High Desert Detective, A Fiona Marlowe Mystery (Fiona Marlowe Mysteries) (26 page)

Tommy poured each a mug of coffee and handed them around. “Guess
we better go looking then.”

Jake said, “There’s the outside chance that Glory might not have
come back from checking the stock pond and fences on the BLM pasture, so I’ll
ride out to the pond to see if something happened to him. Maybe he got drunk
and passed out and didn’t make it back. I hope Lester is with him if that is
the case. I would hate to lose that dog. You two get your overnight gear and
horses and start moving cows. I’ll call Rosemary and Esme and have
them
come over. I’ll meet you out there.” He walked toward
the door, paused and looked back. With a nod of his head he indicated the gun
on the couch. “Who does the old gun belong to?”

“Glory,” said Tommy.

* * * * *

Fiona gave up trying to sleep, dressed in jeans and long sleeve
blouse, and went to the kitchen to make coffee. She heard the TV and went into
the living room to discover Olympia’s new friend stretched out sleeping on the
couch. Olympia was nowhere to be seen. She must still be on the new side of the
leaf and opted to go to bed by herself. Fiona found the remote and powered off
the large screen TV. Paul didn’t make a move or a sound from the depths of the
couch.

Fiona shook her head and walked back to the kitchen. This was
getting to be more like the H Bar O Resort and Hotel. Olympia had a lot of
nerve dragging one of the gold miners home. She was sometimes all nerve and
little common sense.

Fiona poured coffee and checked the time. Five o’clock in the
morning. The sky was bright in the east, and here she was doing nothing. It was
driving her crazy that she couldn’t solve the mysteries. There were too many unsolved
oddities and too many leads that seemed to go nowhere. She took the mug of
coffee and walked out to the back patio.

Where had Jake gone? Had he found who had tried to start the
fire? She rubbed her arm against the chill. Heaven, she never was up this early
in the city.
Never.
She didn’t understand what was
happening to her, what magic this isolated spot was having on her
sensibilities. She sipped coffee and listened. The silence was broken every
once in a while by the yipping of coyotes. They sounded like pups. The rooster
in the chicken yard where Opal penned the chickens for the night crowed. Maybe
the rooster crowing kept her awake and unsettled. She wasn’t used to the sound.
But she doubted it.

Way off she heard the sound of cattle and remembered that Jake
wanted to move the herd to new pasture. Where could he be? Was he moving the
cows this morning after all? She wished she knew how to saddle a horse. She’d
ride out to find him. At least she would be in motion and not sitting around
waiting for something to happen. She liked to be the one who made things
happened.

She mused over a few more sips of coffee. She had the Ford 150,
and it had four wheel drive. She hurried inside, fetched her purse and headed
for the truck. She didn’t want to be left behind.

* * * * *

Jake debated putting in a call to the Sheriff before he found out
what happened to Glory. He should report a suspected arson attempt, but they
wouldn’t be able to do much about it until daylight, and it may have been an
accident. If Glory had accidently overturned the can in a drunken stupor, then
it was Jake’s problem to deal with, not the Sheriff’s. If he found Glory on the
trail drunk and passed out that was his problem. If Glory was nowhere to be
found, that was another. If Glory was hurt, he might need an ambulance, and it
took a while for an ambulance to come this far from Rocky Point. He didn’t want
to send an expensive ambulance on a wild goose chase. He decided against
calling anyone until he knew for himself what had happened.

It wasn’t easy riding over rough ground with only the moon and
stars for a guide, but Earl trotted ahead of him so Jake had his white shape to
follow. He had debated coming in a truck. But if he had to ride fence looking
for Glory, a truck wasn’t going to do it, neither would an all terrain vehicle
over so much sage, rabbit brush and greasewood. It was all he could do to keep
from falling asleep in the saddle, which he’d been known to do. The road to the
BLM pasture was two rutted grooves, but the pinto was sure of foot, and they
went along well enough. He had saddled the horse, collected his overnight gear,
emergency responder medical kit, handheld amateur radio, and rifle because he
didn’t know what he was going to meet up with or how long it would take to find
Glory, if he were still on the ranch. His horse might have thrown him. Henry
Crawford had been killed by getting thrown from a horse. Just about anything
could happen out in the middle of nowhere.

