"No cows?" Toby said as they reached the foot of the steps that led up to the long, deep veranda at the front of the house. "Sorry, Scout, no cows," the attorney said. "Lots of ranches round here have cattle, but not us. However, we do have our share of cowboys." He pointed to a cluster of lighted bungalows approximately a hundred twenty yards to the east of the house. "Eighteen wranglers currently live here on the ranch, with their wives if they're married.
A little town of our own, sort of."
"Cowboys," Toby said in the awed tone of voice with which he had spoken of the private graveyard and of the prospect of having a pony. Montana was proving to be as exotic to him as any distant planet in the comic books and science fiction movies he liked. "Real cowboys."
Carolyn Youngblood greeted them at the door and warmly welcomed them.
To be the mother of Paul's children, she must have been his age, fifty, but she looked and acted younger. She wore tight jeans and a decoratively stitched red-and-white Western shirt, revealing the lean, limber figure of an athletic thirty-year-old.
Her snowy hair-cut short in an easy-care gamine style-wasn't brittle, as white hair often was, but thick and soft and lustrous. Her face was far less lined than Paul's, and her skin was silk-smooth. Heather decided that if this was what life in the ranch country of Montana could do for a woman, she could overcome any aversion to the unnervingly large open spaces, to the immensity of the night, to the.spookiness of the woods, and even to the novel experience of having four corpses interred in a far corner of her backyard.
After dinner, when Jack and Paul were alone for a few minutes in the study, each of them with a glass of port, looking at the many framed photographs of prize-winning horses that nearly covered one of the knottypine walls, the attorney suddenly changed the subject from equestrian bloodlines and quarter-horse champions to Quatermass Ranch.
"I'm sure you folks are going to be happy there, Jack."
"I think so too."
"It's a great place for a boy like Toby to grow up."
"A dog, a pony-it's like a dream come true for him."
"Beautiful land."
"So peaceful compared to L.A. Hell, there's no comparison." Paul opened his mouth to say something, hesitated, and looked instead at the horse photo with which he'd inoken off his colorful account of Ponderosa Pines' racng triumphs. When the attorney did speak, Jack had the feeling that what he said was not what he had been out to say before the hesitation. "And though we aren't spitting-distance neighbors, Jack, I hope we'll be close in other ways, get to know each other well."
"I'd like that." The attorney hesitated again, sipping from his glass of port to cover his indecision.
After tasting his own port, Jack said, "Something wrong, Paul?"
"No, not wrong just What makes you say that?"
"I was a cop for a long time. I have a sort of sixth sense about people holding back something."
"Guess you do. You'll probably be a good businessman when you decide what it is you want to get into."
"So what's up?" Sighing, Paul sat on a corner of his large desk.
"Didn't even know if I should mention this, cause I don't want you to be concerned about it, don't think there's really any reason to be."
"Yes?"
"It was a heart attack killed Ed Fernandez, like I told you. Massive heart attack took him down as sudden and complete as a bullet in the head. Coroner couldn't find anything else, only the heart."
"Coroner? Are you saying an autopsy was performed?"
"Yeah, sure was," Paul said, and sipped his port. Jack was certain that in Montana, as in California, autopsies were not performed every.time someone died especially not when the decedent was a man of Eduardo Fernandez's age and all but certain to have expired of natural causes.
The old man would have been cut open only under special circumstances, primarily if visible trauma indicated the possibility of death at the hands of another. "But you said the coroner couldn't find anything but a damaged heart, no wounds."
Staring at the glimmering surface of the port in his glass, the attorney said, "Ed's body was found across the tbreshold between his kitchen and the back porch, lying on his right side, blocking the door open. He was clutching a shotgun with both hands."
"Ah. Could be suspicious enough circumstances to justify an autopsy.
Or it could be he was just going out to do some hunting."
"Wasn't hunting season."
"You telling me a little poaching is unheard of in these parts, especially when a man's hunting out of season on his own land?"
