A Shelter of Hope (12 page)

“Why was it you came to the Dumas cabin?” Zack questioned Pike.

“Cabin fever, I guess. I live on up the mountain a ways off. I figured on spending some time in town. I brought my own pelts down and stopped here on the way.”

“And what did you find when you got here?” Zack questioned, still taking a visual inventory of the main room of the cabin. He stopped long enough to study the grizzled character. He stood at least a foot shorter than Zack and smelled as though it had been a month of Sundays since he’d seen a bath.

Pike shrugged. “Didn’t find much of anything, ’ceptin’ that dead man.”

“Nobody else was around?” Zack pressed.

“Nope. Not even the girl.”

“This girl,” Zack questioned, moving again to the hearth. “How old is she?” Pike didn’t answer, causing Zack to pause in his duties. “Well? Don’t you have any idea how old she is?”

“I was just figurin’ it up,” Pike replied. “Best as I can figure she’s 78 seventeen, maybe eighteen.”

“And this wife of Louis Dumas,” Zack continued, checking the mantel for anything that might shed light on the situation, “you say she died?”

“That’s what I’d heard. Died or run off. This country’s mighty hard on women.”

“But if she’d run off, wouldn’t she have taken the girl?”

Pike shrugged. “I don’t rightly know. The Dumases kept to themselves. Louis and I played cards and trapped together in the early years, but that was it. We wasn’t much for socializin’.”

Zack nodded. “Yet you came here first before going on over to Uniontown.”

Again Pike shrugged. It seemed to be a habit of his. “Like I said, it’s been a while since I’d seen another human being. I figured Dumas would be about as much in need of whiskey as me. Not to mention a good game of cards. Sure couldn’t get that stuck here all by yourself—even if you had a child with you.”

Zack halted his questioning while he peered into the bedroom area of the cabin. Two crude homemade beds were the main occupants of the room. A nightstand stood beside the smaller of the two beds and a trunk marked the foot of the same. On the far side of the room, Zack noted a small handmade wooden bench. It looked like the kind used for storage, so Zack crossed the room and lifted the seat.

Inside there was a hodgepodge of articles. Blankets lined the top, and under these were several pieces of clothing that clearly belonged to a baby. A silver-handled brush and comb, several pieces of paper that spoke of operas in Denver, and other feminine memorabilia were buried beneath these. At least they offered proof that a woman had actually lived in this cabin at one time. Seeing nothing noteworthy, Zack went to the trunk at the end of the small bed. It was empty.

Straightening up, Zack pulled out his pocket watch and noted the time. “My guess is that it’ll be dark in another couple of hours. I think we’d best get that man buried and head over to Uniontown.”

Pike, who’d continued to watch Matthews from the cloth partition, gave his typical shrug. “It’s hard work burying a man.”

Zack nodded. “But we can’t leave him out there, and I see no reason to drag him back in here. The sooner we get to it, the better. Why don’t you go scout around in that shed outside and see if you can scare up a shovel.”

Zack waited for Pike to shrug, but the man merely turned and walked away. Zack hoped he intended to give him a hand with the necessary duties, but if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be the first time Zack had found himself facing an unpleasant duty alone.

Walking outside, Zack went to the body and frowned. The man had bled to death from injuries to the head, and from the looks of the body, it appeared to have taken place the better part of a month ago. That would have put it at the early part of May, and he found it hard to identify the man’s features. It was this reason, and the overwhelming stench, that caused Zack to forego hauling the man into Uniontown. Death was neither welcoming in sight nor smell, and in this case the latter was far more oppressive than the first. Reaching a hand inside the man’s pockets, Zack came up empty. Whoever had done the man in had robbed him, as well.

“I found this here shovel,” Pike announced. “There’s a plot of ground round back of the pelt shed that looks to have been part of a garden. Guess that’d be our best bet for burying him.”

“All right. You start digging, and I’ll get the body ready,” Zack told Pike.

Pike seemed accepting of this arrangement and took off back in the direction of the shed. Zack shook his head, still puzzled about the entire matter. He wanted very much to return to Laramie with the killer in hand and a confession bubbling from his lips. But there weren’t even enough clues to figure out who might have wanted the stranger dead.

Zack retrieved a sheet from the larger of the two beds and rolled the dead man inside. This helped considerably to cut down on the stench, although everything around him seemed to be saturated with the smell of death. Zack reasoned that it couldn’t be helped, but it didn’t stop his stomach from churning.

Once he had the man wrapped and tied inside the sheet, Zack hoisted the body to his shoulder and made his way past the shed. Pike had already dug a fair-sized hole and stood knee-deep in the dirt.

“You want me to take over?” Zack questioned, sliding the body to the ground.

“Suit yourself. Don’t reckon to dig it full size. We’re gonna lose the sun in another hour and that’ll put us on the trail after dark. Ain’t friendly to be on the road at night in these parts.”

Zack nodded. “Looks deep enough. I guess if we can put some rocks on top of it, we’ll have done our part.”

This met with Pike’s approval and the man half rolled, half stepped from the hole. He ambled over to Zack and helped to take hold of one end of the man while Zack grabbed the other. They lowered the body into the hole, then Zack took up the shovel and began covering it with dirt.

He contemplated all he had seen at the cabin and realized there was nothing more to be done here. He would return to Uniontown and ask questions of the locals. Surely someone would know who the man was and whether or not he had any enemies. If not, then perhaps they would know what had become of Louis Dumas and his daughter.

Later that night, Zack sat down to a bowl of watery stew and rockhard biscuits. The only place to get a meal or a room to sleep in was at the Red Slipper Saloon, and while Zack wasn’t given to frequenting bars, he figured it the best place to get some answers.

