Chương 8
Dugan removed the cloth. His eyes were bloodshot. “You believe her?”
“Not about that.”
The sheriff studied him. “You always this helpful to women who steal from employers?”
“Only the ones I married.”
Dugan let his boots drop.
“That explains several things,” he said.
“Which?”
“Voss sent a man to learn whether Abilene still wanted you for Thomas Bell’s death.”
Silas felt no surprise. “It does not.”
“I know. Telegram came this morning. No warrant was ever issued.”
“There should not have been.”
“Should and was rarely ride together.”
Dugan picked up the revolver and slid it into his holster. “You came to ask whether I work for Voss.”
“Do you?”
“I work for a county that pays three months late. Voss lends the county money.”
“That sounds like yes.”
“It sounds like I prefer food.”
Silas leaned against a porch post. “What happened to Caleb Kincaid?”
Dugan’s face became guarded.
“He fell from the grain shed.”
“Who saw?”
“Rance Cole and Albert Sweet.”
“Where are they?”
“Cole left for New Mexico. Sweet is in the bunkhouse.”
“I want to speak to him.”
“You can want.”
“Will Voss object?”
“Most likely.”
“Then I am especially interested.”
Dugan pressed the wet cloth to the back of his neck. “You think Caleb was murdered?”
“I think Voss told me to ask what Nora did after Caleb died. Men do that when they want you staring at a woman instead of a grave.”
The sheriff stared toward the cattle pens. A steer bellowed as a ranch hand forced it through a gate.
“Caleb had been drinking,” Dugan said.
“Mae said he was fixing a roof.”
“He was. He drank at noon. Climbed after supper. Fell before dark.”
“Why repair a roof after drinking?”
“Voss wanted the grain covered before rain.”
“Did it rain?”
“No.”
“Was there an inquest?”
“Doctor Vale said broken neck.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Dugan sighed. “No jury. No reason for one.”
“Who found the body?”
“Sweet.”
“And Cole saw him fall?”
“That was his statement.”
“Where is Sweet?”
Dugan looked toward the bunkhouse. “If you start trouble, I arrest you.”
“If someone else starts it?”
“I arrest whoever is easiest.”
Albert Sweet was sixty, small as a fence post, and missing the first two fingers of his right hand. Silas found him mending a harness behind the bunkhouse.
Sweet glanced at the office, where Voss’s foreman stood in the doorway.
“I have work,” he said.
“So do I.”
“Then do it elsewhere.”
Silas crouched beside the harness. “You saw Caleb Kincaid fall.”
Sweet’s needle stopped.
“I told the sheriff.”
“Tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because his widow is accused of stealing from the man whose roof killed him.”
Sweet resumed stitching. “A roof did not kill him. The ground did.”
Silas waited.
The foreman called, “Everything all right, Albert?”
Sweet raised his voice. “This fellow wants to buy the bay gelding.”
“Bay is not for sale.”
“Then I suppose we are finished.”
Silas stood.
Sweet said quietly, “Cemetery. Sundown.”
The foreman watched Silas ride away.
The cemetery lay west of town beneath a ridge of black rock. The graves were fenced against cattle but not against wind. Some had carved stones. Most had wooden markers turned gray by sun.
Caleb Kincaid’s grave was near the north fence. The marker had been made from cedar, the lettering cut with patient hands.
BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER.
Silas stood before it with his hat at his side.
He did not know what to say to a dead man who had raised his daughter. Gratitude felt insulting. Jealousy felt shameful. Apology seemed too easy.
He pulled three weeds from the grave and immediately felt foolish. Caleb was beyond caring about weeds.
Albert Sweet arrived after sunset carrying a shovel over one shoulder. He pretended to inspect a grave at the far end before coming near.
“I did not see him fall,” Sweet said.
“Why did you tell Dugan you did?”
“Cole told me to.”
“On Voss’s order?”
“Didn’t hear Voss say it.”
“What did you see?”
“Caleb on the ground. Cole standing by the ladder. Ladder was laid flat.”
“Could it have fallen?”
“No. Bottom had been tied to an iron ring.”
“Was the rope broken?”
“Cut.”
Silas looked at him.
Sweet rubbed the missing fingers of his right hand. “Caleb was alive when I reached him. Couldn’t move. He said one thing.”
“What?”
“‘Tell Nora the west book.’”
“West book?”
“That is what I heard.”
“Did you tell her?”
Sweet looked away.
“Why not?”
“Voss gave my daughter and her husband a lease on forty acres. Good soil. He said if stories started, the lease might end.”
“So you let Nora believe it was an accident.”
“I told myself Caleb was confused.”
“Were you at the funeral?”
“Yes.”
“Did you look at her?”
“No.”
The answer was almost inaudible.
Silas put his hat on.
Sweet said, “You think I don’t know what I did?”
“I think knowing has been useful to cowards since the beginning of time.”
The older man flinched.
Silas regretted the cruelty and did not take it back.
“What is the west book?” he asked.
“Ranch kept four main ledgers. North, south, east, west. West book covered freight and land notes.”
“Where is it?”
“Voss’s office.”
“Still?”
“No. Disappeared after Caleb died. Voss tore the office apart.”
Silas thought of Nora’s hidden copies.
“Will you testify Friday?”
Sweet laughed once. “And put my daughter in the road?”
“Caleb’s children are already there.”
“That is not my doing.”
“It is now.”
Sweet’s face hardened. “Easy for you. You own nothing here.”
“That is true.”
“No house. No wife depending on you. No winter seed.”
“Also true.”
“You can be brave because you can ride away.”
Silas looked at Caleb’s grave.
May you like
“I have used that privilege,” he said. “It does not feel like bravery.”
He returned to Mrs. Pike’s house after dark and found Nora sitting at the kitchen table in a borrowed robe, eating an egg. Her hair had been tied with blue thread. The fever had left her face damp and pale, but her eyes were clear.
