Pete (The Cowboys) (21 page)

“Why didn’t you tell me? From your letters, I thought things were getting worse and worse.”

“They were at the store, but I didn’t want you to know about Texas, in case Uncle Carl was right. I had a friend mail my letters so they’d all come to you from Illinois.”

“You cared that much about what I thought?”

“I always cared what you thought. You were the only one who didn’t think I was a total loss.”

Even Peter’s mother had preferred his brother. That must have hurt.

“Anything else you want to know?” he asked.

“No.”

“Good. I’ve got to get some sleep.” He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Good night.”

“Good night”

He must have fallen asleep instantly. She could hear the sound of his steady breathing almost the moment his head hit the pillow. She slid down under the covers. It made her feel really good to know her opinion had always been important, but she wished he’d told her about Texas and the store. She’d have understood. She’d been treated a lot like him. Maybe that was why he was being so nice to her now, because he knew what it was like to be ignored.

She’d rather he did it because he loved her.

She didn’t know when being loved became so important. She hadn’t thought about it when she asked him to marry her. She’d just thought they’d be friends the way they’d always been. But now that wasn’t enough. She wanted love. She wanted children. She wanted forever.

But some little voice in the back of her head warned her to be careful. It cautioned her to pay close attention to everything he said and did. The voice said he was too different and the changes too perfect.

She wouldn’t listen to that voice.

But it wouldn’t go away.

Pete cursed himself for a fool. He should have known Anne would wake up and want to know what he was doing wandering about the ranch at night. He’d never thought he was such a glib liar, but the answers had rolled off his tongue. He guessed he’d picked up more about Peter than he realized.

This story about going to Texas was a good idea. At least it explained why he could do so many things Peter apparently would never have been able to do. He just hoped she wouldn’t ask him any more questions. He didn’t like having to lie to her. He’d have to tell her the truth one of these days, but he couldn’t now.

It was too dangerous, and he had no assurance she would believe him.

“Are you sure Belser hasn’t come down yet?” Anne asked Dolores.

“Of course I’m sure.”

“We’ve been so busy, I didn’t realize until now I hadn’t seen him, but he never sleeps this late.”

“Eddie said he was drunk when he came in last night. Maybe he’s sleeping it off. No point in getting up if all he has to do is pack his gear and leave.”

“I guess not, but he’s got to get up. Everybody will leave before long. I don’t want to have to be the one to make him leave. What would I do if he refuses to go?”

“Shoot him,” Dolores said.

“I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? You’d shoot a lobo wolf. Belser is just as bad.”

“He’s just angry he didn’t get the ranch.”

“He’s always been a nasty man. I never liked him.”

Anne was helping Dolores in the kitchen on what had been the most hectic morning she could remember. All the men had slept at the ranch the night before and eaten breakfast there in the morning. They expected to leave for the roundup by noon. Since finishing breakfast, the men had been hurrying to get their gear in order, choose their horses, make sure they were properly shod and had no saddle burns or sore feet.

The cook had been in and out of the house all day, getting supplies for the chuck wagon, setting aside what he would send for later. His temper had caused clashes with Dolores several times already. Anne would be glad to see him leave. He might be a fine cook for the men, but two cooks in any kitchen was one cook too many.

Once she and Dolores had finished putting the food away and washing the dishes, Anne confined herself to keeping two coffeepots going. The harder the men worked, the more coffee they drank. It also kept her out of the line of fire between Dolores and the maestro of the chuck wagon.

One of the young hands, named Ray, came inside. “Cookie wants me to collect that side of bacon now.”

“You know where it is,” Dolores said. It always irritated her to have anyone messing around in her storeroom.

“Before you do that, go upstairs and wake Belser,” Anne said. “I’d go, but I don’t think it’s proper for a lady to go into a man’s room.”

Ray grinned. “Glad to oblige, ma’am. Just tell me where to find him, and I’ll have him downstairs in a jiffy.”

“Up the stairs and turn left,” Anne said. “It’s the next-to-last door.”

“Clean your boots before you go into the house,” Dolores ordered.

The young cowhand grinned again. “I already done that, Miz Dolores. I knowed you’d have my hide if I tracked dirt inside the house.”

“Tell that to your cook,” Dolores said.

“I don’t tell Cookie nothing,” Ray said. “I like to eat.”

“That man thinks he can do anything he wants just because he’s the range cook,” Dolores fumed, once again on her favorite subject.

“The men say he’s the best cook in Wyoming,” Anne said.

“They’d be afraid to open their mouths if he was the worst. He’s a tyrant.”

The door opened, and another young cowhand entered the kitchen. “Ready for another pot of coffee, ma’am.” He grinned. All the hands seemed to be in a great mood. They were looking forward to the roundup.

“Everybody’s awfully thirsty,” Anne said.

“It’s stirring up all that dust that does it. Got to have something to wet down a man’s throat.”

“Do you think you’ll need another pot?”

“It’d be nice if you could keep ’em coming until we pull out. The men sure do like their coffee. Especially the old ones.”

The “old ones” couldn’t have been more than twenty-four or -five. Cowhands didn’t grow old. They soon looked for an easier line of work or tried to start a ranch of their own.

“I’ll grind some more beans. Just let me know—”

Ray came back into the kitchen, his face drained of color. “Belser ain’t coming down,” he said.

“Oh, yes, he is,” Dolores said. “If he thinks he’ll lie in that bed all day, he’s got another think coming.”

“He ain’t thinking nothing,” Ray said. “He’s dead.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dolores said. “You just have to shake him harder. He went to bed drunk as a skunk.”

