Chapter 9

The following Monday morning, just after ten o’clock, Malik walked back to his office from the bank. He had deposited his payment for the business properties and vacant lots in an escrow account—Lestly having agreed to his terms—and he’d arranged for a monthly transfer from his own account in payment for the Guardia Real cigars.

As he jingled through his own office’s entrance door, he stopped short. An attractive woman was seated in the reception office, on a chair near the vacant reception desk. Her hands were folded demurely in her lap. On the chair next to her were a small handbag and a large sun bonnet, both complementing her floor-length, high-necked black dress., obviously widow’s weeds, as that mourning form of dress was styled. Perhaps in her early thirties, she had red hair and, as she looked up at him, blue eyes. Her lips formed a pleasant smile, but her eyes spoke of sadness more in keeping with her mourning dress.

Malik said, simply, “Ma’am?”

She rose and offered a hand, which he held only briefly, but did not shake, instead giving a slight bow. She was tall, nearly his own height.

“Mister Malik, I am sorry to intrude on your empty office, but the lady in the dress shop next door suggested that you would not mind if I waited inside. I trust I was not misguided?”

“Missus Palmer was correct in her guidance, ma’am. How can I help you?”

“My name is Gabriela Lestly, Mister Malik. My daughter was Anna Lestly, the girl who was murdered and buried on Green Ridge last month.” She spoke calmly, but with rigid self-control reflected in her restraint of any sort of emotional display or tone. “I believe you may be familiar with those events.” Her monotone suggested forced detachment.

“Indeed, Missus Lestly. I am very sorry for your loss. Please come into my office. I have more comfortable chairs.” He unlocked the inner office door and said, “Please be seated. I’ll fetch some cool water.”

Malik stepped through another door and descended a narrow stairway to the cellar, a space walled with large, mortared, quarry stone blocks and with a pea gravel floor. He took one of several stoppered, clear-glass carafes of water from a large, flat stone slab on the floor and ascended the steps back to his offices.

Once there, he stopped at his sideboard to fill two glasses with water, setting one near the front of his desk, where Gabriela Lestly had seated herself. The other he set on the other side, nearer his own desk chair.

Still standing, he said, “Is there anything else I could offer for refreshment, Missus Lestly? I do have some spirits there on the sideboard.” He indicated the bottles of bourbon, rye, and tequila that stood on the top of the mahogany cabinet, which also displayed several more glasses.

“No, Mister Malik. The water will be fine.” She reached for the glass and took several deep swallows. Malik refilled her glass and set the carafe next to it.

He sat in his chair behind the desk and said, “What do you seek, ma’am? I mean, from me?”

“If you will, I would first like to explain my circumstances and those that brought me here.”

“By all means. Proceed as is most comfortable for you, Missus Lestly.”

“Comfortable? Why ‘comfortable?’” she asked, somewhat listlessly. “It seems an unusual term to hear from an attorney. Not to be offensive, but merely to note the curiosity of it.”

“Ma’am, it seems clear you are in distress, as well you ought, considering the loss you have lately suffered. I simply suggest that you proceed of a pace and manner which will not increase that distress more than may be necessary for your purposes.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you. In truth, I am not quite certain how to proceed.”

“Perhaps I could ask a question or two?”

“Please do.”

“Your husband, ma’am, Anna’s father. What is his status?”

She looked at her hands, again in her lap. “Dead, Mister Malik, three years ago, when Anna was thirteen. Brandon was killed in a cattle stampede. He was a good man. Anna adored him. I did, too, I suppose.”

“Again, condolences, Missus Lestly. The losses must be devastating.”

She nodded, still looking at her hands. “As you say, Mister Malik.” She raised her head and looked at him again.

“Has Anna any brothers or sisters?”

“I had two other girls, but they were taken as babies, by fevers.”

“Ah. I understand you have a ranch, southwest of here?”

“Yes, at the north end of Smoky Valley, just below Snow King Peak.”

“I think I’ve been by there, Missus Lestly, with my father, years ago. Large, adobe hacienda amidst the cottonwoods, ‘dobe barns and outbuildings, tin roof on the barn, good, clear creek just a stone throw down the hill?”

“Yes, that sounds like it. We only bought it five years ago. We’d come up from Texas after my husband sold the family ranch near Corpus Christi.”

