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I found a heavy set man with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up when I visited the land claims office for the second time. When I stated my name and my business, he picked up some papers from the top of his desk, for apparently this was one of the cases he was studying when I walked in.
"Mr. Nason departed hastily," he confided in me. "There is reason to suspect that he may not have been totally honest." This was such an understatement that I looked at this Mr. Phelps (for this is what his desk plaque said) closely. As I suspected, laugh lines at the corners of his eyes told of a subtle humor that probably went over most people's heads. In other words, this guy was as dry as a dead toad after a month in the Arizona sun.
"No, you don't say," I told him. "You know, I had a couple of doubts myself when I showed up at my claim and found somebody else's marker on it, and two ruffians using my tools to dig my gold. But I thought it must be just one of those pesky mistakes."
"Yes, yes, apparently that is just what it was, for it was re-filed by a dummy company that named Nason as president and a certain Amos Heskins as vice-president."
"WHO DID YOU SAY?"
"Nason and Heskins. I know you met Nason. Do you know something about this Heskins that I don't?"
"Only that he is the head honcho in Brown's Hole nowadays, and he has a band of cut throat in-laws that make the Sidney Ducks look like saints."
"I see, and look at this." He held the phony file claim in his hand. "It looks like Nason signed Heskins name himself. I wonder is the vice-president even aware of his prestigious position?"
"You know, it doesn't look like he is, at that. What put you onto this in the first place?"
"Just this," he said, producing an envelope filled with small squares of paper. He pieced a few together so that I could see that it was my original claim.
"I should think he would have burned it."
Phelps apparently didn't hear me for he said, holding up the bogus Nason\Heskins claim, "He must have been holding it like this when something distracted him and then," the paper was torn briskly in half, "perhaps he was daydreaming and his fingers worked away by themselves." As he said this, he proceeded to rip the paper into even smaller pieces than what my own was in. "And then, oh, my, look what I've done. Now we don't have any record of a claim on that creek. If you would be kind enough, sit up here, and we will fill in a new one. One that I will lock in the safe so that I can guarantee its validity from this day forward."
He seemed to be looking for more grandiose words, but not finding them he just said, "Here, fill in the blanks."
"A pleasure to do business with you," I told him.
"One does what one can."
Well, that was a load off my mind. Of course, that load had been replaced with one big mystery. What was the connection between Nason and Amos Heskins? Why did Nason believe my claim was richer than it was? Was there any reason for this, or was it all in his greedy little mind? Perhaps it was just because of the irregularity of the grains of ore, like the black-bearded one had said. It still seemed like a lot of effort for such a small scale operation.
As for the connection, who could say but the two men themselves? All over the West men kept traveling, searching for
something; perhaps; more likely, just seeing what lay beyond the next rise. I had always been apt to do this myself, at least until I met Anne. At any rate, because a lot of men were traveling, they were apt to meet at any odd corner of the West.
When Opie Heskins had tried to shoot me, I had thought it was out of pure
arrogance. I still did, but it sure did leave the door open for a lot of circumstance.
I could hardly wait to tell Anne my good news, but before I did, I knew I should go see Big John Carter and ask him about buying some of his land. There was other land in the rougher regions north of him, but some of the meadows near my claim had caught my eye. I did not have a specific parcel in mind right now, but I should stop and feel him out before I got my hopes up too high. Besides, when I picked out the actual land for my ranch, I wanted Anne at my side.
Big John acted like he was plumb glad to see me. Probably he was, for company must be might scarce out here.
"Coffee's on Jess, and I'll have the cook roast up a dozen head of beef for supper. Come on in and sit down. Did you kill that grizzly yet?"
Truth was, I had forgotten all about that dumb old bear. I explained that my claim was paying off better than I expected, and that I would like to buy a few sections of land from him if possible. For some reason, maybe because he was lonely and seemed in need of a friend, I told him about Anne as well. About how much I thought of her and how my dreams had changed in so short a time.
"I'm glad to hear it, Jess. There is nothing like being in love. I know that must sound funny coming from an old bachelor like me, but, truth is, I had a woman I loved once." He was looking out the window, remembering a time I would never know. "She...died, a long time ago. I never got the chance to marry her, and I've been sorry about it ever since. We had a son, and somehow because of the circumstances and everything, he never learned the truth about who his father was. I wanted to tell him, and to give him my name, but it went on so long that I was afraid he would reject me, and I would be left with nothing, which I am now anyway."
"You knew him; knew who he was?" I asked.
"Oh yes, indeed, he worked for me. He was the hand that silvertip grizzly killed. You can see why I want that bear's scalp so badly. In vengeance for my dead son."
I stayed that night, and while the cook did not prepare six head of cattle, he did make up a spread that might have fed fifty people. I figured I made up for about five of those myself, for my usual vittles had been plain and sparse. When I got a chance, I feasted.
In the morning, I again asked John about selling me some land. "Sure, sure, Jess, I'll be glad to help you and your Anne, but don't forget that bear. You kill him, and I'll give you all the land you could ever want."
