Crazy Woman Creek (21 page)

He climbed back down the ladder. Shaken by the brutality he’d seen inflicted on an innocent animal, he felt compelled to check on the welfare of all the horses again, his own as well as Mrs. Rose’s and Reverend Thomas’, even though he had checked on them only minutes earlier. Once he had assured himself that they were unharmed, he stepped outside the barn into the bright noonday sun and looked around in every direction to make sure there was no one watching the property. Seeing nothing but prairie grass and low hills shimmering in the heat, he washed up at the pump, more thoroughly than usual, and walked to the house.

#

Before the clomping of Luke’s boot heels could be heard on the front porch, Reverend Thomas and Betsy had informed Lenora that he would be sharing dinner with them. Nevertheless her eyes grew wide when the tall and handsome deputy stepped through her front door, hat in hand. She tried to act normally, but there was nothing normal about Deputy Davies stopping by to check on her. There was nothing normal either about hostessing from a daybed, which the kind Reverend Thomas had fashioned out of clean straw, blankets, and pillows so that Lenora could spend daylight hours propped up in a sitting position in the front room instead of languishing all alone in her real bed, cut off from visitors.

And there was nothing normal about the heightened awareness she felt when Luke
’s tall frame darkened the doorway. Her heart yearned in her chest when Luke’s eyes went straight to hers, and for a moment it was as if they were the only two in the room. Lenora caught a stricken look that flashed across his face lightning fast, and just as fast she saw it disappear behind a mask of professionalism.

“Sorry to see you ailing, ma’am,” he said, his eyes tender with compassion.

“Thank you, Deputy Davies. Forgive me for not getting up, but Dr. Biggerstaff insisted I remain prone for a good while.”

Luke stood by the door, still holding his hat, saying nothing and looking like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Betsy walked out of the kitchen then, wiping her hands on one of Lenora’s aprons. She walked directly to Luke and extended her hand in greeting.

“Don’t worry, Deputy,” she deadpanned, “Lenora isn’t contagious.”

Lenora swallowed hard to force down a chuckle. Betsy turned to her and winked.

“Deputy Davies, come and help me move this table closer to the fireplace,” said Reverend Thomas, gesturing to the table visible through the kitchen door. “That way Mrs. Rose won’t feel like she’s eating alone.”

“Or would you rather we all join you on the floor?” quipped Betsy to Lenora. “I don’t see any reason why you should be the only one who gets to have a picnic.”

Both men laughed, which greatly reduced the awkwardness of this unusual seating arrangement, while they picked up the table and carried it easily to the front room and set it down near Lenora. They went back to the kitchen, retrieved three chairs, and set them by the table. Betsy returned to the kitchen to finish dinner preparations.

In short order the two men and one woman at the table and Lenora in her daybed had finished a hot meal of fried ham, fried potatoes, and hot tea. By the time Betsy was clearing the dirty dishes, however, the mild joviality that had played across
the room had been replaced by somberness. When Betsy had cleared away the dishes and set a pot of coffee to boil, she sat back down and made eye contact with her husband. Reverend Thomas leaned forward over the table, his long salt-and-pepper beard brushing his clasped hands, and looked directly at Luke. His face was serious, his voice lower than usual.

“Deputy Davies, when we returned from town yesterday evening, I found Mrs. Rose’s dog, dead. Someone killed him and left his body on the porch.” He swallowed. “Whoever did it removed the animal’s head.”

“I knew he was dead,” said Luke, looking equally grim. “I found his head in the barn.”

The women gasped. Reverend Thomas leaned his elbows on the table and rested his head in his intertwined fingers.

“I had a bad feeling in there,” Luke continued, “while I was tending my horse, so I decided to take a look around. I found the head in the hay loft. Someone threw it up there. It hit the wall and fell into the hay. There was a lot of blood.”

Lenora let her head fall back on a pillow for support and closed her eyes, imagining in the most acute way the vivid act just described. She saw Ulysses’ head flying through the air, heard the muffled, wet smack of it hitting the barn wall, saw it land with
a swoosh in the hay. Her breathing became shallow, which caused her face to turn pale. What did it all mean? Why was she being stalked, her dog murdered, her husband missing? There had to be some sense to this agonizing series of tragedies. Most of all, when would it all end?

