Go-Ahead Rider Read online

  “Sure thing.”

  Back out at the hitchrail, Rider spoke softly to George.

  “Bean is the man we’re after,” he said. “I know it. The thing is to catch him at it. Get the proof.”

  The two lawmen moved to their mounts and were about to swing into their saddles when a young woman came walking out of a shop just a couple of doors down the street. She had dark brown hair and brown eyes but fair skin. She was wearing a long pink dress and carrying a parasol. George caught himself staring at her and wishing for a gentlemanly way of making himself known to her. He forced himself to look away, and he began fumbling with the reins of his horse. He watched Rider reach up and touch the brim of his black hat. George made a mental note to add a hat to his want list.

  “How do you do, Miss Hunt,” said Rider.

  “I’m feeling fine, Mr. Rider. Thank you,” the lady answered. “It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am it is. I have someone here I’d like for you to meet, Miss Hunt. This is my new deputy, George Tanner.”

  “How do you do, Mr. Tanner,” she said.

  “Uh, just fine. Thank you, ma’am,” George stammered.

  “George,” said Rider, “this is Miss Lee Hunt. She’s taking over the school here next term.”

  “Oh,” said George. “A teacher.”

  “I’m afraid that remains to be seen, Mr. Tanner. This is my first job.”

  “I guess that puts us kind of in the same boat,” said George. “I’m new at my job, too, and I guess I still have to prove myself.”

  Rider swung up into the saddle.

  “George just finished Harvard,” he said. “Classics.”

  “Oh, really?” said Miss Hunt. “That’s wonderful. Perhaps we could get together sometime for a discussion—of the classics.”

  Rider tipped his hat and turned his horse to move on, so George spoke quickly.

  “I’d like that, Miss Hunt,” he said. “Right now I guess I have to get back to business. It’s certainly been a pleasure meeting you.”

  Rider was headed north, but George, as he climbed up into the saddle, saw Beehunter running toward them from the opposite direction.

  “Rider,” he said. “Wait up.”

  Rider stopped his horse and turned in the saddle.

  “What is it?”

  George pointed down the street.

  “Beehunter,” he said.

  Rider turned his horse again and rode to meet the running deputy. There was a hurried conversation in Cherokee, then Beehunter turned to go back down to the capitol building. George rode up alongside Rider.

  “The chief wants to see us, George,” said Rider. “It seems that Mix Hail has disappeared.”

  Chapter Three

  “Rider, Mr. Tanner,” Chief Ross was saying, “I can’t emphasize strongly enough to you how important the presence of Mix Hail is to this particular council meeting. The vote could swing either way, but without Mix here, the pro-railroaders have got a very good chance of swinging it over to their side.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Rider. “I understand that.”

  “I hate to have to put it like that,” Ross continued. “One man ought to be as important as another in the eyes of the law. It shouldn’t matter to you in your capacity as sheriff that Mix is a council member, and it really shouldn’t matter which side of any given political issue the man favors. I know all that. Yet the issue is so crucial in my mind that I have to ask you to give it precedence over anything else on your agenda.”

  “Well, sir,” said Rider, “there’s really not anything else just now that’s too pressing, I guess, and I think we could easily say that a missing council member, especially one as public-minded as old Mix is, calls for some investigation.”

  “I’m glad you agree,” said Ross, standing up and pacing out from behind his massive desk. He walked to the window and stared out over the grounds of the capitol. “Mix wouldn’t miss this meeting unless—unless he was severely incapacitated—or ...”

  “Or dead?” Tanner blurted out. He was sorry as soon as he said it, and he thought that he could feel his face redden. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right, George,” said Rider. “All you done was to just say what we were all of us thinking.”

  The chief had gotten back behind his desk by then, and he put his hands down on the desktop and leaned across it toward Rider.

  “Rider,” he said, “God help me, but I wouldn’t put anything past those railroad agents.”

