Monument Rock (Ss) (1998) (2 page)

Actually, it was a one-sided street. The houses faced south, which had them lookin
g
across the street at the cottonwoods that line Squaw Creek. Behind those cottonwood
s
were the back doors of the business buildings on Main Street. The saloon, barbershop
,
marshal's office, harness shop, and general store backed up to the trees.

Hibbs lived in the hotel and did not drink. He was an odd personality, not talkative
,
and yet he had a habit of always being around when a conversation developed. Unobtrusively
,
Utah Elaine watched him and waited, knowing his time would come.

Hibbs was never found near the barbershop. For a man so interested in gossip, thi
s
was interesting if not odd. Hibbs went to the barbershop only when he needed a haircut.

From the beginning Blaine had known that Hibbs was his key to the situation, ye
t
while watching Hibbs, he had listened and studied the town, and one by one he eliminate
d
the possibilities. The more men he eliminated, the more certain he became of th
e
killer's cunning. He had left no loose ends.

Utah Blaine had learned, long since, how to apply simple logic to a problem. Me
n
were creatures of habit. Therefore he must observe the habits of the possible suspect
s
and watch for any deviation from the usual.

Opportunity was a consideration. Not more than a half-dozen men in town would hav
e
been free to move at the hours of the two midday crimes. Childress could not leav
e
his store at the noon hour, and had a wife who insisted upon his being on time fo
r
supper. Hunt was a man who habitually drank his supper at the saloon, a convivia
l
soul whose absence would have been noted and commented upon. So it was with mos
t
of the others, yet Pickard was
a
bachelor. He had means of learning, through the talk around the shop, of who ha
d
made strikes and who did not, and he could be safely absent at the hours of crimes.

Moreover, the cottonwood-cloaked creek bed back of the shop offered an easy mean
s
of leaving and returning to town unobserved. All of these were logical reasons fo
r
suspicion, but none of it was proof.

On the morning of his tenth day in town, Utah went to the barbershop for a shave.

Pickard had gentle hands and he worked carefully and swiftly. He was shaving Utah'
s
throat when Utah said, from under Pickard's left hand, "Coin' to be a break soon.

I've got a lead on the man who's been doin' the killing around here."

For only a second the razor stopped moving, and then it continued more slowly. "I
t
hought," Pickard said, "it was the work of casual drifters, or maybe a gang."

"No," Elaine said decidedly, "it's been one man. One mighty shrewd man. He's don
e
it all, and he's been smart enough to protect himself. But every man has to hav
e
help, an' I've got a lead on that."

Pickard started to strop his razor, and then the door opened, and closed. "How ar
e
you, Mr. Church? Elaine tells me he has a lead on those murders we used to have befor
e
he came."

"That right, Utah?"

The razor smoothed a patch on his chin. "Yeah. Fact is, I've had a lead ever sinc
e
I came to town. From the very hour I got in, you might say."

Pickard finished his job and dusted Elaine's face with powder. Utah sat up in th
e
chair and felt his face. "You sure do give a fine shave, Pickard. . . . Close," h
e
said, looking at the barber, "but not too close."

When they had gone, Elaine and Church walkin
g
together, Pickard stared after them. A lead since the very moment... he might hav
e
seen Hibbs!

Yet, what could he have seen? And suppose he had seen Hibbs come to him? It woul
d
prove nothing, and Hibbs could not talk. He would not dare to talk. So there wa
s
nothing to worry about. Nevertheless, he did worry.

He had not been fooled by Elaine. The tall gunfighter was too friendly, too casual.

His manner did not go with his cold, watchful eyes and the strong-boned face. Alon
e
in the apartment back of his shop, Pickard paced the floor and thought.

It was time to go, but he must be careful. Suppose Elaine was only waiting for hi
m
to uncover his loot and so be caught with the goods? Or suppose he frightened Hibb
s
in some way and forced him to talk? The more he considered, the more he worried.

He had been a fool to wait so long. He could have gone long ago. Why, he had ove
r
sixty thousand dollars!

Slowly, he went over the problem again. Hibbs might talk, of course, but he had alread
y
made plans for Hibbs and it was time he put them into operation. Pickard was a coolheade
d
man and utterly cold-blooded. He had long known that before he left, Hibbs must die.

Aside from the knowledge of Hibbs's past, the one thing he knew was that Hibbs woul
d
wait for him to recover the hidden loot, and then Hibbs would fry to murder him fo
r
it. Pickard knew that idea lay in Hibbs's mind as if he himself had written it there.

And to an extent, he had.

If Hibbs betrayed him, he'd never get a chance at the money. It also allowed hi
m
the chance to trap Hibbs. So now to prepare that trap, he had to lead Hibbs out o
f
town into the hills, and then kill him.

Blaine had formed the habit of riding out of town at least once each day. He varie
d
the times of these rides so as to allow for no easy planning of future crimes o
r
observation of his moves.

First, he rode to the scenes of the crimes and studied the terrain and approaches.

