Treasure of the Anasazi Page 17

  “Like I said, that’s our business and none of yours. Now if you don’t mind, we’ve got things to do.” He intentionally brushed against me as he stepped by to get to the door.

  “Hold on a sec,” I said. “Maybe we can help each other. Do you know if they’re still in town?”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve got a score to settle,” I said.

  “So do I.”

  “I want them because they attacked Ranger Baker. Why do you want them?”

  “They threatened us and tried to hurt Daryl.”

  “Well, if we search together we can cover the town in half the time and find out whether they’re still around. What do you say?”

  Billy stood silent. I could tell he was thinking it over. At least he didn’t reject the idea immediately.

  “Okay, I just want to make sure they get what they deserve. The safety of my brothers is all I’m interested in. I guess I don’t care who gets them. What’d you have in mind?”

  “Let’s step outside,” I suggested. The clerk let out a sigh after we had left and shut the door.

  “Why don’t you and your brothers look around from here to the park and the west side of town, we’ll take the downtown area and the east side. We’ll meet back here in two hours. Okay?”

  “Fine.”

  I held out my hand to shake. He looked at it and walked away.

  Just as we were about to get in our vehicles, Joe pulled up, lights flashing. Rudy and Sam got out of the jeep. Billy had already climbed into his truck alongside of his brothers. I don’t think they were comfortable around the flashing lights or Joe.

  “Well, where are they?” he asked.

  “Already gone. We are just getting ready to go look for them.”

  “Didn’t I tell you not to do anything stupid? If these guys are as dangerous as you said, I think what you’re doing qualifies as idiotic.” Joe realized the Hightowers were sitting in their truck. “Why are they here?”

  “They’re going to help us look for ‘em,” I said.

  “They’re going to do what?” asked Rudy, obviously upset.

  “You guys have teamed up?” asked Joe. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

  “It’s a temporary thing. We’re both looking for them anyway.”

  “Know why they want them?” asked Joe.

  “Billy said Smith and Jones were holding Daryl hostage and threatened to hurt him.”

  “Have any idea where to look?”

  “Not really, so we split up the city.”

  “Before you leave I want to get a statement from Sam about what happened, a description of the men and their truck from all of you. Okay?”

  “Yeah, sure. You won’t need them, will you?” referring to the Hightowers.

  “No, I guess not,” said Joe. I waved the Hightowers on.

  * * *

  “What did you find out?” asked Daryl

  “They already checked out.”

  “Good. Maybe they’re gone for good,” said Daryl, nearly completely recuperated.

  Donny smiled. “I’m glad they’re gone. Now you won’t have to go to jail.”

  * * *

  After giving Joe our statements, he made us promise to let him know if we found Smith and Jones and no heroics. He would contact the city police to help conduct a search. I suggested we pay a visit to Dawson. We still didn’t know why Smith and Jones had been talking with him about real estate. He may know if they’re still around and if they are, where?”

  Sam, Rudy and I pulled up directly in front of Dawson’s office. He had just come out, shut the door and with key-in-hand was preparing to lock the door. Panic came over his face when he saw us. I could read his lips plainly, ‘Not again.” He hurriedly opened the door and went back inside, attempting to close and lock the door, except Rudy reached the door before it closed, putting his foot in the door, then forcefully pushing it open with his shoulder. We followed Rudy inside. Roy stumbled as he back stepped and took a seat behind his desk. Obviously nervous, he sat in silence.

  “Hi, Roy. On your way out?” I asked, being as friendly as I could force myself to be.

  He didn’t respond.

  “We were wondering if you could help us out?”

  He still refused to say anything as he sat with his arms crossed.

  “I think ‘ole Roy’s going to need a little persuasion,” commented Rudy, stepping toward Dawson. Roy unfolded his arms and began to hold them up in defense.

  “What do you want?” he blurted out.

  “Now, that’s better,” said Rudy.

  “When’s the last time you saw your buddies, Smith and Jones?” I asked.

  “They’re clients.”

  “Just answer the question,” demanded Rudy.

  “Earlier today. What’s this all about?”

  “We just want to talk to them. Do you know where we can find them?”

  “They’re staying at a little motel out west of town. You should know that, you were there.”

  “Wrong,” stated Rudy. “They checked out today. Try again.”

  “How am I supposed to know? I’m not their keeper.”

  “Sounds like someone’s getting an attitude,” observed Sam. “Maybe we should get the Sheriff over here.”

  “What for? I haven’t done anything.”

  “But they have. They attacked Ranger Baker here out at the park today, and we know you have something going on with them.”

  “So what? I had lunch with them. They were interested in some property. Guess what? That’s what I do.”

  “You mean they wanted to buy property in the area?” asked Sam.

  Dawson hesitated. I could see he was weighing the consequences before he spoke.

  “Not necessarily.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  He was still hesitant, holding back.

  “Let me explain something to you very clearly,” I stated, leaning down closely, eye to eye. “If we find out that you knew about or had anything to do with the attack on Sam, you can kiss this ‘business’ of yours goodbye. You’ll go straight to jail with both of your buddies.”

