Chapter 22

Bennet had gotten nothing else from Davidson. Once he saw the badge, he took such offense at being played for a fool that he refused to say anything else to the Marshal. But it wasn't guilt or fear that Bennet saw in the man, which was the important thing. It was pretty clear that the rustlers weren't bringing him their stolen cattle ... or that he didn't know it if they were.

He paid a visit to the sheriff then, or tried to. The office was empty. Out on the street, now displaying his badge on his vest prominently, Bennet asked around and eventually found a man wearing a star sitting in a saloon playing cards. The man looked up, saw Bennett's badge and scooted back.

"Be back in a while, boys," he said to the other three men at the table. One was wearing a banker's eyeshade. The other two looked like businessmen of one sort or another. "What can I do for you?" he asked Bennet.

Bennet smiled and stuck out his hand. "Bill Bennet, up from the Oklahoma Territory. Got time to let me ask some questions?"

"Bob Brady," said the sheriff, taking the offered hand, squeezing it and pumping it up and down once. "All the time in the world, Marshal. Buy you a drink?"

"I appreciate it, but maybe later," said Bennet. He didn't think the man would be insulted by his turning down the drink, seeing as how they were both lawmen. You never knew, though.

They walked outside, instinctively knowing that lots of ears would like to hear their discussion and unconsciously wanting to deny those ears. Bennet laid out plainly that he was looking for rustlers who had hit some of the herds using the Chisholm Trail.

"Haven't had that kind of trouble around here," said Brady firmly. "Not that I know of anyhow. We do get some mixed bunches in here, but most of them escaped from the drovers, rather than being taken."

"That's what Mr. Davidson said too," said Bennet.

"He's pretty much a straight arrow," said the sheriff. "The stealing he does is the legal type, where he offers half of what some man's cows are worth."

"How do you feel about the Little P."

"Man's crazy," said Brady immediately. "He's been scraping by out in Indian territory, pulling in strays. He even tried corralling some buffalos if what I hear is true. Was going to try to crossbreed them with cows. I laughed 'til I had to sit down when I heard that. He's a hard worker, though, and tough as nails. He's made friends with the Indians. Had to, to survive out there as long as he has."

"You heard anything about him driving a herd to Abilene?"

"Naw." Brady shook his head. "He's only got three hands. They all come to town with a small herd twice a year and kick up their heels, but they're little drives. I don't think he's ever brought more than two hundred head in at a time."

Bennet nodded. "Know anything about another feller? He's a newcomer, according to Davidson. He seems to think this man might be a squatter, north of here who's gathering strays."

"That would be Julian," said Bennet. "He didn't give a last name, but from what I could tell he stumbled upon Grady Baldwin's place. Found Grady dead and told me about it when he was in town. I only seen him once. I don't believe he's brought any cows to town."

"You say he looked you up?" asked Bennet.

"No. He said something to the bartender over at the Lucky Strike, who passed it on to me. I invited myself to sit down at his breakfast table, where I got the rest of the story."

"What did you think of him?"

"He was nervous, but I think he was telling the truth about Grady. I got the impression he planned to stay at Grady's place for a spell. And then last week I heard he was in town again, though I didn't see him that time. Spent quite a bit of money over at the general store. Had a woman and some kids with him, but they wasn't his kids, according to Bernice. She's the storekeeper's wife. You might go talk to her. She's a yapper when it comes to gossip." He thought for a few seconds. "I can tell you one thing, though. He wears his rig in a cross draw. I ain't seen many of them, and the ones I did fancied themselves as gunslingers. He didn't cause no trouble hereabouts. I'd have heard about it if he did."

"Where abouts did he find this dead man?"

"I ain't never been out there, but Grady said it was a day's ride north and maybe a little west of here. Grady came here from California and wanted to set up shop as a farmin' man. Paid for everything with gold dust. That young feller said he'd been shot in the head, right through his hat and that all that was left was bones. I think I might know who done it, but he's long gone and Lord knows where he might be."

Bennet took the information on the supposed victim, and the man who the sheriff suspected of the murder. He'd wire it to Topeka one of these days, though he didn't expect anybody to get too excited about it. He shook the man's hand again and they both said they might see each other again some day and the Marshal left the sheriff to go back to his card game.

Bennet did go talk to Bernice Abernathy, who was all a-twitter when she realized this important man wanted her opinion. She remembered the man he was asking about well.

"He came in here out of the blue one day and bought two dresses and seeds for a garden," she said. "The poor boy didn't have the faintest idea what to get. I had to tell him what to buy. You know he didn't even know what sizes of dresses to get. He seemed like such a nice boy, though, so I helped him all I could. I didn't realize he was a criminal! Mercy me!"

"I didn't say he was a criminal, Ma'am," said Bennet. "I just need to find him, that's all."

"He's not a criminal?" She brightened. "I'm so glad because that woman he brought in here last week was such a sweet dear. Her name is Arabella, of all things. Isn't that a pretty name? I never heard that name before. I'm not even sure how to spell it! And there was some sadness about her too, though of course I didn't pry into that. But I could tell there was something bothering her."

She finally had to take a breath and Bennet spoke quickly, before she got started again.

"What's this man like?" he asked quickly.

"Well he seems like a nice young man," said Bernice, frowning as if it took great mental energy to dredge up more information. "He's a cowboy, I can tell you that. That's probably why he didn't know a thing about gardening. Wears his gun all funny too. And there's something going on between him and that sweet woman too, though of course I don't know what. But they were entirely too casual with each other, him calling her by her first name and all, and entirely too young to be her husband. She was wearing a ring, but he wasn't. I thought he must be her hired hand, because she was the one with the money, but surely no hired hand would call his employer by her first name like that, do you think?"

It wasn't really a question, because she didn't give him time to answer it.

"Her children were right well mannered too," she went on. "Of course like all children they were most interested in the penny candy. Come to think of it that Julian fellow was ordering the boy around. A hired hand wouldn't surely wouldn't do that."

"Maybe, " Bennett's voice was louder than usual, but she stopped, her eyes blinking, and he had a chance to go on. "Maybe all three of them are her children. How old were they all?"

"Julian wasn't her child," said Bernice firmly. "He called her by her first name, and the other two called her 'Mamma.' I suppose he was seventeen or eighteen. It's hard to tell when a man's been out on the range for a long time, and he had that look to him. The boy was maybe fifteen or sixteen. I'd have put the girl at that age two, but come to think of it they didn't look like twins or anything, and a woman can't just pop out two babies in one year, so I suppose she might be older." She snatched a breath, possibly afraid that Bennet would interrupt her in the delivery of this very important information. "Or the boy could be younger, except that he seems to have some cowboy in him too, and the muscle of an older boy, so I reckon I just don't rightly know how old they were."

"And this woman?" asked Bennet, wondering if it was a good idea to go on. "How old was she?"

Bernice's eyebrows rose a full inch and a look of indignation came onto her face.

"Why Marshal, a cultivated man like yourself should know that it isn't polite in the slightest to inquire into a woman's age. I am surprised at you!"

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