“Smoky Valley’s a pretty area. Good grass and water. Easy pass out to the east. Bit far from the railroad, but then, a dozen years ago, there wasn’t a railroad within a month of herdin’, so I reckon that’s all a relative circumstance. Now you’d be only four, five days from a rail head.”

“Indeed, it was near a paradise, at least as far as cattle ranching goes, and I love it there. But, after Brandon died, his brother, Granger, who’d come up from Texas, to ‘help out,’ started pressuring me to sell.” She grimaced.

“As you may be aware, ma’am, I have had some, ah, unpleasantness that involved Granger Lestly in recent weeks. At the moment, I am purchasing several real properties from him at terms he may find less than palatable, but which he also finds necessary to swallow. I mention this only so that you’ll know I may harbor certain prejudices regarding your brother-in-law, as he may also hold against me.”

“Ha!” she scoffed. “No less than my own, Mister Malik. My brother-in-law is a snake in the grass. What is more terrible are the prejudices I harbor because he was present at the time of both Anna’s and Brandon’s deaths.”

“I see,” Malik said thoughtfully. “Perhaps that brings us full circle then. What do you want from me, Missus Lestly?”

“Some answers, Mister Malik, about my daughter’s death.” He leaned forward in his chair but she held up a hand. “No, don’t protest. I’ve read Deputy Marshal Lonegan’s report. He sent me a copy, along with a lock of Anna’s hair. I’ve also been told of the wounds on Granger’s cheek. When they left the ranch, my daughter was riding her pinto mare, Josephine, more of a pet than anything, and Granger was riding a sorrel stallion, according to my foreman.

“I’ve also talked to Jacob Baylor and his daughter, your brother’s wife. I know that much of the Marshal’s report was based on information you provided. And I’ve been in touch with Sheriff Banks and am familiar with the fairy tale he spins about a renegade Indian attack. I know that any form of justice will not be forthcoming from that quarter.”

“Missus Lestly, I’m not one who is in the business of dispensing justice, save, perhaps, in a courtroom. Is a wrongful death suit your intent? If so, you should know that I would be of more value as a witness than as an attorney.”

“No, sir, I am not pursuing either justice or vengeance at the moment.”

“Well, ma’am, the Deputy Marshal’s report included all the detail and speculations that I was able to supply, so I’m not sure what more I can tell you.”

“I want you to show me my daughter’s grave, Mister Malik.”

“Oh. Oh!” Malik was momentarily nonplussed. Finally, he said, “Missus Lestly, there’s quite a bit of back country between here and there. It’s horseback all the way, no towns, no trails, or even nearby ranches. You and the other lady would have to ride full saddle—”

“No other lady, Mister Malik. Just me. I ride western saddle and have trousers fit for the purpose. I’ve done my share of back-country riding, camped out, cooked on a fire, herded cattle, rode through rain and snow. I hope I’m a lady, but I’m definitely a rancher.”

“Oh, I see. Still, ma’am, it would be ... unseemly.”

“You’re worried about your reputation, Mister Malik?”

“Well, no, ma’am, not exactly, it’s just that, well, for yourself...”

She chuckled, perhaps a bit darkly. “Mister Malik, I’ve lost the two things I loved most in this world. My so-called reputation is of small concern compared to that. It serves no useful purpose and it interferes with my objectives. Its only possible function, that I can see, is to slow the wagging of tongues. There is nothing I want that wagging tongues can interfere with.”

“Missus Lestly, if you want your daughter’s body brought down to your ranch or to a church cemetery, I’d be glad to lead a recovery crew to the site.”

“That may be a consideration, Mister Malik, but I want to see where she met her end and where she found rest.” Now her tears began to flow. “I just need to be there. I can’t fully say why. She was...” She broke into open sobs.

Malik rose, poured a finger of rye into a small glass and set it near her water glass, then said, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He hurried next door to the dress shop. “Missus Palmer, I need several plain cotton kerchiefs, if you have them.”

“Right there on the shelf behind you, Mister Malik.” Eve Palmer, a comely woman of about thirty years, had been pumping the treadle of the sewing machine where she was seated.

“May I take half this stack? That’s five, no, six. Pay you later. Bit of a hurry.”

“Take ‘em an’ go, Mister Malik.”

“Thank you, Missus Palmer.”

Malik went back into the office where he placed the stack of white handkerchiefs close at hand to Gabriela Lestly. She had one of her own crumpled in her hand, but it was small and lacy, and not very practical. She took the top kerchief from the stack and, turning away, blew her nose.