“Mrs. Rose,” said Luke, his voice gentle but direct, “I need to ask you some questions. Are you well enough to help me?”

Lenora opened her eyes. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just all so unbelievable.”

All three at the table stared at Lenora. As if she didn’t feel foolish enough already, dining on the floor in her own home with the Reverend, his wife, and the deputy seated nearby. And entertaining in her nightgown yet! What was the world coming to?

“Don’t worry,” she said, noting the concern on all three faces, “I’m fine. And even if I weren’t, I’m already in a good position for fainting.” She smiled wanly at her weak joke. At least she hadn’t lost her sense of humor. It wasn’t all that difficult to crack jokes since they had found Ulysses’ remains. She was too numb with the shock of recent events to mourn her myriad losses anymore.

“Do you have any idea who did this, Mrs. Rose?” asked Luke.

No, she didn’t. But it was evident from the footprints on her ranch, the repeated attempts by some unnamed person to enter her home uninvited, and from the brutal murder of her dog, that she was a target. But why? And who? Her mind was blank.

“I have no idea.”

“Did James owe money to anyone?”

“I don’t think so. But he never told me about our debts, whether we have any. I don’t know.”

“Do you know of anyone that James was having any disagreements with?”

She thought again. She was embarrassed that she couldn’t give Deputy Davies any hard information. She tried to dredge up logical answers to illogical events. But there weren’t any. And she was so very, very tired. She leaned farther back into the makeshift daybed so that the pillow and not her neck supported her head.

“I can’t think of any. No.”

“Do you suppose someone’s just trying to frighten her, Deputy Davies?” said Reverend Thomas.

“It’s possible. James Rose owns the nicest parcel in this part of the Territory. Since he’s been gone so long, it could be that someone wants to give his wife a good reason to hightail to New York City.”

Lenora’s head popped back up. Frighten her? “Who would want to do that?” she said, aghast at the thought of abandoning her ranch out of fear.

“Anyone who badly wants the ranch and herd and has the money to buy them,” said Luke. “Know anyone like that?”

“Any number of large ranches around these parts would welcome the opportunity to annex yours,” said Reverend Thomas, looking at Lenora. “You’ve got water all year round, not just during the wet spells.”

“Of course,” said Lenora, embarrassed. Why hadn’t this scenario occurred to her already? A few local ranchers had approached James in the last four years, offering to buy them out. But James would not be tempted. He had purchased a dream, and so had Lenora. There wasn’t enough cash in all of Wyoming Territory for them to give that up.

“We’ve had offers for the property,” said Lenora, “but James turned them down promptly.
And those came from our neighbors,” she said. “They’re our friends.”

Reverend Thomas and Luke exchanged a look.

“Has anyone approached you lately about buying?” asked Luke.

“No.”

“If someone wanted to buy her out,” said Betsy, “and planned to use fear as a motive, they might be smart enough not to tip their hand.”

“True,” said Luke.

The room was quiet several seconds. In the silence Lenora felt Ulysses’ absence more keenly. Until now she had not realized what a comfort the daily sounds of her pet’s movements outside the house had been for her since James left. She even missed his bone-rattling barking.

“Mrs. Rose,” Luke said, “has Buck Jennings or Pea-Pod Pendergrass ever come ‘round asking for work?”

“I don’t recall ever seeing either of them out this way.” Lenora debated volunteering her next thought, because she didn’t want the conversation to veer anywhere near her argument with James. But a decapitated dog was serious business, so she forged ahead. “And if they had ever spoken to James in town, he would not have told me. We didn’t always agree on the subject of hiring help.”

Luke
looked intently at Lenora, but if he had an opinion on the Roses’ disagreements, he kept it hidden behind an impassive face.

“Who was on the property yesterday besides myself?” he asked.

“Ben Slocomb was here in the afternoon, like every afternoon. After that, there was no one but you. I was in town most of the day. I didn’t arrive back with the Thomases until suppertime.”

“What did you see when you arrived?” asked Reverend Thomas, directing his question to Luke.

