Old Murders Never Die Read online

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Just what it looks like – the floor gave way. Let’s get out of here. There’s nothing else to see anyway.”

  He brushed off his jeans and led the way out of the house. He had to call Bubba because the dog was still sniffing around the hole. When Bubba didn’t obey, he went back in after him.

  “Sandi, come here,” he called.

  I reentered the house to see what he wanted, and found him kneeling next to the hole in the floor.

  “What? Did you find something?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “There’s something down here, but I can’t tell what it is. I didn’t bring the flashlight. Would you go back to the house and get it?”

  “We’ll have to remember to carry one with us from now on.” I left and half-walked, half-ran to the house. I was anxious to see what had been hidden under the floor.

  I heard a horse whinny and turned to see the cowboy watching me from near the saloon. He pulled on the rein to turn the horse and trotted over to me.

  My heart began to pound. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the cowboy or the fact that I was getting a lot more exercise than I was used to. Maybe it was both.

  “What do you want?” I asked. “Who are you?”

  “Makes no matter who I am,” he replied. “Yet.”

  “Yet? Why have you stranded us here?”

  “All in good time, missy. You’ll find out soon enough.” He gestured toward the town. “You folks sure are havin’ a good time searchin’ through this old town. Are you lookin’ for something special?”

  I was tongue-tied for a moment. Should I tell him about the murders? No, I wanted to know what he was up to. While I thought about my dilemma, standing here with him and Big Foot the Black Horse, he decided not to wait.

  “Yeah, I know what you’re looking for, and it’s not yours to find. When you city folk decide you’ve had enough exploring, I’ll get you out of here. Maybe.”

  “What do you mean by maybe? Why did you strand us here in the first place? Are you crazy?” Oops. I probably shouldn’t have said that.

  “Crazy like a fox,” he said. He turned the horse around and laughed as he trotted away.

  “Come back here,” I yelled. This guy wasn’t going to hurt us or he would have done something by now – or maybe that’s what he wanted us to think. Maybe he was just waiting for us to let down our guard. Well, we’d already done that and he hadn’t noticed. Or had he?

  I didn’t like his laugh. It had an otherworldly sound to it. Maybe that was because we were in the middle of nowhere and I had an overly active imagination. I realized I’d had these same thoughts before.

  Glancing up, I saw Pete heading up the dirt street. I turned and ran to the house to retrieve the momentarily forgotten flashlight before running to tell Pete about my latest encounter with the cowboy.

  “What took you so long? I was beginning to wonder if something happened to you.” He sounded irritated.

  “The cowboy approached me again.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks. “What happened this time?”

  I repeated our short conversation.

  “From now on we stay together when we leave the house. I don’t know what this guy’s game is, but I don’t like it.” Pete’s face was the picture of stubbornness and anger.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I said.

  His face relaxed slightly, but I could still see a hint of anger.

  “You thought I was going to argue with you, didn’t you?” I asked. “You thought I was going to give you my usual argument about how I can take care of myself. Right?”

  “Yeah. What happened?”

  “I don’t get this guy and what he’s up to. I don’t trust him –”

  “Why would you?” Pete interrupted.

  “I don’t. It’s not an issue. It could be my imagination, but it seems like he watches until he knows I’m alone, and then approaches me. I don’t like that.”

  “I don’t either. You’re just a defenseless girl –”

  “Excuse me?”

  “In this case, you are. We’re out here alone and we have no idea what this cowboy is up to. We’re both fairly defenseless, except I carry a gun. You don’t.”

  “Okay, point taken. From now on the word of the day is togetherness.”

  “Now, let’s go see what’s in that hole in the floor. With all those mice running around, I didn’t want to stick my hand down there without being able to see.”

  “You’re afraid of a little mouse?”

  Pete picked up his pace and left me behind.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When we returned to the preacher’s house, we found Bubba hot on the trail of the mouse again. I coaxed him outside and closed the door so he wouldn’t bother us.

  Pete shined the flashlight down the hole in the floor.

  “What do you see?” I asked. “Anything?”

  “There’s a box down here. Give me a minute and I’ll see if I can get it out. The wood looks like it’s rotting. I don’t see any mice, though.”

  He reached in and gently lifted out a box that was about the size of a ream of paper. Setting it on the floor, he leaned over to see if there was anything else in the hole. There wasn’t.

  “I wonder what it is,” I said. “I can’t imagine what a preacher might be hiding.”

  “Let’s take it back to the house and look at it there.” He picked it up and held it away from his body. The wood wasn’t rotting and it was covered with dirt. “What was the preacher’s name?”

  “Jonathan Wright. His wife was Anna.”

  I opened the front door and looked around, hoping I wouldn’t see a cowboy or a horse. Since they didn’t seem to be around, I motioned for Pete to follow me. I was anxious to see what the box held. This mystery seemed to just get better and better. A few of the houses seemed to hold some surprises, which made everything more interesting.

  Charles Ambrose was a closet author, and that reminded me I wanted to read his story, no matter how bad it was. Since it was hidden, maybe it was about this town and the goings on.

