helping with tough problems, and I have been known to come up with an idea now and then. Strictly between you and me, let's talk turkey.'
Her look was a squint, the squint that had made the wrinkles. She said, just stating a fact, 'So you do think I shot him.'
'I do not. I only realize it's possible. Alma's saying you were both here all afternoon that day doesn't prove anything, because of course she would say that. I admit you would be a damn fool to tell me you shot him if there was the slightest chance that I would pass it on, and I guess you don't know me well enough to be dead sure of me. There are a few people in New York who do, but nobody here does except maybe Harvey. As you know, I can't get to him. If you tell him that I'll give you my word that I'll pass it on to no one, not even Lily, no matter what happens, I think he would tell you to open up.'
'So you're sure I shot him.'
'Damn it, I am not! But I'm hobbled and I've got to know. Don't you see the fix I'm in?'
'Yeah. I see. Well…' She looked around. 'We haven't got a Bible.' She got up and sent her eyes around again, and crossed to a corner where a saddle, not much used, hung on a wooden peg. 'You know about this saddle,' she said.
I nodded. 'A hand-made Quantrell, with silver stirrups and rivets and studs, and you won it at Pendleton in nineteen forty-seven.'
'I sure did. My biggest day, that was.' She cupped her palm over the horn and aimed her eyes at me. 'If I shot that Brodell toad may this saddle mold up and rot and stink and get maggots, so help me God.' She turned to pat the cantle and back to me. 'Is that good enough?'
'I wouldn't ask for any better.' I was on my feet. 'All right, you're out, we cross you off, and it's a job. Tell Harvey I hope I'm as good as he thinks I am. I'll need to be.' I pointed. 'The tobacco is for Mel and the fly swatters are for Pete. I won't wait until they come in because I want to take a look at something. You heard what I said to Alma?'
'Most of it.'
'She was here with you that afternoon? All of it?'
'I've told you, yes.'
'And Gil Haight wasn't here?'
'I've told you, no.'
I started out, turned, and said, 'Still on the saddle.'
'It's still yes and no,' she said.
Chapter 3
If the way I spent the next three hours seems not very brilliant, I haven't made it clear enough how tough the situation was. I went to have a look at the scene of the crime.
The road from Lame Horse to the turnoffs to the Bar JR Ranch and Lily's cabin doesn't stop there. It keeps going for three more miles and stops for good at the Fishtail River, and there, on the right, is Bill Farnham's dude ranch. It's small compared with some, and deluxe compared with almost any-not counting Lily's cabin. Farnham's limit is six dudes at a time, and a few days before Brodell was killed a guy from Spokane had broken an arm and gone home, so now there were only four-Dr and Mrs Amory and the pair from Denver. There was no Mrs Farnham, and for help there was a female cook, a girl who did the house chores, and two wranglers named Bert Magee and Sam Peacock. There were no dude cabins and only one building of any size, a combo of log and frame with ells in the middle and at the ends, taking about half an acre. The barn and corrals were away from the river, beyond a stand of jack pine.
When I stopped the car between a couple of big firs and got out there was no one in sight, and around at the river side of the house, where there were chairs and tables on a carpet of needles, still no one; but when I crossed to the screen door and sang out, 'Anybody home?' a voice told me to come in and I entered. The room was about half the size of the big room in Lily's cabin, and on a rug in the middle of it a woman with red hair was stretched out on her back with her head propped on a stack of cushions. As I approached she tossed a magazine aside, said, 'I recognized your voice,' and patted her mouth for a yawn.
I stopped a polite four paces short and said I hoped I hadn't disturbed a nap. She said no, she did her sleeping at night, and added, 'Don't mind it, please, I'm too lazy to pull down my skirt. I hate pants.' She patted a yawn. 'If you didn't come to see me you're out of luck. They all left at dawn to ford the river and ride up the mountain to try to see some elk, and there's no telling when they'll get back. Are you still-uh, well-trying to get your friend out of jail?'
'Just for something to do. Shall I pull the skirt down?'
'Don't bother. If you came to see me I can't imagine what for, but here I am.'
I smiled down at her to show I appreciated the chitchat. 'Actually, Mrs Amory, I didn't come to see anyone. I only wanted to tell Bill that I'm leaving the car here to go for a look at Blue Grouse Ridge. If he comes before I do, tell him, will you?'
'Of course, but he won't.' She brushed a strand of the red hair back from her temple. 'That's where it happened, isn't it?'
I said yes and turned to go, but turned back to her voice. 'I guess you know I'm the only one here that's rooting for you. They all think he- I forget his name-'
'Greve. Harvey Greve.'