She straightened in her chair and took a shuddering breath. Then she reached forward and lifted the glass with the rye and said, “If it’s all the same to you, I haven’t touched this and would much prefer some tequila.”

Malik took the rye and set it on his side of the desk, then poured a finger of tequila into another small glass. He set it on the desk near Gabriela Lestly and went back to his chair.

She held up the kerchief. “Very kind. Thank you. I did not expect to lose control like that.”

“Missus Lestly, how could you not? Circumstances have overwhelmed you. Any measure of control is quite remarkable.”

“Thank you for understanding.” She lifted the glass with the tequila to her lips and swallowed the contents in two gulps, followed by a quiet gasp. She dabbed at her eyes, then relaxed more in her chair. “I will pay all expenses and for your time, of course.”

Malik hesitated at the shift back to the business at hand. “Ma’am, the expenses aren’t what I question. I just don’t think I should be ... or, rather, you should be in that position. I’m not at all sure that I would be best suited—”

“Then who, Mister Malik? Should I ask for the marshals from Fort Birney? The deputy from Shepherds Crossing? Your friend from the Tsosie ranch? Or maybe my brother-in-law? I’m sure he’d jump at the chance.” She shook her head. “But you found Anna, Mister Malik, you chose her resting place. Who’s better suited than you?”

“Well..., yes, but, ah, it’s, ah, it’s awkward, ma’am.”

“More for me than for you, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, yes, ma’am., of course.”

“Well, then?”

He sat for several seconds, contemplating his hands, folded together on the desk. Then he looked up at her. “Very well, I will guide you. But I have business this week and,” he looked at an appointment book, “a meeting next Monday that can’t be put off and ... I suppose ... I could leave ... Tuesday morning, next week, for no more than ... ten days.”

He looked up from the calendar. “It’s about fifty rough miles up there, so maybe one-and-a-half or two days to get there, same coming back, a day or two up there, that’s maybe ... six should do it. We’ll take a pack mule. We have one at the ranch trained to follow without a lead rope. I’ll send word with my sister-in-law when she goes out there, or maybe Andy’ll be coming to town. Never can keep track of their comings and goings. But somebody from the ranch always comes in on Saturdays. Will you need a horse and tack, Missus Lestly?”

“Yes, I came by the train.”

“Very well. You need one gentle?”

“Just something saddle-broken and suited for the terrain. I can handle broken-in horses.”

“Good. We have a buckskin should suit you. I’ll have it brought in with Petal.”

“Petal?”

“The mule.”

“Ah. Does the buckskin have a name?”

“Sure. Widowmaker.” He watched her quizzical expression. “Kidding. He’s a gelding we call Apples. Loves ‘em. Apples. Apples loves apples, I mean.”

“Widowmaker. You are a stitch, Mister Malik,” she said in a dry tone.

“Sorry. Old family joke. By the way, will you be staying ‘til then or returning home?”

“No, I’ll be staying. I spent last night at a purely dreadful hotel near the depot. Missus Malik, your sister-in-law, recommended the Kuiper Ranch, south of town, so I’ll relocate there.”

“Do you need help with your baggage?”

“No, thank you. Missus Malik has already offered to bring a buckboard and drive me and my bags out there. We can easily manage.”

He nodded. “It’s really only a nice walk. But on a hot day and with heavy bags, well, that’s why the store keeps a buckboard for deliveries.”

“Then I will go about those arrangements. Thank you for your thoughtfulness and for agreeing to be my guide.” She stood and put on her bonnet and gathered her handbag. He stood, too. “Shall I check with you later in the week?” she asked.

He walked with her to the front door. “I have a room at the Kuiper Ranch. I usually take breakfast an’ supper there, so I’ll likely see you then.”

“Very well, then. Good day, Mister Malik.”

“Ma’am,” he said, with a slight bow.

She swept out of the office, shoulders squared and upright.

Malik took the glass of rye and poured it carefully back into the bottle. Then he poured two fingers of tequila into a clean glass and quickly drank it down. Afterwards, he stood, staring out the window toward the courthouse.

Jacob Baylor and Olin Wisser were relaxing in rocking chairs on the covered porch that fronted the bunk house at Mrs. Kuiper’s. Malik sat on the board deck, his back against a support post, one knee drawn up, foot on the deck, the other leg stretched out, with that foot on the grass. The three men were pursuing their individual tobacco habits.