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So Glen had given his own account after, denied the accusations that the Sheriff had thrown his way, and the
Deputy, as quiet as he had ever been, just nodded. They would keep going. If he was already out this far, there was no reason not to ride a few hours north and ask Avery Beck themselves.
The sun had already reached its highest point, and was well on its way to making its descent when they finally managed to reach Caspar. Finding Avery Beck, on the other hand, didn't seem like too much of a stretch.
They asked the first person they saw, described him, and they were given about the response that Glen was starting to be afraid of. He lived in town. Claimed to own a ranch, but no one had ever seen it.
Instead, he seemed not to do a whole hell of a lot of anything. Didn't work, per se. The story about him being a drunk, though—in asking four separate people, they'd never seen the man drink to excess.
He was just a strange old man. Kept to himself. They could find him in his room, over the general store. He helped out there, too, sometimes, if they wanted to check.
"I know what this looks like, Deputy. I swear, he presented himself to me as—"
The Deputy cut him off with a look.
"We'll go talk to him. If he goes along with your story, then we'll talk some more. It's looking, though, like there's not much story to tell. An old man told you a tall tale. I'm sorry if you're having a cattle rustling problem—but this is a bigger investigation than I'm prepared to take on by myself. I'll need to talk to the Marshall to see if we can spare the manpower."
"But we'll talk to Avery Beck first?"
"Yessir."
The General store wasn't hard to find. Same as everything in Caspar, it was painted in big red letters. GENERAL SUPPLIES.
They asked the man at the counter, who agreed that yes, Avery Beck lived in the apartment above, and yes, for a law-man it would be fine to go up and see him. Another had just come around asking after him, was this related?
Deputy Barrett said it was.
As easy a time as they had found him, though, Glen realized with a sickening twist in his stomach, they would have a hard time getting his story.
Avery Beck was dead.
Twenty Two
The house was empty without Ada. Without Glen. How she had been managing all this time, Catherine couldn't say. The place seemed empty, lifeless. The steers outside were making a racket, but she had long-since learned to ignore it. She went over her accounts again.
She could afford the next few months, but it was going to be tight now. Before, she had a buffer. A large buffer, even. Even with the expense of the doctor, though, she would make it through. She let that comfort her, as much as it could.
Doctor Connelly had tried to comfort her, but it didn't help the way that he had seemed to hope it would. A part of her, in the back of her mind, had wondered why he had been acting so strange. It didn't take much imagination to believe that he had heard stories about the way that Billy had been cavorting her around.
She shook her head. She was being unfair. Not everyone was out to ruin her, not everyone was being disgusting. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn't keep living her life like this, afraid that one day the facade would collapse. Never able to trust anyone—not even the doctor seeing to her little girl.
If she couldn't trust him with her reputation, how would she be able to trust him with her daughter's life? With the twins? She shook her head. She had to trust him. Had to.
She wanted Glen home again. Wanted some reassurance that everything would be alright. He came into her life like a storm, taking over her thoughts and her feelings. At first it had been as uncomfortable as anything.
Now that he was gone, the absence was more uncomfortably felt than ever, and all she wanted was to have him back. Make up your mind, girl.
She hardened herself. The twins were going to need supper, and she couldn't afford to keep worrying. The thought of the twins going hungry because she was pitying herself helped. The hardness came back, even though she could feel how thin the margin was.
She would be able to make it as long as she needed to. Until then, she would do what she had to do, and that was going to have to be good enough for now.
Glen's legs were sore. It had been a long time since he'd spent this much time on the back of a horse, and time had not been kind to his ability to stay upright without hurting himself.
Still, there was something comforting about being up on the back again. About being out and doing something.
Micah hadn't taken a long time trying to figure out how Avery Beck had died. If his landlord was to be believed, then he had been quiet. Kept to himself. He talked a lot about a ranch he had once, on the rare occasion that he was out of his room over the shop.
No enemies. Nobody would have any reason to hurt him. For that matter, they wouldn't have any reason to see him in his room at all. The last visitor the man had was the Sheriff, and that was the first one in a month. At least, the last one who announced themselves, and the few Avery had were invariably the sort who announced themselves. Not close friends, but people who had to ask where to find the man.
