Thirty-Four
Lawson’s Ridge
Wednesday
Something niggled Carter about the Cutters and needed more information. He rose at sunup and, after speaking to Bowman, made his way to the small cabin where Ms. Cutter lived with her son, Branch. The woman apparently had a small office at the front where she worked on the payroll. She would prepare all the checks and pass them over to Bowman to pay the seasonal hands and, once the rancher signed off on the payroll, she’d transfer the month’s pay into the other hands’ bank accounts.
He’d hoped to find mother and son both eating breakfast. He knew that the hands all started very early in the morning. He hadn’t eaten himself yet, preferring to eat his breakfast at eight, along with the others. No doubt that would change when Rhett started a new position in Black Rock Falls. Carter scratched his head. He couldn’t understand why a wealthy man with a huge spread didn’t want to become involved. To him it seemed like the dream job of a lifetime. Fresh air and views that went on forever seemed mighty fine to him.
He climbed the porch steps of the Cutters’ cabin and knocked on the door. The door flew open and a man with dark hair hanging over his collar stared at him with intense deep brown eyes. He wore an old T-shirt, tight Wranglers, and cowboy boots worn down at the heels. Carter allowed his jacket to fall open to display his shoulder holster. If this young man wanted trouble, he needed to press his advantage from the get-go. “Morning. Branch? I’m Special Agent Ty Carter. I would like a word with you and your mother if you have a moment.”
“I know who you are.” Branch stood in the doorway glaring at him. “We already told the other deputies that we don’t know nothing about that girl buried in the cattle grave. Did some SOB tell you we did?”
Surprised by his aggression, Carter stood his ground and met his gaze. “The thing is, Branch, no one on this spread seems to know anything about what’s going on around here. Everyone is deaf, dumb, and blind. The problem with that is, it means we need to interview everyone. You have lived here since Rhett’s father was alive, so you might have some information that would be helpful to us. Do you mind if I come inside, rather than speaking to you here where everyone can see us?”
“Ma, there’s an FBI agent out here wanting to come in and have a word with you.” Branch turned and sneered at Carter. “We’re not obliged to speak to him or invite him into the house. I know my rights.”
“I guess you better let him in.” A skinny woman with blonde hair and blue eyes peered from behind him. “How many times have I told you that you attract more bees with honey than vinegar?” She peered at Carter. “I’ve just brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Why don’t you come in and say your piece while I make breakfast?”
Carter tipped up his cowboy hat and offered her his best smile. “That’s mighty kind of you, ma’am.” He stepped inside the front door and followed her along a hallway and into a kitchen. Behind him Branch’s steel-tipped cowboy boots tapped on the wooden floors.
He took a seat with his back against the wall, not trusting either of them. Jenna hadn’t asked him to interview this pair and he’d gotten up too early to mention it to the others. In fact, no one knew he was there. It was a rookie mistake, but he’d noticed that none of the hands carried sidearms. He waited for Ms. Cutter to pour him a cup of coffee and leveled his gaze on Branch. “Do you know Marie Reyes or Zoe Carpenter?”
“Yeah, I’ve run into Zoe a few times.” Branch added the fixings to his coffee. “She worked hard. Some of the other women mentioned that she vanished the other night. Has she turned up yet?”
Carter ignored his question. “And Marie Reyes, the young woman buried alive in the cattle grave. Surely you would have met her at one time or another?”
“Can’t say that I did.” Branch sipped his coffee. “Do you have any idea how many seasonal workers come and go here weekly? You’d be surprised how many of them don’t make a month. Some of them leave and don’t even bother to collect their pay. I can’t think of a reason for this because the pay here is the best in town.”
Nodding, Carter took a sip of the coffee, finding the rich flavor extremely good. “How would you know about them leaving without collecting their pay?”
“Ma is the pay clerk. She tells me things.” Branch looked at his mother, who turned and slid a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. “There’s not much to talk about round here, so when women take off sudden like, it causes gossip.”
“Can I offer you a plate?” Ms. Cutter turned to look at Carter.
He shook his head. “No thanks, ma’am. Breakfast is waiting for me at the ranch house.” He swung his gaze back to Branch. “What kind of gossip? Were they having problems with the men?”
“Some did, I guess.” Branch shrugged. “We get all types coming through that door during the summer season. Hands are needed for at least three months. So, Bowman takes whoever he can. If they cause a problem, he fires them. Most times with the women it’s just trash talking.”
Carter placed his cup on the table. “Do you recall if either of the women were subjected to this trash talking?”
“Nope. Neither of them came to speak to me, but I’m not the person they’d put in a complaint to. It’s usually the leading hand in whatever section they’re working. I’m a wrangler, not one of the bosses.”
Thinking through his questions, Carter paused for a beat. “Do you drive any of the machinery? Have you ever dug a hole to bury dead cattle?”
“Sure, many a time.” Branch smiled. “But not the one they found that young woman in.”
Carter nodded. “Do you know who did?”
“Nope.” Branch opened his hands. “Like I said, I’m a wrangler. I work with the horses. I wouldn’t be one of the people called to bury a dead steer.”
Not able to get any further with Branch, Carter turned his attention to his mother. Ms. Cutter sat at the table in silence eating her eggs. “Did your husband ever mention Chris Lawson having concerns about missing women?”
“No, can’t say that he did.” She frowned at him. “It was over twenty years ago. He talked about the ranch but most times I didn’t listen to his complaints. I kind of tuned out, if you know what I mean?”
She seemed to be telling the truth and Carter nodded. “How long have you kept the books for Lawson’s Ridge?”
“Since my husband was the rancher.” Ms. Cutter had been pretty once, but her face had now taken on a hard appearance. He’d seen photographs of her with her husband and they’d made quite a handsome pair.