  It then dawned on me why he was being so secretive. He had most likely finally realized that these men were not to be messed with or trusted. He may not have known about the attack on Sam, but he definitely knew they were up to no good. He was already guilty by association…and he knew it. Dawson sat still and quietly, but wouldn’t look at us. His head slumped forward, looking at the top of his desk.

  “Well?”

  When he looked up at me, I sensed he wanted to tell us but was reluctant to say anything that would either further incriminate himself or because he was afraid of what they would do to him if he talked.

  “They wanted me to find property that would give them access to the park from the east side.” I looked at Sam and Rudy to see if they were as surprised as I was.

  “Did you find what they were looking for?”

  He nodded ‘yes.’

  “Okay, Roy. Where is this property and are they there now?”

  Again, he held back.

  I decided to try another tact. “Roy, I know you didn’t want anything to happen to Sam, but if we don’t stop them they’re going to hurt someone else, and I think you know that. If that happens, you could be considered an accessory.”

  “What about me?” he finally said, barely above a whisper. “If they find out I told, I’m the one they’ll come after.”

  “If we get them first, you won’t need to worry about that, now will you?” I pointed out.

  He pushed himself and his chair back from the desk. Standing up he said, “I don’t know if they’re still there, but I’ll show you where they went.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Dawson agreed to guide us to the Dugan place, but he would have to ride with us since Smith and Jones had taken his car. He was sure that Smith and Jones were either already there or on their way. I knew this was something that Joe needed to
know. I called from Roy’s office to inform him of the make and model of the car. They had to patch me through to his car radio. He said he would inform the city police and Highway Patrol.

  “Let’s go,” I said. “There’s no telling what no good they’re up to while we stand around here.”

  “I want these guys out of my hair just as badly as you want to catch them. They’ve been a big pain in my keister ever since they came to town.”

  “So why have you been helping them.”

  “Because they didn’t give me a choice.”

  “You always have a choice.”

  He didn’t see it that way, but didn’t feel like arguing, so he dropped the subject. He followed us to my jeep where he sat in the back seat with Rudy. Sam rode shotgun. Rudy and I exchanged glances and nods in the rearview mirror.

  Dawson had described the general area where we would be going. I was already somewhat familiar with that area, having been on every road in the region at least once, but offhand I didn’t recall the Dugan place. As we hit the soft and sandy county roads, I backed off the accelerator just enough to maintain control of the jeep. There was no wind to blow away the dust cloud that grew as it followed behind us. The road had frequent curves at irregular intervals, weaving in and out around the upper reaches of the numerous ravines. About thirty minutes after leaving the highway, Dawson told me to start slowing down. When I did, the dust cloud began to catch up and overtake us, making it hard to see. As the dust dissipated and settled, a shack appeared ahead. Dawson identified it as Dugan’s place. We pulled into the drive, but a gate blocked the way onto the property.

  “This is it,” he announced. “It doesn’t look like they’re here. I don’t see my car.”

  We got out of the jeep and started for the gate.

  “Just a warning, but Hank Dugan, the owner, can be kind of contrary,” said Dawson.

  “We’ll keep that in mind. Just stay with us.”

  Rudy was the first to notice, “This rusty gate’s seen better days. Look at these recent scrapes,” he pointed out, “where the metal is shiny.” The recently cut off lock laid nearby.

  Dawson was backing away. Rudy noticed. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  He stopped. “Nowhere.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  I called out, “Mr. Dugan!” There was no response.

  I pushed the gate open. Dawson knocked on the shack door. There was no answer and no other sounds. The four of us split up to look around. Rudy was the first to see the car parked in back. Dawson cursed as he identified it as his. The front grill and bumper showed substantial damage from being driven into the gate, but appeared to still be drivable.

  “Did Mr. Dugan have a vehicle?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Dawson.

  “Rudy, can you check out that old shed? Maybe Mr. Dugan kept a vehicle of some sort in there.”

  Sam and I continued to look around. I found blood on the ground in front of the shack.

  “Sam, look here.”

  She saw the blood too. “Oh no.” I knew she had already jumped to the same obvious conclusion.

  “We don’t know who or what it’s from yet,” I said. There were drag marks away from the bloody spot. Sam and I followed them together. She stayed a step behind me. I think she anticipated what we would find. At the back of the shack was an area of freshly disturbed soil. Lying on top of the area was an old mongrel dog, growling a warning. Sam had a way with animals. After a few moments of her talking softly to the dog, she was able to coax him off the slight mound. I could guess what we would find. Dawson came over to see what we had discovered and cursed aloud.

  “Should we dig to see who’s in there,” asked Sam, “or leave it for the authorities?”

  “Well, I don’t think there’s any doubt of who’s in there,” I said, “but there’s only one way to know for sure.”

  I grabbed a shovel that was leaning against the shack and carefully began to dig. Only two to three inches below the surface I hit something soft but firm. Cleaning away the loose dirt Rudy and I uncovered an old blanket. Unrolling it we found exactly what we didn’t want to find, the body of an older man.

  Dawson was staring at Dugan’s lifeless body, speechless.