Fortunately, the stock pond was on this end of the pasture. But since
Jake had told Glory to check fences, he could be lying anywhere along the fence
line, and the fence enclosed a good four hundred acres. Glory’s horse hadn’t come
home which was not a good sign.

Earl was an amazing dog, sniffer that he was. He stayed on the
trail, pausing occasionally to sniff the brush. It was like he knew his buddy,
Lester, was in trouble, and he wanted to find him.
 
Jake wished he had a nose like that dog. It
would be a lot easier than trying to see tracks in the dark. Maybe Earl had
figured out that they were trying to find Glory.

The stock pond came into view. There was a solar pump on this one,
and the pond normally held water and only needed topping off. He slowed the
horse as they came up over the mounded dirt and peered in. The pond was nearly
dry. He let go a string of really good, heartfelt cuss words. The cows were not
going to be happy if they didn’t have water at the end of the trail.

Dismounting, he went to see why the solar pump wasn’t working.
When in doubt, check the power switch. It was in off position. If Glory had
been here, he hadn’t figured that one out. Jake flipped on the switch. They
were going to need sun to power the pump and that would be another hour. Stock ponds
on solar pumps filled slowly, and there wouldn’t be enough water for the herd
when they arrived. The pump wouldn’t be able to keep up.

He walked the area looking for any signs that Glory had been
there. The ground was dried into deep pockets of hoof prints from last season. He
found no telltale evidence.

Where could Glory have gone? Earl had only paused at the stock
pond and trotted on.
 
Maybe he was on to
something. There was nothing for it but to ride the fence to see if the man had
fallen and was hurt. The further it got into the day, the less hope Jake had of
finding Glory. His feeling that their troubles were an inside job and that
Glory was somehow involved would not give him rest. Glory didn’t seem the type to
mastermind a plot to take down the entire H Bar O, which seemed like what was
happening. Glory would be working for someone else. The question was who. He
thought of the three men he had singled out on the list that he had shown to
Fiona. He thought about her idea that the former girl who helped Opal was an
accomplice.

He was so lost in thought he almost didn’t catch the one lone
bark. Up ahead he made out two white shapes.
Earl and Lester.
They were guarding something.
 
He reined
in the pinto, and they approached at a slow walk. Even so, the horse spooked
and nearly threw him. He kept his seat as the horse danced around the rumpled
heap of a body. Mortimer Glory. Earl and Lester sat on their haunches and
panted happily, their job done.

Jake quieted the pinto down, dismounted and looked Glory over. He
tried to assess what had happened. The man was lying on his stomach, face
turned to the side. Jake saw no obvious blood, but his face was covered with
bruises like he had been beaten around the head. He checked for radial pulse.
Faint but there was one. He ran through a quick head to toe trauma assessment,
but found no breaks or open wounds. Because of the face bruises he was reluctant
to tilt the head back, so he pulled on the jaw to help open the airways. As he
worked, Jake could smell the sour odor of booze. He didn’t know if it were
severe head trauma that kept Glory unconscious or alcohol poisoning.

Jake checked the ground around the body. An empty booze bottle
lay in the brush. He was able to make out two sets of foot prints. He checked
Glory’s feet. He was wearing a sad, old pair of work boots. The other set had
the narrow heel and pointy toe of fancy cowboy boots. That told Jake a lot. Most
honest working ranchers wore work boots or variations with a much wider sole. He
was looking for someone who fancied dress cowboy boots when beating another
person up.

 
This was a medical
emergency. From the saddle bag he pulled out a handheld amateur radio. “This is
KF7EOH.
 
Kilo Foxtrot Seven Echo Oscar
Hotel. I need medical assistance. Do you read me?”

* * * * *

Fiona met up with the herd moving along the road to the BLM
pasture. Rosemary and Esme were riding behind and, when they saw who it was, rode
over to have a chat. Fiona stayed in the truck and rolled down the window.

