Читать книгу The Mystery at Dark Star Ranch - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 4

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The spirited horse and its cowboy rider had disappeared when Hal looked again. No more smoke emerged from the tree-covered butte and there was not a sign of life anywhere. Warm, chinook winds murmured through the noonday silence and the distant cry of a bird sounded faintly. Then, suddenly, the ear-splitting noise of the flivver’s engine profaned the tranquil scene.

The driver came rushing to his wheel and adjusted the spark. The Ford was again shaking pathetically as its breathless owner climbed hurriedly behind the wheel.

“Hope I ain’t made you fidgety a-settin’ so long. This car ain’t give me trouble like this in quite a spell.” He chuckled. “Maybe it don’t like the journey. Cars have got sense, more’n humans have got sometimes. Anyways, this car has. It jest natcherally gits balky when it’s forced to travel this region an’ that’s all I kin make out of it.”

“What’s the matter with this region?” Hal asked as the car rattled on over the narrow, dusty trail.

The driver’s ears reddened perceptibly. “Doggone, I ain’t a-wantin’ to seem like a gossip, sir, and you a friend of the Merrivales....”

“I’m merely a friend of Richard Merrivale,” Hal interposed, leaning far forward in the back seat. “This is the first time I’ve ever been to the Dark Star Ranch. I know nothing about the rest of the Merrivales. Richard I know merely from visiting Lee Holliday at the Comet X-l Ranch. I met him there when I was out this way last summer.”

“Ain’t Miss Holliday to Europe?”

“Yep. That’s why Richard Merrivale is going to be my host this fair summer season. He told me last year that he’d be highly insulted if I didn’t crash in on him and pay the Dark Star a visit sometime, so I’m taking him up on it. I love Montana this time of year.”

The driver chuckled audibly. “Pardon my saying so, Mister ... Mister ...”

“Hal Keen.”

“Mister Hal Keen. Wa’al, as I wuz a-goin’ to say, you might love Montana more than the Merrivales ’ll love to see yore smilin’ face comin’ to the Dark Star. They don’t have company and frum all I’ve heerd they ain’t aimin’ to have any.”

“Well, they’re going to have me for company and they’re going to like it,” Hal said with a deep laugh. He whipped his Panama hat from his warm head and smoothed down his red, curling hair. “Of course, Richard Merrivale gave me only a general invitation, but I’m the kind of a fellow who follows up invitations, general or otherwise. So if you’re not really sincere about asking me to your house, cowboy, don’t give me an invitation of any kind. I’m the boy who’ll take you up on it.”

The driver laughed heartily. “Yore welcome to my house any time, stranger—I mean Mister Hal Keen.”

“That’s better, and thanks for the invite. And now that we’re on the fair road to being pals, tell me what’s the matter with the Merrivale family. You seem to imply....”

“I mean that they ain’t what you’d call an affectionate family. In fact, there’s some folks what says that the Merrivales hate each other like pizen.”

“Poison?”

“Yes sirree, Mister Hal Keen. That’s the talk about ’em. Mebbe you’d say it’s enough to make ’em hate each other when you hear about the will that Old Man Merrivale left. He died jest five years ago. Then two months ago young Ellsworth Merrivale wuz killed. Elly for short, we called him.”

“Who killed him?” Hal asked, interested at once.

The loquacious driver looked over his shoulder and winked confidentially. “He wuz found near the bound’ry of the Mellow Moon Ranch (it’s a rival of the Dark Star and the property adjoins it). Thar ain’t been good feelin’ between the two ranches sence Tuck Liggett bought the Mellow Moon. He started the bound’ry dispute with Old Man Merrivale and claimed that part o’ the creek was his’n. Wa’al the fight’s still on an’ I guess it’ll still be on till one or t’other of ’em wins.”

Hal gasped, surprised at the driver’s rapid-fire chatter. He leaned farther forward and tapped the man on the shoulder. “And this Elly Merrivale—you still haven’t told me who killed him!”

“Thar’s the myst’ry, stranger. The coroner sez he wuz killed accidental. You see he wuz found a-layin’ near his horse deader’n a doornail. A bullet wuz in his head an’ thar wuz powder marks on his face, an’ near him laid his gun. It looked like he wuz thrown frum his horse an’ his gun exploded.”

“That’s probably what did happen. I can’t see any mystery....”

“Jest the same thar is. The sheriff admitted thar wuzn’t a doggone bullet missin’ frum Elly’s gun!”

“Hmph! That is queer,” Hal mused. Then: “And they accepted the coroner’s verdict of accidental death and just let it ride, did they?”

“’Zactly, Mister Hal Keen. Feelin’ is wuss than ever between them ranches—yes sirree! But wust of all, yore friend Richard ain’t been the same since Elly wuz killed. Him an’ Elly wuz twins an’ my, how they stuck together! They jest thought the sun rose an’ set in each other.”