“He ain’t drunk,” Ray said. “He’s dead. Stone cold. Stiff as a board. There’s a knife sticking out of his back.”

Anne didn’t believe Belser could be dead. Nobody got killed in his own bed. Besides, no stranger had entered the house last night. The doors were never locked, but she was sure she’d have heard if anybody had come up the stairs.

“That’s impossible,” Dolores said. “You’ve got to be mistaken.”

“Go see for yourself,” Ray said. “I sure as hell ain’t going up there again.”

“Get Pete,” Anne said to the cowboy who’d come for the coffee. “Tell him to come here right away.” Ray went out with him.

Anne didn’t know what Pete could do, but her first thought had been that Pete would take care of everything.

“Did you hear anything last night?” Dolores asked after both the cowhands had left.

“No.”

“Me, neither. And I didn’t see any sign that anybody had been in the house.”

“Who would want to kill Belser?” Anne asked. “Nobody liked him much, but he was leaving.”

The two women stood there, each absorbed by her thoughts, until the kitchen door was flung open.

“Ray said Belser’s been killed,” Pete said as he entered the kitchen, followed closely by Eddie and Ray.

“I don’t know,” Anne said. “Neither one of us has been up there.”

“Well, we have to go now.” He held out his hand toward her. “Will you go with me?”

She’d seen death before, but she’d never seen anyone who’d been killed. The horror of it made her so weak she could hardly move. The fact that it had happened in the house, in the bedroom next to where she and Pete had slept, made it seem even more horrible. She had been sound asleep at the moment someone drove a knife into Belser’s body. Just the thought caused her to shiver.

“I’ll go.” She knew she had to.

No one spoke as they left the kitchen, ascended the stairs, and approached the door to Belser’s room.

“Did you move him?” Pete asked Ray.

“No,” he answered. “As soon as I opened the door, I saw that knife in his back. I knew he weren’t going to wake up.”

Anne wouldn’t have touched him either. Just the thought of it caused her to grip Pete’s hand more tightly.

“I know you don’t want to go in, but it’s best we all see it. Then there can’t be any question about what anyone saw.”

He didn’t have to tell Anne this was a murder, that there’d have to be an investigation. She knew that already.

The door to the room stood open, apparently just the way Ray had left it. They all entered the room, Pete and Anne first.

The scene looked so quiet and ordinary, and Belser looked so peaceful, it was hard for Anne to realize he was dead. He was on his stomach, his head turned toward them, his arms and legs flung out from his body, the bedclothes thrown on the floor. He had gone to bed in his underwear, his discarded clothes and boots scattered around the room.

The only disconcerting image was the knife sticking out of his back.

“That looks like one of my kitchen knives,” Dolores said.

“Are you missing a knife?” Pete asked.

“I don’t know. Things have been too mixed up this morning to tell. If I’m missing anything, Cookie probably has it. He’s always taking what he wants without asking.”

“Go check,” Pete said.

Dolores left.

“Did you hear anything last night?” Pete asked Eddie.

“No. I went to bed after we finished talking. I didn’t wake up until Dolores called me for breakfast.”

“None of the boys did,” Ray said. “Somebody woulda said something if they did.”

“The horses would have waked them up if there’d been strangers about,” Eddie said.

“Did you hear anything?” Pete asked Anne.

Anne didn’t want to lie and say she hadn’t heard anyone at all. Neither did she want to tell everyone the only person she’d heard was Pete trying to slip into their room unnoticed sometime after two o’clock. That would make everyone suspect him.

“I mean other than me coming to bed late,” Pete added.

Anne breathed an inward sigh of relief. She wouldn’t have to lie, and Pete didn’t want her to hide the fact that he’d been up late. It also showed he couldn’t have had anything to do with Belser’s murder. She knew he hadn’t—she chastised herself for even thinking of it, but she couldn’t help it. Everybody would say Pete had the most to gain by getting rid of Belser.

“No, I heard no one,” Anne said. “I’m a light sleeper. I’m sure I would have heard anyone enter the house.”

“None of us heard anything,” Eddie said, “but somebody murdered Belser.”

Anne didn’t like the way he said that, or the way he looked at Pete. She couldn’t imagine why Eddie would suspect Pete, but she didn’t know what else that look could mean.

“Ray, ride into town and notify the sheriff,” Pete said. “I’d like him out here before nightfall if possible.”

“Sure,” the boy said, clearly glad to leave the room.

“The rest of us will go about our business as usual. We’ve got cows to round up.”

“You can’t mean to do that now,” Anne said.

“Belser’s death doesn’t change the fact we need to get our cows to market before the bottom falls out,” Pete said.

“But Belser’s been killed.”

“Stopping work won’t bring him back.”

“I know, but…” Somehow it seemed disrespectful to go about their regular work as if nothing had happened.

“It’s up to the sheriff to decide what to do next,” Pete said. “We can’t sit here doing nothing all day. Eddie, do you mind telling the men what’s happened?”

“I imagine they already know.”

“Then see they get back to work. They won’t do any good speculating about who did it. I still want to pull out by noon.”

“You leaving before the sheriff gets here?”

Anne didn’t like the way Eddie asked that question. It was almost as if he thought Pete might know something about the murder.

“No. We were both in the house last night, so we’d both better be here when he arrives. We can ride out tonight, or tomorrow morning if it gets too late.”

Eddie left. Only Pete and Anne remained in the bedroom.

“Do you know what could have happened?” she asked.

“No. If anything, I’d have thought Belser wanted to kill me. Do you know if he has any enemies?”

“He wasn’t very likable, but he never did anything to make anybody want to kill him.”