  “Chief,” said Rider, “old Mix is from up in Delaware District. When Council’s in session, does he still stop over out at his brother’s place?”

  “As far as I know, Rider.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll start looking.”

  The chief gave an approving nod, and Rider stood up and put his hat on.

  “Come on, George,” he said.

  Outside the capitol building, Rider stopped on the steps. He stood for a long moment, staring off at nothing in particular.

  “George,” he said, “you run on back to the office and get us a couple of rifles—just in case. You know where I keep the shells. Get a box of them. Then come on back here.”

  While Tanner was gone, Rider went back inside. He talked to everyone he could find who might have seen Mix Hail. Then he went back outside to talk to his special deputies. They all told him the same thing. When the Council had broken up the day before, Mix Hail had left the building and walked toward the livery where he had left his horse and buggy. No one had actually seen him go into the livery or drive out in his buggy. When George Tanner came back with the rifles, Rider and Tanner walked over to where they had left their horses and mounted up.

  “Let’s ride down to the livery, George,” said Rider.

  In a few minutes they had their horses hitched in front of the livery, and they went inside the big barn. No one was there. Rider walked over to a buggy standing inside and leaned against it.

  “The question’s changed, George,” he said.

  “How’s that?”

  “I was planning on asking the man what time Mix rode out of here yesterday.”

  “Yes, sir?” said George.

  “This here’s old Mix’s buggy, and if I ain’t mistaken, that’s his horse over there.”

  They walked back out into the street just as a man was running toward the barn. When he saw them he slowed to a fast walk.

  “Hey, Rider,” he said. “I was just looking for you.”

  “ ’Siyo,” said Rider. “Curly, this here’s my new deputy, George Tanner. What was you looking for me for?”

  “Somebody tried to break into my place last night,” said Curly. “Come here. Follow me.”

  Curly led the way through the barn to a back door and showed the two lawmen where it looked as if someone had tried unsuccessfully to pry it open. The door was barred from the inside. It had no outside latch. The side of the door itself was splintered about two feet along its edge.

  “I don’t know why they gave it up,” said Curly.

  “Maybe they heard someone coming along and got scared off,” said Rider. “Tell you the truth, I don’t know what we can do about it, but we’ll kind of keep an eye out. Glad you showed this to us. Curly, we come down here to ask you about Mix Hail.”

  “What about him?”

  “That’s his buggy and horse still in there, ain’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you see him at all yesterday after the meeting was over?”

  “Didn’t see him before or after. Never seen him at all yesterday.”

  Rider turned away from Curly, seeming perplexed, then turned back again. Tanner was feeling useless and a little conspicuous.

  “Curly,” said Rider, “didn’t it worry you none when Mix didn’t come by here for his rig after the meeting?”

  “Why should it?” said Curly. “He told me he’d pick them up when the whole session was done.”

  “You sure?”

  “Sur
e I’m sure. Hell, it’s my business.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Curly,” said Rider. “George, come on.”

  They climbed on their horses, and Rider led the way around to the side of Curly’s barn. There he stopped and dismounted again and squatted down on his haunches. Puzzled, Tanner did the same.

  “George,” said Rider, “if Curly ain’t lying, that means that old Mix was staying in town this time—or somewheres close. He ain’t never done that before. He’s always stayed over with his brother out by Fourteen Mile Creek. I’m going to ride on out there to see his brother anyhow. While I’m gone, I want you to check around town. I want to know if anyone saw Mix after the meeting, and I want to know where Mix was staying. Go down to the capitol and get Earl Bob to help you. He talks Cherokee, and he knows all the hotels and boardinghouses and such. I’ll meet you back at the office later.”

