The Scarlet Lake Mystery Part 19

Rick had to admit that made sense. "Do you suppose he's here now?"

"I doubt it. I'd have heard a car if one came into town last night. I wasn't sleeping that soundly."

"Well, I'm grateful to him, whoever he is. Let me at that can." Rick searched in his pocket and found his scout knife. He opened the can-opener blade and got to work. In a moment they were taking turns drinking the slightly acid, refreshing juice and pouring whole tomatoes into their mouths.

An amused voice spoke from the doorway. "Looks good."

Standing on the porch was a figure in worn but clean denims and miner's boots. His face was weathered from years in the desert sun. His hair was grizzled where it could be seen under an ancient and disreputable flat-topped, broad-brimmed hat. His eyes, under s.h.a.ggy brows, were a clear, twinkling blue. The man held a rifle; the muzzle pointed unwaveringly at the boys.

"That your jeep in the wash?" he asked.

"That's ours," Scotty affirmed.

"Mislay a few parts?"

"You might say so," Rick agreed. "Who are you?"

"I'm the mayor of Steamboat."

The boys started. "The mayor?" Rick echoed.

"Yep. Likewise the sheriff. As mayor, I welcome you. As sheriff, I want your names and business."

The boys gave their names, then Scotty asked, "How did you get into town? I didn't hear a car."

"Good reason. I didn't drive. Now, what are you doing here?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: _"What are you doing here?" the man demanded_]

"Waiting to be rescued," Rick said on impulse.

"Reckon that can be arranged. You drove in, hey? But you didn't drive into town. Instead, you parked in the wash. Now, as sheriff, I find that mighty interesting. You wouldn't have parked there unless you didn't want to be seen. Only I suspect you were seen, and whoever did the seein' walked off with your distributor cap and rotor. Unless you have 'em, which I doubt. If you had 'em you wouldn't need rescuin'. Correct?"

"You're telling it," Rick replied courteously.

"Yep. Also, you're from Scarlet Lake, and you're nosy. Day before yesterday you got nosy at Careless Mesa and nearly got pinked. Are you busybodies, or have you got a right to snoop?"

Rick stared at the man. He had a strong suspicion they were looking at the mysterious rifleman. Since the man hadn't come into Steamboat by car, he must have come by horseback. The rifleman had departed from Careless Mesa by horseback, too.

Scotty spoke up, in response to the man's question. "You might say we're busybodies. We're curious about everything."

"Uh-uh. Toss me your badges."

Rick's eyes met Scotty's. He shrugged. There was no reason for not complying. Both boys detached their badges and tossed them across the floor. The man picked them up, examined them closely, then tossed them back.

"All right. Come on with me and we'll have some breakfast." He tucked the rifle under his arm, turned, and walked out. As the boys followed, they cast puzzled looks at each other. The man led them to the cache Scotty had found. A saddled horse was standing in front of the house.

"I've seen that horse before," Scotty said. "It was nice of you to wave at me up at Careless Mesa."

The man grinned.

Rick asked bluntly, "Why did you shoot at us?"

Twinkling blue eyes surveyed him. "Didn't. If I'd shot at you I'd have scored a few hits."

"You were warning us off," Scotty said. "Were we getting too close to something?"

The man tilted his hat back and chuckled. "Mighty curious pair, I'd say.

No, son. But if you stayed around, I wouldn't get close to what I wanted to get close to. What's more, I figgered you weren't just tourists. You had a purpose in being at Careless Mesa. Your actions told me that, and I didn't want you there."

"We might have reported the shooting," Rick said carefully. "You could have gotten into trouble. Why didn't you just ask us to leave?"

"That would have brought questions I didn't want to answer. Why didn't you report it?"

That stopped Rick. They might have reported it, if there had been more opportunity to go into detail with John Gordon.

Conversation lapsed. The man filled a coffeepot from a water bag, brought out a propane-powered single-burner camp stove, and started the coffee going.

In a short time a simple breakfast of fruit juice, crackers, cheese, and coffee was ready. Then, as he juggled a hot mug of coffee, Rick said, "We're mighty grateful, sir. But we can't thank you properly when we don't know your name."

The man studied them again, over the lip of his coffee mug. "When did you boys get to Scarlet Lake?"

Rick told him. There was no reason to conceal it.

"Uh-uh. I figgered you were pretty new. Now tell me exactly what happened here last night."

The boys hesitated.

Rick asked, "Are you just being curious?"

"No. I've got a reason, and it's a good one."

Instinct told Rick that the man was more than he seemed, but that he was in no way a thief or law-breaker. Briefly he sketched the events of the previous night without going into the reasons for their own actions.

Scotty filled in a few details.

"All right. I'm Deadrock Ogg. Besides being the mayor and all the other city officials of Steamboat I'm a prospector. Last night I was doin' a little prospectin' and I came up with pay dirt. You saw what happened here. Well, I kind of figgered in advance what was going to happen, and I waited on the turnoff to Pahrump Valley. A sedan went by me pretty fast, but not so fast I didn't get the license number. Mostly because I was lyin' at the roadside waitin', and interested only in that."

"But the sedan traveled without lights."

"Not past the turnoff it didn't. Road's too curvy, and in too much shadow. That's why I was there. I knew they'd have to turn on lights."

It was Rick's turn to give Deadrock Ogg his own question back. "Who are you, Mr. Ogg? Are you a busybody? Or do you have a right to snoop?"

Deadrock Ogg chuckled. "The answer you gave me is good enough. Now, I'm going to lend you a distributor cap and rotor."

"Where are you going to get the parts?" Scotty asked.

"My own jeep. I've got one cached just above here. Now, when you get back to Scarlet Lake, you see Tom Preston right away. You know who he is. Tell him exactly what you told me, and what I told you. And give him the number I'm goin' to write down for you. Then you ask Tom to send a plane back to drop off my cap and rotor. And tell him to send a walkie-talkie, too.