Hoofbeats of Danger (9 page)

Annie saw that Billy was right. “But why? Who would take a knife to a horse like that?”

“It had to have happened in the barn yesterday, sometime after you groomed her,” Billy said somberly. “But before she went crazy—nobody could have got near her then. That means it must have been somebody from the stagecoach. Or somebody from the station, Annie.”

Before Annie could reply, Magpie made a strangled wheeze as another spasm shook her. Annie swallowed hard. Suddenly she felt overwhelmed. “Oh, Billy, what if she gets worse? What if … what if she dies?” Her eyes welled with tears and her mouth began to tremble.

Billy reached over to give Annie's shoulder a squeeze. “As long as she's got strength enough to keep walking, she's got a chance. And as long as we can keep her here, away from folks who'd like to shoot her—”

The image of her father crumpling to the ground flashed into Annie's mind. She shut her eyes tightly.

Billy sighed and went on. “My guess is that somebody planned that cut to look like an arrow wound. Maybe he overheard me last night bragging about being attacked—that could have planted the idea in his brain.”

Annie pressed a weary hand to her forehead. “But why? What purpose would it serve?”

Billy shrugged. “It would sure enough make the Indians look bad. Maybe it's someone who hates Indians. Or somebody who's bent on stirring up trouble between the Indians and the Overland.” He snapped his fingers. “That's it. Remember when the Paiute attacks shut down the Pony Express this summer? If the company thinks the Indians are interfering again, we could have a whole heap of trouble break out.”

Just then Annie heard a rustle at the top of the ravine, and she ducked low All this talk about sabotage and attacks was making her jumpy.

Glancing up, Annie saw Redbird peering down at them from the bank above. “Annie?” she called down. “Is everything all right?”

Hearing a new voice, Magpie shied and bolted a few yards down the gully, nearly pulling the rope out of Annie's hands. As Redbird joined Billy and Annie, Magpie shivered and lowered her head to drink thirstily at the creek. “We found Magpie all tangled up in the bramble patch,” Annie told her friend. “Billy and I cut her loose.”

“We're doing everything we can to keep her moving around,” Billy added.

“How's Pa?” Annie asked Redbird anxiously. “He must be better or you wouldn't have left him, I know.”

“He's resting easy now,” Redbird said, “but he's still blacked out. We won't really know how bad he got hurt until he wakes up. Your mother's with him.”

“Looks like Magpie's having terrible stomach cramps,” Billy put in. “And look there.” He pointed to the wound on Magpie's flank. “Someone cut her with a knife.”

Redbird pulled out her remedy pouch, which was hanging on a leather thong around her neck. “I've got a little pot of salve in here that's good for flesh wounds. It'll help heal all those scratches from the sticker bushes, too.”

She inched forward, approaching the fretful horse. Magpie watched with an uneasy eye, but stood still, as if she sensed Redbird could be trusted.

“Does it look like someone rubbed poison into that wound?” Annie asked as Redbird deftly worked the ointment into the pony's twitching flank.

“I just can't say for certain,” Redbird said. “I hate to think anybody would do such a thing.”

“I hate it, too,” Annie declared, “but it's looking more and more likely. And what if other horses are hurt next?” She rubbed her dirty hands on her skirt. “My pa's job is on the line already—we don't need anything more to go wrong. I can't just sit here. I'm going back to the station to see what I can find out.”

“What about Magpie?” Redbird asked. “I can't stay here with her—I have to get back to your pa.”

“You two go back. I'll stay,” Billy offered.

“But Jeremiah expects your help in the barn,” Annie reminded him. “You'll get in trouble if you're gone from the station much longer.”

Billy dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “It's more important to me to take care of Magpie. I'm bound to get fired from this job soon, anyway. I'm not much of a company man.”

Annie paused, looking at Billy for a moment in a new light. Suddenly she realized that Billy's days with the Pony Express were numbered. He'd come to be such a part of her life, she'd never imagined him moving on. But he was bound to—and sooner rather than later. She reached over and squeezed his wrist. “I'm beholden to you, Billy.”

He looked away, embarrassed. “You just go back, girl. You won't figure out what's been going on as long as you're jabbering away here.”

The two girls set off, hopping back over the creek. Redbird hoisted herself up the gully wall, then reached down to give Annie a hand.

They hurried back the way they had come. As they jogged through the pine scrub, early morning light broke through the clouds. Birds sang as if glad the storm was over; Annie picked out the loose trill of a junco, the coo of a mourning dove, and the distinctive mew of a catbird. Sunbeams sparkled on the rain-drenched pine needles. The air was crisp and cool.

They were still some distance from the station when Annie heard the far-off crack of a whip and an ominous rumble of iron wheels. Startled, she jumped up on a granite boulder to look.

The stagecoach was jolting down the eastward track, leaving Red Buttes Station.

She urgently waved at Redbird. “They're going! Whoever poisoned Magpie could be riding away on that stage right now. We've got to stop them!”

Redbird scrambled up behind Annie on the rock. “Forget it, Annie,” Redbird said, her eyes on the departing stage. “You'd never convince that driver to stop. You have no proof that anybody on that stagecoach did anything wrong.”

C
HAPTER
10

H
ARD
P
ROOF

A dread silence hung over the station as the girls entered the empty yard. Things often seemed extra quiet after a stage had left, Annie had noticed. But it was even worse today.

Without speaking, they went inside the station house. The main room was in disarray, with empty porridge bowls, tin mugs, and dirty spoons still sitting on the plank table. Annie set a tipped-over rocking chair back upright. Someone must have knocked it over when the sound of Pa's accident had first drawn everyone to the yard. In the distress ever since, no one had thought to right it again.