"Thanks, John, I will keep an eye out. But you know what bears are like. To set about hunting one particular bear is a long shot at best."
I was excited by anticipation when I rode back into Vernal, but I could soon see that something was amiss. The town's people were gathered around the jail, and looking through the
crowd I saw no trace of Anne.
"Clay, have you taken Anne Doveling away?" This was the town's constable asking.
"Of course not. I just rode in to see her. How long has she been missing?"
"We're not sure. When the kids went to school this morning, it had not been opened. Mrs. Crosby went through her house but didn't see any signs of foul play."
"Why don't you go over and look around, Clay. You're the only one who might notice something different or missing."
"Okay," I agreed, "and the rest of you stand outside the fence. If she should come home and find a dirty house, she wouldn't be happy." Really what I thought was that such a mob might mess up any clues that might be left.
Everything seemed to be normal at first, but a pencil had been left askew on her small writing table as if she had dropped it to answer a knock at the door. I tilted the table back from the wall, and out fell a piece of writing paper. When I looked at it, I saw why she had stuffed it in there. She had been in a hurry.
"Dear Jessie," the letter started, "I am uneasy tonight, and I can't really explain why. I have felt like I have been watched today. I did see a stranger in a brightly striped suit and a bowler hat, and he seemed to be looking at me. When he moved down the street, he looked at
everything however, so I am probably being..."
The note stopped just like that, so she must have heard a noise and slid the paper out of sight. She had told me where she kept her derringer, and when I checked the hiding place it was gone. That was good. At least she had some means of protection.
Try as I might, I couldn't find anything else until I was ready to exit by the front door. A tiny shard of glass caught my eye. Anne wasn't a fanatic housekeeper, but she would certainly never leave any broken glass around, either. Her mother sometimes sent her trinkets from back in New England, "knick-knacks" she called them, and a few sat on a stand near the door. It was too far away from the door to brush one off by accident, but lying mostly under the stand were the broken pieces of a tiny glass sea gull. Could she have done this deliberately as a signal to me? I believed so, for nobody else would attach any significance to it.
I went out and told the people of the note I had found. When I asked if anyone had seen the stranger in the bowler hat, a raft of voices answered, so many that it was a howling mob. I held up my hands for silence.
"One at a time, please. Now, what about the stages? Did anybody see a man in a striped suit get on or off today?"
The constable piped up with an answer. "There is only one stage a day through here, and I make sure that I am on hand when it is in town," he pompously stated.
"Why?" came a hidden voice from the rear of the crowd.
The lawman looked around with glaring eyes, trying to find the hidden wag.
"Okay, okay," I interjected, "How about the livery stable, Jake? Any riders come in or out?"
"Nope. I did see the man you're asking about walking down the street, and I wondered how he got here. I even double-checked the stalls and corral, in case he was trying to get something for nothing. He wasn't in my place."
The cafe owner said the man had come in to eat, but aside from ordering, he had not even said please nor thank you. She was not able to give any further description past the suit and hat. An alarm rang in my head at her words.
Just about everyone in town had seen the stranger around two or three pm, everyone except the constable, that is. The unknown joker from the back of the pack piped up again, "That's just about the time for your nap, ain't it?"
"Who said that? There's laws about scalawags like you, you know." I looked closely to see if smoke was rolling out of his ears. "I'll have you know I was checking the back doors behind the alley. Mattie, yours was side open again."
"Just like it has been for the past twelve years. The only time I close it is when you get snoring too loud in your afternoon nap."
"Never mind that you, you, never mind, who wants to join me in a posse?" A score of eager hands were raised into the air. This whole thing was getting out of hand.
"Hold up here," I shouted to get their attention. "First of all, where are you going to look? There is a lot of country out there, and you don't even know what direction to head off in. And second, if there are any tracks this crowd will have them wiped out in no time. No, you people watch and wait around town, and let me go out by my own. I'll get word back to you as soon as I find anything."
The constable had to make one more stab at pomposity. "I think it is my duty to accompany you, for I am the law. You aren't even a deputy."
"How far does your jurisdiction go, sir? Are you the law of the county or the town?"
"Well, actually, I'm the law of this town. Yes perhaps I should stay here and keep the peace."
"An excellent idea, officer. If I need help, I'll get word back to you." He smiled and nodded at this appeasement.
I found where one extra man had waited with three horses on the north side of town. The one that waited smoked cigarettes and field stripped the butts. I had seen this habit before, but I couldn't place where. The first two horses were large northern ones. The third appeared to be a small pony, judging by the light indent made by the tracks. They must have brought this to be Anne's mount.
After a couple of miles cross-country, they joined a small seldom used trail and traveled in a northeast direction. After a while they were joined by a half dozen other riders. They left a confusion of tracks, but one thing was plain to see—Anne's horse had continued to the east, along with only one other rider. My skin crawled as I took in this fact. For the first time in my life, I wanted to kill.
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