“I’m Ada. Pike says you buried a man up at the Dumas place,” a woman said frankly as she placed a cup of black coffee in front of Matthews.

“That’s right. I’m here to check into the man’s murder. Did you know him?” Zack sized up the woman, realizing her occupation immediately. She wore a low-cut gown of yellow satin that had obviously seen better days, and more makeup adorned her face than was decent for a woman to wear.

“Well, from the description Pike gave, I’d say it would have to be Garvey Davis. He and Dumas did some bartering right before Louis took off. He bought Louis out.”

“Bought him out?” Zack questioned, finally believing he was getting the necessary answers to his questions.

“Louis owned a fair-sized trapline. He also owned that cabin you saw today. He was in here one day and he and Davis played cards. Davis told him about gold in Colorado, and since he was tossing quite a bit of money around, Dumas listened with real interest.”

“You seem to know quite a bit about this whole affair. Would you mind sitting down and telling me the rest?” Zack questioned.

Ada looked around her for a moment. “Seems like everyone is lookin’ out for themselves. Guess I could talk for a spell.” She pulled out the chair and motioned to Zack’s bowl. “You’d best eat up, however. That stuff ain’t hardly fit for man after it gets cold.”

Zack nodded and picked up his spoon. “So Louis Dumas sold his cabin and traplines to Garvey Davis. What about his daughter? Pike says he had a daughter who would have been seventeen or so. Did she go with Dumas?”

Ada laughed. “No. Louis couldn’t see saddlin’ himself with the girl. He sold her to Davis, too.”

Zack had just taken a mouthful of the stew, and at this news spit most of it back out. “What?” he sputtered and coughed. For a moment, he had a hard time getting his breath, and it wasn’t until he managed to swallow down some coffee that he managed to stop coughing. “He sold his daughter?”

“Things ain’t quite as refined up here as they are in the city,” Ada said as though the matter was unimportant. “Simone was the only other white woman in the Uniontown area. Men fancied the way she looked, and I figure Garvey Davis was no exception.”

“But to sell your own child?” Horrified at the idea, Zack could only contemplate what manner of man would strike a deal that included his own flesh and blood.

Ada’s expression told him that she didn’t find the matter at all offensive. “Louis did what he thought best. Both for him and the girl. Weren’t hardly practical that he should drag her over the mountains to Colorado. Simone needed to be gettin’ a husband anyway. She was fullgrowed.”

“But Davis wasn’t a husband, he was a purchaser,” Zack countered.

“Louis figured Simone to be given to Davis in marriage. I don’t much think it mattered to him that the man paid out money for her. Men have been either payin’ or gettin’ paid to take women off other folks’ hands for forever and a day. These parts ain’t likely to see a preacher very often, so most folks just count themselves married.”

Zack shook his head. For all his years growing up on the western frontier, this idea had never been one promoted in his home life. “So Davis and Dumas struck a bargain that included Simone. Then what?”

“Then they rode out of town and headed over to Louis’s cabin. Heard him suggest Davis look everything over—includin’ Simone—before makin’ up his mind. Later Louis returned to Uniontown, said the deed was done, and took a good deal of grief from the menfolk for havin’ sold Simone so cheap.”

Zack’s eyes narrowed. “Dumas and Davis both have their own horses?”

“Sure,” Ada said with a nod.

Zack realized that there had been no sign of a horse at the cabin. Whoever had robbed the dead man had obviously taken his horse and gear, as well. Zack ate in silence for several minutes. Ada had given him the answers to a great many questions in his mind, but that still didn’t answer his concerns about Simone Dumas. Had someone also done her the same harm they’d done Garvey Davis?

“Is anybody else missing from these parts?” Zack finally asked the woman.

“It’s hard to say. Men come and go, and now that spring is upon us, they’ll be goin’ down to Denver or over to Cheyenne or Laramie for supplies and such.”

“What about Simone Dumas?” Zack questioned. He found he was rapidly becoming obsessed with the young woman’s welfare.

“I can’t say what might have happened to Simone. Whoever done Garvey in might have taken her. She’s a handsome woman.” Ada paused as if the truth had cost her considerably. “Then again, she might have done Garvey in herself.”

“What?” Zack wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.

“Hey, Ada,” a man called from the bar, “you gonna talk all night or serve me some whiskey?”

“Be right there, Jake,” she replied, then turned to Zack apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Wait a minute,” Zack said, reaching out to take hold of her arm. “Do you have some reason to believe Simone capable of killing Garvey Davis on her own?”

“Not unless you count bein’ unwillin’ to be sold a reason. ’Course, I have no reason to believe she was unwillin’,” Ada said, smiling. “Now, why don’t you stop worryin’ about business. Maybe we could talk again … later.” She gave him a smile, and Zack was instantly aware of the gaping hole where teeth should have been.

He nodded but said nothing. He knew she intended him to be interested in something more than talk, but he was on a mission to prove himself, and nothing but the truth and Garvey Davis’s killer would put his mind at rest. And if that weren’t enough, Zack knew better than to ever entangle himself with a woman like Ada. His mother hadn’t raised him to take part in immoral activities, whether it helped his investigation or not.

Sitting in silence, Zack finished his meal and contemplated what to do next. He had already secured the bed in the back of the storeroom for his night’s rest, and weariness was setting in. With a yawn, he decided that he might be able to think more clearly after a good night’s sleep. Maybe then he could figure out who had killed Garvey Davis and where Simone Dumas had run off to.

TEN