat down in the middle of the street, obviously exhausted, and panted harder.
“Looks like you need to go on a diet, Bubba. Chasing those rabbits is one thing, but racing after a horse seems to have just about done you in.” I patted his back.