  Riding west out of Tahlequah toward Fourteen Mile Creek, Rider went over in his mind what he had already learned. Mix Hail, a respected councilman and family man, who in the past had always stayed with his brother while the Council was meeting in Tahlequah, had come to the capital city for the current session and told Curly he would come back for his rig after it was over. Then, the second day of the session, Mix had failed to show. Mix was the primary opponent on the Council of the railroad interests, whose agents were in town applying pressure wherever they could. There seemed to be two separate puzzles regarding Mix Hail, maybe related, maybe not. Why was Mix not staying at his brother’s this time? And why had Mix not attended the second day of the meeting? Well, he thought, the answers are out there—somewhere. I just got to keep looking. But he knew that time was critical. The chief would do what he could to delay discussion of the railroad question in the Council, but the question could not be put off indefinitely. It would be discussed, and it would be voted upon. Rider had to try to find Mix Hail in a hurry. He hoped that Cholly, Mix’s brother, would be able to shed some light on the whole situation.

  George Tanner walked up to the first of the special deputies he came near. He couldn’t remember which one was Earl Bob. He remembered Beehunter, but he knew that he couldn’t talk to Beehunter.

  “Earl Bob?” he said.

  The deputy pointed with his chin toward another man who was standing on the north side and toward the rear of the building.

  “Wado,” said Tanner, feeling a little foolish. The man must know, he thought, that I can’t talk Cherokee. He walked toward the other one, the one toward whom he had been directed.

  “Earl Bob?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I need your help,” said George, feeling some relief. “Rider wants us to go around town and see if we can find out where Mix Hail’s been staying. And he wants us to see if we can find anyone who saw Mix Hail yesterday evening after the council meeting.”

  “Rider said I should go with you?” said Earl Bob.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. I better go tell the other guys, though.”

  Tanner walked with Earl Bob around to the rear of the building to where Beehunter was standing, and Earl Bob spoke to Beehunter in Cherokee. Beehunter made a brief response, and Earl Bob turned back to Tanner.

  “Beehunter says he knows where old Mix been staying,” he said.

  “He does?”

  “That’s what he says.”

  “Well,” said George, “ask him where.”

  Again Earl Bob and Beehunter held a brief conversation in Cherokee.

  “He said old Mix has got himself a extra girlfriend lately,” said Earl Bob. “She lives in Tahlequah, and that’s where Mix is staying.”

  “Find out who she is,” said George. “We need to talk to her.”

  After another brief exchange in Cherokee, Earl Bob looked at the ground and blew some wind out of his mouth.

  “Well?” said George.

  “Well, I got a name. It’s Josie Wicket.”

  “You know where she lives?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right,” said George. “Let’s go.”

  He had gone four or five steps before he realized that he was walking away alone. He stopped and turned around again to face Earl Bob.

  “Come on,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Beehunter says that Josie won’t talk to you and me. She won’t tell us nothing.”

  Tanner reached up to scratch his head, and he wished that he had a hat on that he would have had to shove it back on his head in order to do that.

  “Well,” he said, “what do we do then? Will she talk to him?”

  “He thinks so.”

  “Tell him to go see her. Talk to her. Find out what he can about where Mix Hail has been, what he’s been doing. Mainly we want to know if that’s where he’s been staying, and we want to know where he went after yesterday’s meeting. When did she see him last? Tell him all that, and then tell him to get right back down here.”

  Beehunter took off, and George wondered what he should do next. If he took Earl Bob and started making the rounds of the hotels and boardinghouses the way Rider had told him to do, there would only be three special deputies left at the capitol. Rider had hired five men to guard the building. Taking one away might be all right, but George didn’t feel as if he had the authority to cut the force down to three. He could go by himself, but he probably wouldn’t get much accomplished. After all, Rider had told him to take Earl Bob along. Rider obviously didn’t think that George could find out much by himself. Maybe he and Earl Bob should just wait there at the capitol for Beehunter to get back and then go out. All at once, George felt foolish. He was glad that he had kept his thoughts to himself. The reason he was supposed to go out with Earl Bob was to find out where Mix Hail had been staying. They had already found that out.