  Of course, the whole mystery had started with the hidden records at Sheriff Croft’s house.

  It appeared that people were secretive even in the Old West. Maybe we should recheck a few houses to make sure we hadn’t missed anything that might be hidden.

  While Pete and I walked, we talked about Wolf Creek and its residents.

  “You’re always saying things were simpler in the old days,” he reminded me, “but in all honesty, they weren’t. Look at this town and what it went through.”

  “You’re right. In some ways things were simpler, but this place has really opened my eyes. You never know what lurks below the surface. I wonder if we’ll ever get to the bottom of this.”

  “Maybe not, because if I can get my car part back, we’re outta here.” He seemed to think about his statement for a moment. “Would that bother you?”

  “I’d like to find all the answers to this town’s mysteries, but I guess breaking away from here is the most important part of the whole equation.”

  He didn’t say anything, but I could see I’d given the reply he was hoping for, and he seemed to relax.

  “However,” I added, “as long as we’re here, I’m going to keep digging. Maybe I’d better start digging a little faster.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “I want to do two things right away. I want to read what Ambrose wrote to see if it has any bearing on the town, and I want to finish the sheriff’s notes. Maybe there is no mystery. Maybe he found the killer in the end.”

  “Well, I have a mystery of my own I want to solve.”

  “What’s that?” I was surprised. What could he want?

  “I want to find out where this cowboy is living and search his place for the missing car part. I have to admit I kind of liked being stranded here. It was like a forced vacation, but one I was actually kind of enjoying. But I don’t like the way h
e keeps approaching you. It could mean that he’s afraid of facing me, and it could also mean he’s zeroing in on you and you’re in danger.”

  “Somehow I don’t get that feeling. He’s almost friendly, in an odd sort of way.”

  “That worries me.”

  Actually, I could see his point. “Okay, let’s put a plan together. I’ll finish my reading today. Tomorrow morning we’ll set out to find the cowboy and his haunt.”

  “Works for me.”

  Arriving at the house, I saw that the cowboy had been there. There were fresh hoof prints near the house, and there were prints from cowboy boots leading up to the front door.

  My immediate reaction was panic, and I ran toward the house, but stopped abruptly when I realized he could still be inside. What if he’d taken the sheriff’s records? Or Ambrose’s notes? Or our food? He could have walked off with anything.

  “Pete, look,” I whispered, pointing at the prints.

  “I see. You wait out here while I check out the house.” He had already pulled his gun from his waistband, and he crept up on the house. If the cowboy was inside, he certainly wanted to take him by surprise. The front door was open, and he silently slipped inside.

  Bubba was sniffing at the spot where the horse had stood. I grabbed hold of his leash and ordered him to sit. He did, looking up at me as though understanding the urgency in my voice.

  Pete waved us in after just a moment. There weren’t any places where the cowboy could hide, so the search hadn’t taken long.

  “He’s gone,” he called out.

  “Did he take anything?” I asked, stepping inside the building.

  “You tell me. You keep closer tabs on things than I do.”

  Taking a good look at everything, I could see that the cowboy had searched the house, but it didn’t appear anything was missing. It looked as though he’d flipped through the sheriff’s records, but they mostly sat right where I’d left them, so apparently the cowboy didn’t find what he was looking for. I couldn’t help wondering what he might have wanted. The town map Pete had used was lying opened on the floor. What interest could that have held for him?

  After picking up the map, he sat at the table and stared out one of the windows. “He told you he knew what we were looking for, right?”

  “Yes. He said he knew what we were looking for, and it wasn’t ours to find.”

  “Whatever brought him to this area must be worth something. He didn’t go through the houses, and some of them are filled with antiques, so that’s not it.”

  “No. And if I were he, I’d have gone through them out of pure curiosity. So what could have lured him to this lonely little town?”

  “Good question. Let me think about it. I have an idea, but…”

  “While you’re thinking, let’s see what’s in that box,” I suggested.

  Having cleaned the dirt off the box before bringing it inside, he pushed it across the table to me. “You do the honors.”

  The clasp on the box was stuck and I shoved it back to him. He opened it for me before pushing it back, not seeming at all curious to see what was inside.

  I carefully opened the top and found myself speechless.

  “What?” he asked.

  I turned the box and shoved it, once again, to his side of the table.

  “Are these real?” he asked.

  The box was filled with jewelry, and it did appear to be real. “I would think being buried like that, if they were fake, the jewels probably would have fallen apart by now. We’ll take them with us and have them checked back in civilization. Maybe we can find the heirs and return them.”

  “Did you see the paper under the jewelry?” He handed me a note that had been folded twice.

  I opened it and found a note from Anna Wright to her daughter. “Someday, my precious little one, these will be yours. Do with them as you will, but my wish is that you marry well and wear these. Your father never knew I had them because he would have told me to sell them and share the wealth with the poor. They travelled all the way from Russia with my mother and I couldn’t give up my past. These are for you, my darling daughter. With Love, Mother.”