There were, of course, no tracks. There had been rain and wind since, but they wer
e
not what he was searching for. Nor was he looking for any clue that might have bee
n
dropped. He was trying to imagine how the killer would have concealed his loot, fo
r
he would not have dared to risk being seen carrying it back into town.

The other rides were short, and they ended in a small clump of juniper atop a ridg
e
outside of Squaw Creek. There, with a pair of field glasses, Utah Blaine watche
d
the town.

The break came suddenly. On one bright and sunny Sunday morning he saw Hibbs com
e
from the hotel and walk across the street. Going down the alley between the buildings
,
Hibbs turned suddenly into the old, abandoned store building on his right. Not tw
o
minutes later he stepped out, only now he had a rifle and a canteen.

Utah Blaine settled himself firmly and watched with care. Hibbs went down into a
n
arroyo and out of town, working his way up the hill right toward Elaine's position!

Just when he was sure he must move or be seen, Hibbs stopped and, settling down
,
began to wait.

Almost an hour passed and then Pickard came from the back door of the barbersho
p
and slid down into the creek bed. Watching, Blaine saw the man working his way downstream
,
then saw him come out amon
g
some boulders. Hibbs got up and began to work his way along the flank of the mountain
,
keeping Pickard in view. Keeping higher and staying among the junipers, Elaine kep
t
pace with Hibbs. Then the junipers grew more sparse and scattered out. Reluctantly
,
Elaine swung over the crest and kept the ridge between himself and the two men. Fro
m
time to time he climbed higher and let his eyes seek out the clerk, then suddenl
y
the man was gone.

Elaine swore bitterly. To cross the ridge within view of either Hibbs or Pickar
d
would ruin the whole plan, and his only chance lay in riding ahead to intercept thei
r
trail as it left the ridge, which ended a few miles farther along. So swinging hi
s
horse, he rode down into the wash and followed it out until the ridge ended. It wa
s
only then that he realized how that ridge had betrayed him.

Some distance back the ridge divided into a rough Y, and he had been following th
e
southernmost of the two arms, while Hibbs had obviously followed along the northern.

It was at least two miles across the bottom to the other ridge and it was very ho
t
now, and close to noon.

Before crossing the gap, he studied it with care, but there was no sign of eithe
r
man. He crossed as quickly as he could, then climbed the far ridge and, taking
a
chance, mounted the crest. As far as the eye could reach, there was no living thing.

Irritated, he rode down the far side, scouting for tracks. He found none. The tw
o
men, and both on foot, had lost him completely. How long since he had lost Hibbs?

He checked the sun and his memory. It must have been almost an hour, as best he coul
d
figure. Turning back, h
e
rode toward town. He had gone no more than two hundred yards when he drew up sharply.

Before him on the trail lay the sprawled figure of a man, half-covered with the rock
y
debris of a landslide. Blaine dropped from his horse. It was Hibbs, and he was quit
e
dead. Climbing the hillside, Blaine found scuff marks in the dirt where someone
,
almost certainly Pickard, had sat, bracing himself while he forced a large boulde
r
from its socket of earth with his heels.

Pickard must have known Hibbs would follow, or had seen him, and had pushed dow
n
these boulders, probably coming by later to make sure there was no doubt. Yet al-j]
l
owing for the time it took Hibbs to get to this point on foot, it could have bee
n
no more than twenty to thirty minutes ago that he had been killed!

If he rode swiftly now, he might overtake Pickard before he could get back to Squa
w
Creek!

Yet his ride was in vain. All was quiet when he rode into town and stabled his horse.

Pickard was quietly shaving Tom Church and had the job half-done. He glanced up a
t
Blaine and nodded. "Hot day for riding, I guess," he said conversationally. "Yo
u
can have it. I'd rather stay in my barbershop."

Baffled and irritated, Utah did not trust himself to speak. There was no way th
e
man could have gotten back here that fast. It must be someone else whom he had seen
,
it must- He stopped. Suppose Pickard had a horse waiting for him out there on th
e
ridge somewhere? And had raced back, changed shirts quickly, and returned to hi
s
work as he did each day? But where was the horse? And where had he been concealed?

Utah Elaine dropped in at the saloon for a drink and the first man he saw was Re
d
Williams. The latter grinned, "Howdy, Marshal! No hard feelin's?"

Elaine chuckled. "Why should there be? What are you doin' in town in the middle o
f
the week?"

"Come in after some horses. The boss keeps a half-dozen head of good saddle stoc
k
down at his creek barn in case any of the boys need a change of horse."

"Creek barn? Where's that?"

"Just outside of town a ways. We got two outfits, one west of town, an' the othe
r
seventeen miles northeast. We switch horses at the creek barn every now and again.

It's a line shack right out of town."

"You taking all the horses?"

"Nope. Just four head. We're mighty short of saddle stock right now, the boys haven'
t
rounded up the bunch off the west range yet. Funny thing," he said, "durned kid
s
been ridin' 'em, I guess. One of Tom's best horses is stove up."