  “Earl Bob,” he said, “you stay here. I’ll be back later to see what Beehunter found out.”

  As Rider pulled up in front of Cholly Hail’s house on Fourteen Mile Creek, the front door of the house opened and Cholly stepped out.

  “’Siyo, Go-Ahead,” he said.

  “ ’Siyo, Cholly. How’s things going with you?”

  “Not too bad. Come on in the house and have a cup of coffee.”

  Rider swung down out of the saddle and hitched his horse to the rail fence.

  “Your missus inside?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I need to talk to you alone,” said Rider.

  “Well, all right.”

  “I just found out, Cholly, that Mix ain’t been staying out here with you. He’s always stayed with you during council sessions before this, ain’t he?”

  “Yeah,” said Cholly. “Up till now.”

  “Anything wrong between you two?”

  “No. Not that I know of. Mix came by when he got in. He ate with us. Then he said that he’d be staying in town this trip. That’s all he said.”

  “He didn’t say where he’d be staying or who he’d be staying with?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  Rider took off his hat and wiped the sweat off his brow with a shirtsleeve. He leaned on the top rail of the fence and looked off toward the creek.

  “Cholly, have you see Mix since then?” he asked.

  “No, I ain’t. Go-Ahead, what’s wrong? Has something happened to Mix? I got a right to know. He’s my brother.”

  “Hell, I know that, Cholly,” said Rider. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t know. Mix didn’t show up this morning. I’m trying to find him. Trying to find out why he didn’t show. That’s all so far.”

  Tanner left his horse at the capitol and started walking down Muskogee Avenue. He hesitated in front of Bean Riley’s Capital Hotel, then went inside.

  “Tanner,” said Riley, “back so soon?”

  “I’m doing a little investigating,” said Tanner. “Last night, after the council meeting, did you see Mix Hail anywhere?”

  “Can’t say I did,” said Riley.

  “Well, thanks,” said Tanner. He stepped back outside, again fe
eling useless and foolish. Was this police work? Would Rider have done anything differently? What would Rider do next if he were here right now? He resumed his walk down the street, but he didn’t go inside any more places. He didn’t question any more citizens. He wondered if he had done the right thing when he had accepted Rider’s offer of a job. He certainly didn’t feel as if he was earning money. He just didn’t know what to do.

  Chapter Four

  Rider was just a few miles outside of Tahlequah when he turned his horse off onto a rocky trail going south. It was barely wide enough for a wagon to pass through, and it was canopied over by the branches of tall oak and walnut trees. The woods were thick with a heavy undergrowth of brush and brambles that extended to the sides of the road. The trees came alive with the scolding chatter of gray squirrels and the songs of cardinals, blue jays, and mockingbirds. Now and then the insistent, overbearing ga ga of a distant crow sounded above the other noises. He rode a couple of miles down this road and stopped in front of a small log cabin. Beside the cabin was a brush arbor. In this arbor an old man sat.

  “Come in,” said the old man, speaking in Cherokee. “I’ve been waiting for you here.”

  Rider dismounted and hitched his horse to a small cottonwood beside the road. Close to the cottonwood was a large tree stump. Rider pulled the Colts out of his waistband and laid them on the stump. Then he walked into the arbor.

  “ ’Siyo, White Tobacco,” he said. “I need your help.”

  “Sit down.”

  The arbor was hung around on all sides with a variety of plants in various stages of drying, and on the ground under the roof were baskets, jugs, crocks, and boxes filled with tobacco, herbs, and other curiosities stashed in disarray. There was a small table in the center and on each side of the table, a chair. White Tobacco sat in one chair, smoking a corncob pipe. Rider sat in the other chair.

  “What’s your trouble?” said White Tobacco.

  “A man is missing,” said Rider. “I have to find him.”

  White Tobacco puffed on his pipe for a long while. Clouds of blue-gray smoke hovered around his head, half concealing his grizzled old visage from Rider’s view. Finally he spoke again.