Read Online Slickrock (Gail McCarthy Mystery) by Laura Crum - Free Book Online
Authors: Laura Crum
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listening to Lonny and Dan talk about team roping horses. Ted added nothing to this conversation.
Ted didn't rope, or rather, he didn't team rope. He roped enough to catch and doctor his cattle when they needed attention and no chutes were handy. But, like many ranch cowboys, he disdained the competitive rodeo sport of team roping, considering it impractical, for dilettante cowboys with no real chores to do.
Lonny, on the other hand, had never been a rancher. Unlike Ted, when Lonny'd owned the pack station he'd kept only the horses and mules. Lonny roped for fun and was a keen competitor, although he was also perfectly capable of roping cattle out in the open, in order to help Ted or some other ranching friend.
We settled ourselves in the cowboy room and were served dinner and beers by a silent Harvey, to the accompaniment of a nonstop conversation about horses. I contributed the occasional question or story, but mostly I just listened.
Dan Jacobi had a knowledge of horses that was wide and deep and eclectic. Though he was primarily known for cowhorses, particularly team roping horses and ranch horses, he appeared willing to deal in any kind of horse, as long as he could make a profit. He talked of buying Thoroughbred horses off the track and selling them to be jumpers; he mentioned buying horses from the livestock auction, destined for the killers, and sorting through them to find which might be suitable pack string and dude horses for Ted.
"And you've been buying those gaited horses, what do you call them?" Ted asked him.
"Pasos. Peruvian Pasos. People with bad backs like 'em. They've got real smooth gaits."
"Where did you say you got them from?" Ted asked.
"South America."
Ted grinned at me. "Old Dan's a real wheeler and dealer."
Well, sure, I thought. Dan was a horse trader. Where you could make a dollar on a horse, there he would go.
Seeming to catch my thought, Dan Jacobi smiled at me. "I was raised by the gypsies, back in Oklahoma," he said. "I grew up buying and selling horses. Sometimes I like it; sometimes I hate it. But it's what I know how to do." He was quiet a moment. "I sure am gonna miss Bill," he said reflectively. "He was a friend. And he knew a hell of a lot about horses."
I nodded sympathetically.
He smiled at me again. "Sure you wouldn't like to move to Oakdale?"
Before I could reply to this sally, Lonny asked Dan a question. "Do you have any idea what was on Bill's mind to make him do a thing like that? Was he sick?"
"Not that I know of," Dan said.
"Maybe it was seeing Blue," Ted interjected.
"Seeing Blue?" I asked.
There were a couple of seconds of quiet. Lonny looked uncomfortable; Dan Jacobi looked impassive. Ted's eyes were sharp with prurient interest. I had the distinct sense all three men knew something I didn't.
"Seeing Blue?" I asked Lonny. "You mean that guy, Blue Winter? What does he have to do with it?"
Lonny looked at the remains of his dinner, then at me. "When Bill's wife left him, she lived with Blue awhile."
"That's right," Ted said. "She left him for Blue. And then she left Blue and went back to Bill. And then she left Bill again."
"I thought you said Bill's wife left him because of his drinking." I was addressing my remarks to Lonny; Ted's gossipy tone got on my nerves.
"She did," Lonny said. "Blue just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I don't think Katie was ever very serious about him. She left him within a year and went back to Bill."
"Blue was pretty broke up about it," Ted said.
"But then she left her husband again?" I asked Lonny.
"That's right. He was drinking a lot."
"What happened to her?"
"She left the country," Dan Jacobi said. "Nobody knows where she went."
"Oh."
"Maybe Blue shot Bill," Ted said. "Over Katie."
I looked at Ted. "You don't like this guy Blue much, do you? And Bill Evans told me he was trying to kill himself."
"Maybe Bill was covering up." Ted said.
"Why would he do that?" I was feeling fairly annoyed at Ted.
Ted didn't rope, or rather, he didn't team rope. He roped enough to catch and doctor his cattle when they needed attention and no chutes were handy. But, like many ranch cowboys, he disdained the competitive rodeo sport of team roping, considering it impractical, for dilettante cowboys with no real chores to do.
Lonny, on the other hand, had never been a rancher. Unlike Ted, when Lonny'd owned the pack station he'd kept only the horses and mules. Lonny roped for fun and was a keen competitor, although he was also perfectly capable of roping cattle out in the open, in order to help Ted or some other ranching friend.
We settled ourselves in the cowboy room and were served dinner and beers by a silent Harvey, to the accompaniment of a nonstop conversation about horses. I contributed the occasional question or story, but mostly I just listened.
Dan Jacobi had a knowledge of horses that was wide and deep and eclectic. Though he was primarily known for cowhorses, particularly team roping horses and ranch horses, he appeared willing to deal in any kind of horse, as long as he could make a profit. He talked of buying Thoroughbred horses off the track and selling them to be jumpers; he mentioned buying horses from the livestock auction, destined for the killers, and sorting through them to find which might be suitable pack string and dude horses for Ted.
"And you've been buying those gaited horses, what do you call them?" Ted asked him.
"Pasos. Peruvian Pasos. People with bad backs like 'em. They've got real smooth gaits."
"Where did you say you got them from?" Ted asked.
"South America."
Ted grinned at me. "Old Dan's a real wheeler and dealer."
Well, sure, I thought. Dan was a horse trader. Where you could make a dollar on a horse, there he would go.
Seeming to catch my thought, Dan Jacobi smiled at me. "I was raised by the gypsies, back in Oklahoma," he said. "I grew up buying and selling horses. Sometimes I like it; sometimes I hate it. But it's what I know how to do." He was quiet a moment. "I sure am gonna miss Bill," he said reflectively. "He was a friend. And he knew a hell of a lot about horses."
I nodded sympathetically.
He smiled at me again. "Sure you wouldn't like to move to Oakdale?"
Before I could reply to this sally, Lonny asked Dan a question. "Do you have any idea what was on Bill's mind to make him do a thing like that? Was he sick?"
"Not that I know of," Dan said.
"Maybe it was seeing Blue," Ted interjected.
"Seeing Blue?" I asked.
There were a couple of seconds of quiet. Lonny looked uncomfortable; Dan Jacobi looked impassive. Ted's eyes were sharp with prurient interest. I had the distinct sense all three men knew something I didn't.
"Seeing Blue?" I asked Lonny. "You mean that guy, Blue Winter? What does he have to do with it?"
Lonny looked at the remains of his dinner, then at me. "When Bill's wife left him, she lived with Blue awhile."
"That's right," Ted said. "She left him for Blue. And then she left Blue and went back to Bill. And then she left Bill again."
"I thought you said Bill's wife left him because of his drinking." I was addressing my remarks to Lonny; Ted's gossipy tone got on my nerves.
"She did," Lonny said. "Blue just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I don't think Katie was ever very serious about him. She left him within a year and went back to Bill."
"Blue was pretty broke up about it," Ted said.
"But then she left her husband again?" I asked Lonny.
"That's right. He was drinking a lot."
"What happened to her?"
"She left the country," Dan Jacobi said. "Nobody knows where she went."
"Oh."
"Maybe Blue shot Bill," Ted said. "Over Katie."
I looked at Ted. "You don't like this guy Blue much, do you? And Bill Evans told me he was trying to kill himself."
"Maybe Bill was covering up." Ted said.
"Why would he do that?" I was feeling fairly annoyed at Ted.
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