“Nothing. I arrived before Ben did. I looked over everything—house, barn, out buildings. Everything was in order. Ulysses was happy to see me. He was on his chain. I fed him some jerky.”

Lenora winced at the thought of Ulysses’ last few hours alive. She could easily picture Ulysses’ slobbering happiness at receiving a treat from the deputy. How could anyone butcher an innocent animal? Why would anyone take pleasure from such an act?

“I’ll ride out to the Slocombs after I leave here and see if Ben saw anything suspicious,” said Luke. “I’ll ask at your other neighbors too,” he said, speaking to Lenora.

Lenora’s eyes met his. She saw nothing but kindness, so much so that she temporarily forgot her embarrassment over her current condition and their awkward dinner arrangements. Appearance didn’t matter so much anymore. Having people that cared, she had learned, took the sting out of a lot of life’s difficulties.

“Deputy,” said Reverend Thomas, “You don’t suppose Ben had anything to do with this?” Reverend Thomas absently ran his hand over his long beard.

Luke paused to think, shook his head. “I’ve thought about that some. But I’ve no good reason to suspect Ben. He’s a good boy. Runs off at the mouth sometimes, but he’s never given his folks any trouble that I’ve heard of. Also, this doesn’t look like the work of someone so young.”

“No, I suppose not,” said Reverend Thomas.

“Probably a good idea if I stop in
and question him, though, his parents, too,” said Luke.

“Looks more like the act of someone who’s angry,” said Betsy.

“I agree,” said Luke.

“I don’t know of anyone who’d be angry at me,” said Lenora, thinking aloud.

“Not you, Mrs. Rose, your husband,” said Luke, looking grim.

Just then the hiss and rattle of a madly percolating coffee pot caused them all to look toward the kitchen.

“I forgot the coffee!” Betsy jumped up from the table and walked briskly toward the kitchen. While they waited for her to return with the coffee service, Luke turned again to Lenora.

“Did Sam Wright come around before today?”

“You saw Sam on the way in?” interrupted Reverend Thomas. He leaned in to Luke a bit, looking stunned. Betsy entered the room then with cream and sugar and clean spoons.

“I passed him about a half mile down the road.”

“Did he tell you anything?” asked Reverend Thomas.

Luke looked confused. “He said he’d been by to see about helping Mrs. Rose with morning chores until she’s on her feet again.”

Reverend Thomas and his wife looked at each other, eyes wide with knowing. Lenora looked stunned too.

“Deputy Davies,” said the Reverend, “Before Sam rode out of here this morning, I told him what happened to Ulysses. He said he was going to town today, and he volunteered to tell you everything when he got there to save me the trip. You’re telling me he said nothing to you about the dog?”

“Not a word,” said Luke.

“Having you at the ranch these last few weeks has made me think about a lot of things, Etta. And I’ve realized something important.”

The hot spell had broken, and the mild temperatures of early summer had returned, making the wide open prairie a welcoming place again. Even the small prairie animals seemed unusually frisky in the cooler temperatures. Blacktail prairie dogs with their creamy white throats and dark almond eyes skittered excitedly, poking their noses from their holes, sniffing and twitching, entire families of them staring at Lenora and Etta as they rolled by, as if the buckboard were part of a funeral train. In the distance a small herd of pronghorn antelope stopped grazing long enough to stare as well, their black faces all as one, observing the women in the buckboard dispassionately. After a
minute the bored creatures returned to their grassy meal, ignoring the wagon altogether.

And this morning, after so many dreary hours of lying in a makeshift bed, riding in the buckboard with Etta Nolan was positively glorious for Lenora. She exulted in the simple acts of taking a hot soak in a deliciously deep tub of water instead of making do with a sponge bath, wearing a pretty fitted dress instead of a shapeless nightgown, holding onto the reins, and sitting upright on the buckboard seat like a human passenger instead of a farm animal dozing in the wagon box. After a trying season of inactivity, she appreciated the smallest routines of living as never before. She couldn’t stop smiling this morning. Soon, she thought to herself, she must make a new frock of the daffodil silk, something unusually special, with lots of hidden tucks that she could let out as she grew bigger in front.