“Too bad! But he’s got another brother, I believe, hasn’t he?”

“Yes, a brother, Clark, and a sister, Aida—twins too.”

“Older than Richard?”

“Four or five years, I reckon. An’ hateful as sin. Wa’al, Mister Hal Keen, I reckon I got you plumb full o’ gossip ’bout the Merrivales, eh? You’ll know jest what yore a-goin’ into.”

“I ought to know after all your earnest efforts,” Hal said, smiling wryly. “And this Tuck Liggett of the Mellow Moon—what about him?”

“He’s some ten years older’n Clark Merrivale. ’Bout forty, I reckon, and a bad hombre fer a-gittin’ what he goes after. He ain’t much wuss than Clark Merrivale, though. Reckon they’re well matched up if it comes to that.”

Hal sat back and, with an air of abstraction, watched some sheep grazing contentedly on a butte near by. A vast herd of cattle roamed the peaceful prairie and spread out like dark specks on the bright noonday horizon. Insects hummed monotonously in the drowsy air, and an azure-blue sky overhead seemed to complete the atmosphere of contentment which lay over the region.

“Say,” Hal said, his mind on the horse and rider, “what place was that where we broke down before?”

“That wuz a trail what skirts the Mellow Moon property,” the driver answered readily. “We’re still on the same trail, if it comes to that, but about here and on to the other side of the range the Dark Star claims it’s their property.”

“And I suppose the Mellow Moon claims it’s theirs, huh?”

“Jest so.”

“I see. Do we have to cross the range before we get to the Dark Star; is that it?”

The driver nodded. “Crosley’s Range they calls it.”

“Yes, I know,” Hal said reminiscently. “A few years ago I had some corking experiences up in the hills. At the Bitter Root Mine.”

“The year the dam burst?”

“And how! I was visiting the Hollidays that summer for the first time.”

“Now I know who you are!” the driver exclaimed. “The nephew of that government secret service man, Denis Keen!”

“Right the first time,” Hal laughed.

“And you’re the hombre that stopped those mail plane robberies and found out all about that old hermit up on Gordon’s Creek. You sure did get to the bottom of things.”

“Now, now,” Hal interposed modestly. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Yore the kind that jest gets to the bottom of things. That’s what Miss Lee Holliday tole about you in town. She wuz mighty proud o’ you. Guess it comes natcheral to you like, eh, Mister Hal Keen? Bein’s as how yore uncle’s in the secret service ... mebbe you kin ferret out how Elly Merrivale really wuz killed, even if it is two months ago! Mebbe you got an idee already....”

“Say—whoa!” Hal laughed. Suddenly, however, he frowned and lowering his voice said, “Listen, buddy, would you kind of forget those things about me if I asked you to?”

“Reckon I could, and I would—why?”

“Because it suits my purpose not to have anybody around here remember that incident of Gordon’s Creek, if possible. Fortunately most people haven’t your marvelous long memory. I’m counting on the possibility that the Merrivales’ memory won’t be stirred by my name. Also this Tuck Liggett. You see it would hinder me considerably so....”

“I reckon I understand, Mister Hal Keen. I jest don’t remember nothin’ ’bout you from now on.”

“You’re aces high.”

“I’m turrible interested to know what yore a-goin’ to the Merrivales’ for. You got somethin’ up that sleeve o’ yourn an’ I know it.”

“To tell the truth I have, buddy. Say, I’ve not asked you your name all this time—what is it?”

“Buck Perry,” laughed the driver. “I live in the white cottage next to the depot and if you don’t find me one place you’ll find me at t’other. I’m always a-waitin’ fer a fare at train time.”

“O. K., Buck. I’ll remember that tip. Perhaps I may need your taxi sometime again—who knows?”

“Reckon you might,” Perry answered with a chuckle. “If you do, you can depend on Buck any time. Mebbe you’ll kinder let me know, if you can, how things go with you.”

“Bet your life I will,” Hal assured him. He took out a much read letter from his coat pocket and straightened out its many folds to read it once again. Here and there he picked out a sentence which was of particular interest to him: “Please go to the Dark Star for my sake, Hal ... I told Richard you might be able to help him about poor Ellsworth’s death ... he wants you to come but he can’t send you any specific invitation ... his twin brother and sister are so hateful to him. Still, if you dropped in on them unexpectedly and used Richard’s general invitation as an excuse—common courtesy and real western hospitality are too strong in their veins to refuse you as a guest ... try it for my sake, Hal.... I’m so fond of Richard....”

He looked up and smiled resignedly. “Just my luck,” he sighed, “that Lee Holliday should be so fond of Richard Merrivale. She’s fond of me—just fond. That’s why I’m reduced to the level of helping this Richard she’s so fond of. Oh, well....”

He smiled the rest of the way to the Dark Star Ranch. He really didn’t mind being reduced to the level of helping Richard Merrivale as much as he had thought he would.