  Pete looked surprisingly touched. He picked up one of the pieces, an antique necklace that looked like it held a large emerald with small ones decorating the gold chain. After fingering the piece, he abruptly stood and walked outside. He left the door open and I could see him preparing the barbeque to cook the fish.

  “What do you want with the fish?” I called from the doorway.

  “Whatever we’ve got. Look through the cans of food. I’m not going to start barbequing right away. I just thought I’d make sure the grill is clean.”

  “I’m glad these weren’t here when the cowboy searched our belongings.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” That seemed to be all he had to say on the matter.

  Carefully carrying the box, I hid it in the bottom of the wardrobe where the sheriff’s records has rested for so many years.

  Returning to the table, I fingered the record books. I had time to do some reading before worrying about dinner. Dinner or no dinner, I retrieved some chocolate from my backpack, and started reading again.

  Annie had her first class today. When I came to get her, she said she had fun with the childrun, but they were saddened by there teacher being kilt. She told me she let the childrun talk about there hearts hurting, an then she did what she could to turn there minds to other things.

  My Annie told me that the parents all brung there kids to school, jist like I walked her there. This town is afraid, an I cant blame them. There sheriff aint doin a grate great job of findin this bad apple amongst all the good ones. I jist don’t know what to look for, but I am tryin my darndest. I spoke with Doc again. He still thinks the killer is a very angry man. I asked him if he was sayin the killer was mad at the ladies he kilt. Doc says he thinks the man is takin things out on those that get in his way. He says that, no, the killer aint mad at the women. They are jist in his way.

  Okay, that fit in with my own thoughts. The women didn’t have anything in common, that I could see, and it seemed like they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was beginning to agree with the doctor. I got the feeling the sheriff was, too, because it appeared he talked to Doc at some length.

  I rode down the mountain to talk to the sheriff there, but he was gone, chasin a bank robber. Most of the townsmen went with him because the robber kilt the banker. I can not help but wonder if our killins have any connection to the robber. Probly not, because the killins are too different. The women was not robbed, an the banker was not cut up.

  A cowboy rode back up the mountain with me. He said he was passin through, on his way to make his fortune. Now aint that a hoot. He thinks he is goin to find a fortune around here? Not too smart of a feller if you was to ask me. Mebbe he is on his way to Califurnia, even though he spoke of campin outside of Wolf Creek for some time.

  I stopped for a moment, thinking about finding a fortune. I’d bet many men thought there was a fortune just sitting and waiting to be found back in those days – gold fever. It seems it was contagious. I’d read plenty of stories about the search for riches. Pete and I had talked about traveling to the Superstition Mountains to look for the Lost Dutchman’s Mine, but we’d only been joking about it. One day we’d travel to Nevada to see Virginia City. It had been a mining town, too. I’d heard something about yearly camel races up there. That might be fun to see.

  Turning my attention back to the records, I forgot about the gold rush.

  I told the cowboy he might jist want to move on, that we had had some killins in the town. It might not be a safe place to camp. He said he might take my advise.

  There were a few blank lines, and then the sheriff went on with his story.

  It has been a couple of days since I saw the cowboy. He should have pade payed me some mind. After I walked Annie to school this mornin, I walked out passed the houses and farms. I needed to freshen my mind an do some thinkin. I fou
nd that feller, and he has been kilt. He must have tussled with somebody, but the other feller won. The cowboy had been hit on the back of the head with a rock. The rock laid next to the feller’s head, still bloody. I can’t say if we got two killers or one. Doc came an took a look at the cowboy, an he said to his way of thinkin, the cowboy fell down an hit his head. Doc dont think the feller was kilt at all, but it was an accident. The cowboy’s horse was still tied to a tree, so I walked it into town and left it with Mueller.

  It seemed like Mueller’s name kept coming up. The Doc’s did, too, but of course he was always called in to view the bodies.

  I decided to read a bit more and then take a break to see what I could serve with the fish. After we ate, I planned on reading, or at least skimming, Ambrose’s story. My gut feeling was that Pete and I would be moving on soon, and I wanted to get to the bottom of the Wolf Creek murders – if I could.

  Chapter Seventeen

  While Pete barbequed the fish, I heated pork and beans on the cook stove. I’d finally mastered lighting the fire and heating it up, without Pete’s help. While they heated, I took Bubba with me down to the creek to get the tub of butter we’d brought with us. Fish, pork and beans and bread and butter would have to do for dinner. We were running out of food because we’d never planned to be away from the city and grocery stores for so long. We had enough to get us through a couple more days, but that was it. After that, my partner would have to see if we could live off the land. Maybe I’d develop a taste for fresh-caught fish. Maybe not.

  We really needed to find the car part and get out of Wolf Creek. On the way back from the creek I stopped and asked Pete, again, where he’d seen smoke from the cowboy’s fire. He pointed in the general direction of the Newton farm.

  “Tomorrow morning I plan to do a little reconnoitering of my own,” he said. “I’m going to walk past the Newton place and start looking for the cowboy’s hideout. I’ll try to wake up early and watch for the smoke, and head toward it before he puts out his fire. If I can find the place, I’ll wait until he leaves to search it.”