The attorney shook his head. "Not at all. But Ed wasn't a hunter.
Never had been."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Stan Quartermass was the hunter, and Ed just — inherited the guns. And another odd thing-wasn't just a full magazine in that shotgun. He'd also pumped an extra round into the breach. No hunter with half a brain would traipse around with a shell ready to go. He trips nd falls, he might blow off his own head."
"Doesn't make sense to carry it in the house that way, either."
"Unless," Paul said, "there was some immediate threat."
"You mean, like an intruder or prowler."
"Maybe. Though that's rarer than steak tartare in these parts."
"Any signs of burglary, house ransacked?"
"No. Nothing at all like that."
"Who found the body?"
"Travis Potter, veterinarian from Eagle's Roost.
Which brings up another oddity. June tenth, more than three weeks before he died, Ed took some dead raccoons to Travis, asked him to examine them." The attorney told Jack as much about the raccoons as Eduardo had told Potter, then explained Potter's findings.
"Brain swelling?" Jack asked uneasily. "But no sign of infection, no.disease," Paul reassured him. "Travis asked Ed to keep a lookout for other animals acting peculiar. Then when they talked again, on June seventeenth, he had the feeling Ed had seen something more but was holding out on him."
"Why would he hold out on Potter? Fernandez was the one who got Potter involved in the first place." The attorney shrugged. "Anyway, on the morning of July sixth, Travis was still curious, so he went out to Quartermass Ranch to talk to Ed-and found his body instead. Coroner says Ed had been dead no less than twenty-four hours, probably no more than thirty-six."
Jack paced along the wall of horse photographs and along another wall of bookshelves and then back again. slowly turning the glass of port around in his hand. "So you think-what? Fernandez saw some animal behaving really strangely, doing something that spooked him enough to go load up the shotgun?"
"Maybe."
"Could he have been going outside to shoot this animal because it was acting rabid or crazy in some other way?"
"That's occurred to us, yes. And maybe he was so worked up, so excited, that's what brought on the heart attack." At the study window, Jack stared at the lights of the cowboys' bungalows, which were unable to press back the densely clotted night. He finished the port.
"I assume, from what you've said, Fernandez wasn't a particularly excitable man, not an hysteric."
"The opposite. Ed was about as excitable as a tree stump."
Turning away from the window, Jack said, "So then what could he have seen that would've gotten his heart pumping so hard? How bizarre would an animal have had to be acting-how much of a threat would it have to be seemed-before Fernandez would have worked himself up to a heart attack?"
"There you put your finger on it," the attorney said, finishing his own port.
"Just doesn't make sense."
"Seems like we have a mystery here."
"Fortunate that you were a detective."
"Not me. I was a patrol officer."
"Well, now you've been promoted by circumstances."
Paul got up from the corner of his desk. "Listen, I'm sure there's nothing to be worried about. We know those raccoons weren't diseased… And there's probably a reasonable explanation for what Ed was going to do with that gun. This is peaceful country. Damned if I can see what kind of danger could be out there."
"I suspect you're right," Jack agreed. "I brought it up only because… well, it seemed odd. I thought if you did see something peculiar, you ought to know not just to dismiss it. Call Travis. Or me." Jack put his empty glass on the desk beside Paul's.
Y'll do that. Meanwhile I'd appreciate if you didn't — mention this to Heather. We've had a real bad year down there in L.A. This is a new start for us in a lot of ways, and I don't want a shadow on it.
We're a little shaky. We need this to work, need to stay positive."
That's why I chose this moment to tell you."
"Thanks, Paul."
"And don't you worry about it."
"I won't."
"Cause I'm sure there's nothing to it. Just one of life's many little mysteries. People new to this country sometimes get the heebie jeebies cause of all the ope space, the wilderness. I don't mean to get you on edge "Don't worry," Jack assured him. "After you've played bullet billiards with some of the crazies loose in L A there's nothing any raccoon can do to spoil your