  “Is this Dugan?” I asked.

  Dawson slowly nodded.

  “I just talked to him yesterday,” said Dawson. “I was afraid something like this might happen. This is all my fault.”

  He was right. He felt something was going to go wrong, but didn’t do a thing to stop it. All he was concerned about was himself and getting rid of the two, even if it was only temporarily. Agreeing with him wasn’t going to help though. As far as I knew he wasn’t a bad man, just self-centered looking out after number one. A little compassion would go a long way.

  “You’re wrong,” I said. “Smith and Jones are the only ones responsible for this.”

  “Now what do we do?” asked Sam. “We can’t just leave him here now.”

  “I’m not riding with a dead guy,” said Rudy. “Let the coroner come and get him.”

  “Why don’t we roll him back up and put him back in the ground?” asked Dawson.

  We exchanged looks.

  “It may actually be the best thing to do under the circumstances,” I said, looking to the others for approval. Everyone nodded.

  We placed Mr. Dugan back in the shallow grave and covered him with the loose soil. None of us felt right about it, but what else could we do. There wasn’t a phone in the shack to call from and it wouldn’t have been right to leave him out in the open where critters could get to him.

  “We need to head back to town and inform Joe,” I said. “You suppose Smith and Jones are out there somewhere?” I asked, looking cross country. No one answered.

  Rudy made one final search before we left. “I checked out the shed. There’s an old truck in there. I don’t think it’s been driven for quite awhile though. And there’s a horse corral, but no horse. You don’t suppose they left here on horseback do you?”

  “They didn’t seem the type,” said Sam.

  “That’s an understatement,” commented Rudy.

  “What about the dog?” asked Sam.

  “He’ll be all right. Did you want to take him with us?” I asked.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Can I leave now?” asked Dawson. “I’ll take my car back to town and have it looked at.”

  “Yeah, go ahead, but I imagine Joe’s going to want to talk to you.”

  “You know where my office is.”

  “What about the Hightowers?” I asked Rudy and Sam. “We were supposed to be looking for Smith and Jones together. We told them we’d meet after two hours. Should we let them know what’s going on?”

  “Not as far as I’m concerned,” commented Rudy.

  “You really think they would have told us?” asked Sam. “Besides, we haven’t found Smith and Jones yet, they’re still running loose out there somewhere.”

  “That’s true, but they ought to be told that Smith and Jones are murderers and to watch out.”

  “They’re big boys, I wouldn’t worry about them,” said Rudy.

  * * *

  Smith and Jones were headed west for the eastern border of the Restricted Area at the Mesa Verde Park. Jones walked beside Smith as he rode the old man’s horse. After about a mile Smith convinced Jones to get on with him. Reluctantly, he climbed up with Smith’s help. He didn’t like horses but hated walking across the hot, sandy ground in the heat of the day even worse.

  “You know,” commented Smith, “it’s possible the journal’s pure fiction. Maybe we’re putting too much faith in it.”

  “You’re singing a different tune now. Do you need a reminder? You were just as anxious as I was in the beginning.”

  “I know. I know. It’s just that we’ve been all over this area, and we haven’t seen a trace of anything, except for a pack of wolves. I’m just thinking that maybe it’s time to cut our losses
and get out of this place. Nothing’s gone right since we arrived.”

  “It sounds like you’re losing your nerve. Are you?” asked Jones.

  Smith pulled back on the reins, bringing the horse to a stop. He slowly looked back over his shoulder at his partner and glared, but didn’t say a word. Jones had stepped over the line. No one talked to him that way.

  “Okay,” said Jones. That was as close to an apology he would ever get.

  Smith turned back around and tapped the horse with his heels to start moving again.

  “You know they’re going to come after us when they find the old man,” said Smith.

  “If… they find him.”

  * * *

  “I’ll stay here while you two go and get Joe,” volunteered Rudy.

  “No, I’m not about to leave you here alone with those two somewhere nearby,” said Sam.

  “I didn’t know you cared,” Rudy came back.

  “Shut up, Rudy. You’re not going to accomplish anything by staying here.”

  “What if they come back?” asked Rudy.

  “That’s the point,” said Sam. “There’s nothing you could do alone if they did come back. You’re coming with us.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  We closed the gate back like we had found it. Mr. Dugan was dead and we knew who was responsible, but we didn’t have anything except circumstantial evidence to prove it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The telephone rang at Jack’s cabin.

  “Hello?”

  “Jack?”

  “Yeah. Who’s this?”

  “George.”

  “George! I didn’t recognize your voice. It’s good to hear from you. What can I do for you?”

  “I need to speak with you about something confidential.”

  “Sure thing, George. Go ahead.”

  “Not over the phone. You’re still on a party line aren’t you?”

  “If you’d like, I can go to Rudy’s and call you back from there.”

  “No, that isn’t necessary. Can we meet somewhere?”

  “Why don’t I come on up?”

  “I’ve got a better idea. I haven’t been to Durango for awhile, why don’t you meet me at the airport, say tomorrow morning around 9:00? I’ll be coming in on the Foundations jet.”