Redbird gave Annie a quick hug. “I'll be by his bedside if you need me,” she said softly. “Good luck—I hope you can figure out who poisoned Magpie.” She headed into the Dawsons' sleeping room.

Annie hung back, peering hesitantly through the half-open door. She could see her father's still form under the tattered quilt, and her mother seated on a wooden stool, her lips moving as she read the Bible.

Annie turned her face away. She'd seen her share of illness and death; disease had often raged through the poor, makeshift homes of the California mining camp. But she was still stunned to see her own father struck down. He had always seemed so strong, so hard, so tough.

“Annie?” came a small voice by the fireplace. Surprised, Annie noticed Davy, seated forlornly on the woodbox.

Her heart went out to her little brother. The best thing she could do for him was to keep matters as normal as possible, she figured. She took a deep breath, suddenly feeling bone weary from grief and strain—not to mention spending all last night riding in the rain. But the time to rest had not yet come.

“Heavens, who let that fire go out?” Annie asked briskly. “Have we got any kindling, Davy?”

Davy unfolded his tightly curled limbs. “Th-there's kindling here in the woodbox.”

“Well, pile some on, and maybe add a couple new logs,” Annie directed him. “I'll get the tinderbox to light the fire. Let's get this mess cleaned up before Ma comes out.”

For once, Davy seemed glad to be told what to do. He and Annie bustled around the room, making up the fire and then clearing the table. She yearned to head out to the barn, to try to solve the riddle of what had happened to Magpie. But for the moment, Magpie was safe—nobody was going to shoot her right now. And Annie was badly needed here.

Once the fire was blazing, Annie heated water in an iron kettle over the flames. She dipped each bowl in the kettle, scraped off the dried porridge with a stiff little bundle of straw, swirled the bowl around, and then handed it to Davy to dry.

“Annie?” Davy frowned at the bowl he was wiping dry. “How long do you figure it'll be before Pa gets better?”

“I don't rightly know,” Annie answered. “But say, wasn't it lucky that Redbird was here already? Can you imagine if we'd had to ride up and fetch her
after
the accident? But instead she's right by his side, fixing him up as good as new”

Davy thrust out his chin doggedly. “Jeremiah said that was a powerful hard kick Magpie gave Pa,” he said. ‘At first I was afraid she'd killed him. He still could die, couldn't he, Annie? Don't lie to me.”

Annie paused, brought up short. She realized she'd been talking down to Davy. Her brother deserved more respect; he wasn't a baby anymore. “I reckon that's true, Davy,” she admitted quietly. “I'm awful scared about him dying. You are too, aren't you? But all we can do is hope and pray.”

Davy's blue eyes filled with tears. “I just wish I hadn't thought so many mean thoughts toward Pa,” he mumbled. “I wish I could take them all back, right now!”

“I feel just the same way, Davy,” Annie confessed with a catch in her throat. She opened her arms and wrapped them around her little brother. They sat huddled like that for a few minutes.

Finally Annie let him go with a deep, comforted sigh. Jumping to her feet, she seized on a new task, folding the blankets that the coach passengers had left in a heap by the woodbox. Davy picked up a broom propped against the wall near the fireplace. He began to whistle as he swept the hearth.

Underneath the blankets Annie found the McGuffey's Reader Davy had been thumbing through yesterday. She slipped it into her pocket. Books were few and precious out here. With no school around, she was bound and determined to teach Davy his letters herself. She couldn't let him lose this book.

Carrying the pile of blankets to the chest of drawers, Annie forced herself to think about Magpie. She knew if she didn't, she'd begin to worry about her family's future—and right now, that was even more worrisome. Instead, she ran over yesterday's events once more in her mind. Who had had a chance to cut Magpie? Jeremiah and her pa, she remembered, had been going back and forth between the hay meadow and the barn all afternoon. Billy might have helped with the haying too, though Annie suspected he'd slipped off to the hayloft instead for an afternoon nap—he'd been dead tired after his hard ride. Once the stagecoach came in, however …

Suddenly, Annie noticed small thunking noises coming from the far corner of the room. “Davy? What are you doing?” She glanced over at her brother.

Davy was kneeling by the woodbox, the broom on the floor beside him. In his right hand he held a folding pocketknife. He cocked his wrist, then threw the knife at the log cabin wall. Its silver point pierced the wood and the knife stuck there, quivering.

Annie frowned. “Where'd you get that fancy knife, Davy?” she asked. “I've never seen it before. I'd remember something newfangled like that.” Most of the men at the station, like Billy, carried long Indian-style knives in their belts, not clever folding contraptions like this.

Davy yanked the knife out of the wall and clutched it to his chest. “I found it out in the barn. I reckon one of the coach passengers dropped it. But they're gone now, Annie—I can keep it, can't I?” he pleaded. “Finders keepers, you know.”

“When did you find it?” Annie asked, suspicion dawning. She shut the blanket chest and stepped over to get a closer look.

“Last night, after supper,” Davy confessed slowly. “I guess I should've said something then, so the owner could claim it. But it's so fine, Annie!”

Annie took the knife from Davy. She turned it over in her hand curiously.

The knife had a dull brown handle and a short steel blade. At the base of the blade, where it folded into the handle, was a flaking crust of something dark red.

“Where in the barn was it lying, Davy?” Annie asked sharply.

“On the floor—just outside Magpie's stall,” Davy answered.

Annie pushed the blade backward on its spring. Twisted in the tiny hinge were a couple of horse hairs—white and black.

Here was the proof Annie needed. Someone
did
cut Magpie deliberately—using this very knife!

C
HAPTER
11

S
CENE OF THE
C
RIME