“Hey, girl, I like your new rig,” said Rosemary.

“Yes ma’am, that is a beauty,” said Esme. “Did you just get it?”

Fiona smiled.
“Couple of days ago.
I
really like it. I’ve never owned a truck.”

“You’ll never drive anything else,” said Rosemary. “I bet you are
looking for Jake.”

Fiona nodded.

“He’s up ahead. Sweet said he went looking for Glory who seems to
be missing.”

“I thought I’d drive ahead to see if Jake needed help.”

“I bet he always welcomes help from you,” said Esme, and the two
girls snickered.

Fiona smiled and shook her head at the pair.

Rosemary said, “We’ll move the herd to the side.”

They rode off to talk to Sweet, and he rode to the truck,
touching his hat when he got to Fiona’s window.

“Hello, Sweet,” said Fiona. “Can I drive by? I want to see if Jake
needs help.”

“Sure thing, Miss Fiona.
We’ll move the
cows to the side as far as we can.”

The buckaroos started whistling and
yee
-hawing
to the cows and the calves. The herd was testy and noisy with bawling calves
and mothers trying to find them. Two bulls were to the back of the herd.

Sweet called to her. “Start moving slowly into them, they’ll move
to the side.”

Fiona did as instructed. Some cows moved. Some stood and looked
at her. The babies seemed to think it was a new game. They jumped around and
kicked up the dust. One of the bulls gave out an unholy bellow. Carefully,
Fiona drove the truck through the herd, as the sun rose above the eastern
horizon with the promise of another hot day. She cleared the herd and waved at Sweet,
who rode toward the front of the sea of cows.

“The pasture is to the left at least another mile from here,” he
called to her. “You’ll see the stock pond.”

She waved and continued on over the roughest road she had seen
yet. She pushed the button for four wheel drive to be on the safe side. Being
the city person she was, she winced every time the truck bounced over yet
another rock.

The fencing changed on the pasture, and she saw an open gate. Beyond
was a raised mound. She pulled beyond the gate to the side of the road as far
as she could go, cut the motor and walked over to investigate. There was a hint
of water in the pond.
 
A trickle of water
entered from a pipe coming from the pump. She looked around and saw a jumble of
old hoof tracks. Several sets of prints went off along the barbed wire fence.

She decided to follow the prints on foot although she was a
little jumpy, wondering who might be around, where Jake was, and if rattle
snakes were out this time of year. Somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind
she remembered that snakes like sun. She was careful where she walked. Far in
the distance a white spot in the sagebrush caught her attention. She picked up the
pace. A horse stood without a rider. A wave of panic swept over her. Thinking
Jake might have been thrown, she started to run.

“Jake,” she called, “Jake, are you there? Where are you?”

She kept calling and after a while she saw him stand and look in
her direction. He waved, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Over here,” he yelled.

A piece of dead brush caught her boot, and she almost took a
tumble. She moved on slower and more carefully. She couldn’t figure out what
Jake was doing. When she got to where he stood, she saw the reason.

“What happened?” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine but Glory isn’t. I called for an ambulance, but it will
be a while before they can get here.”

 
“Is he alive? He looks
awfully bad to me. His face looks blue.”

Jake checked for pulse. “Still alive, but I’m not sure for how
much longer. I’d like to keep him alive for obvious reasons. But also because I
want to know who the extra footprints belong to and why Glory has bruises all
over his face.”

“I came in my truck,” said Fiona. “Should we try to get him to
it?”

Jake shook his head. “I don’t want to move him. He’s unconscious
and hasn’t moved an inch. He might have brain trauma. I’ve done what I could
for him.”

“The herd’s on its way, and there’s no water in the pond.”

“Glory never got around to turning the pump on. He must have been
drunk. I don’t know what happened exactly or the sequence of events, but I do
know that someone beat him up.”

Fiona studied the ground. Jake had a little fire going and a pot
of coffee on it. “You come prepared.”

“I’d offer you a cup but I need you to ride back and tell the
boys to turn the herd around. I don’t have cell phone signal here to
communicate with them. Since it will take the pond a while to fill, we’ll have
to wait.”