Page 66 of Calder Country

A chill crept through Mason’s body. He lay frozen with horror, staring up at the frame of the empty bunk above his head. To the old man, Piston was no more than a trained dog who, without judgment, would do anything for its master.

“What about those cement soles?” Mason ventured to ask. “What did Piston do to earn those?”

“When he first came here, right after you left, he was terrified. He kept trying to run away. The staff replaced the soles of his boots with concrete to slow him down. I saw an opportunity in the boy. All it took was a bit of kindness to make him mine.”

Mason suppressed a shudder. He, too, in his own way, had been taken in by this coldly evil old man.

“Timbo told me about the reason for Piston’s arrest. I hear he killed a man. What happened?” Mason asked.

“Piston’s sister was a whore, working the streets in Billings. Piston was hanging around, looking out for her. A customer got rough, started slapping her. Piston threw him against a brick wall. I can’t imagine he meant to kill the bastard, but he did, and he wound up here.”

“What happened to the sister?”

“She was gone when the police got there. Her testimony could’ve helped her brother. But she never showed up. Neither did any of the family, if he’s even got one.”

And what about Art Murchison, old man? Did Piston kill him, too, on your order?

Mason knew better than to ask that question. But if he could get proof that Taviani had ordered the killing of Ruby’s father, that should be enough to get the old man retried and put away for murder.

Collecting evidence wouldn’t be easy—especially here, where any of the prisoners or guards, or even the warden, could be in Taviani’s pocket. Talk to the wrong person, and he’d be as good as dead.

“You mentioned that you could still use me,” he said. “How?”

“The same as before—passing on messages, collecting debts, keeping me informed. I’d keep Piston as my bodyguard and enforcer. You’d pick up the slack. It would be a demotion, but you’ve lost the right to be choosy. All right?”

“I guess it’s better than nothing.”

“One more thing.” His tone hardened. “Cross me again, and I’ll turn Piston loose on you—and next time I won’t call him off. I’ll see you in the yard after breakfast.”

The old man’s footsteps faded down the hall. Mason heard the door of his cell open and close. He could probably get out anytime he wanted.

Mason closed his eyes. He was too sore to sleep but he had to try. In the darkness, he could hear the snores and muttered curses of men in their cells, the flushing of a toilet, and the faint jingle of keys as the guard patrolled the floor. The old smells of sweat and tobacco were familiar. It was almost as if he’d never been away.

He thought about Ruby, and how they’d made love. He was doing this for her, Mason reminded himself. But not just for her. He wanted to make a clean break with the past, and this was the only way.

Ruby was the future he wanted. It worried him that Taviani was still determined to find her. He could only hope that she’d found a safe refuge.

* * *

Ruby, still dressed as a boy, had bought a cheap two-seater from a used auto lot in Deer Lodge. It had a crumpled fender, and the front seat was worn through, but the engine started on the first try, a good sign.

After gassing it up, she took the back roads south, cutting around Miles City. She had seen the countryside from the air, so she knew her way. Approaching Blue Moon at sunset, she had a decision to make. Mason had given her the name of his sister, the doctor, whom she could find in town by asking. But it was getting late. The doctor wouldn’t be in her office at this hour. And Ruby had no idea how to find the ranch where she lived with her husband and children. In any case, Ruby wouldn’t want to expose an innocent family to the danger of armed mobsters who might still be looking for her.

She had made deliveries to Mason’s ranch, which lay south of the town. She knew how to find the airstrip and the cave, but she’d never been inside the house or met the elderly mother he’d mentioned in passing.

She could hide in the cave. That struck her as a good idea until she remembered that she would have no water, no food, no heat, and no bathroom facilities. She wouldn’t last more than a few miserable days. She would have to take her chances at the house.

She was still disguised as a boy. Maybe she could ask for work. She didn’t know much about ranching. But she was a good mechanic. Asking to earn her keep would be better than begging for shelter.

Blue Moon was quiet except for the two-story building that appeared to be some kind of restaurant. Lights were on inside. Autos and buggies were pulled up outside. The aromas that drifted on the air made Ruby’s mouth water. She had barely eaten all day. But even though she had money for a meal, stopping could be a dangerous idea. There was no telling who might be inside that place.

She kept driving, switching on the car’s headlamps as the twilight deepened. The countryside had begun to look familiar. She remembered Mason driving her after the plane crash, the dim impression of a hedge surrounding a stately brick house. Ahead, to the left of the road, she could see lighted windows and a broad front porch. This had to be the place.

As she switched off the engine and climbed out of the Model T, a wave of fatigue swept over her. She hadn’t had a decent meal since that breakfast in Glendive, and she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d slept well. She was exhausted. Her vision blurred slightly as she stumbled up the front walk. She cleared her throat, hoping she could make herself sound like a boy.

As she knocked on the door, a hellacious barking came from the other side. Ruby liked dogs, but this one sounded like a monster, waiting to attack and tear her to pieces as soon as the door was opened. But she was too far gone to give up and leave.

Hand shaking, she knocked again. Through the door, she heard a woman’s sharp voice. The barking faded. The door opened.

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