Page 73 of Calder Country

Amelia shook her head. “You poor, foolish girl! My son’s got no more sense of responsibility than a tomcat. I raised him to take over this ranch. But he wasn’t interested. First, he got some poor girl pregnant and had to leave town. He stayed away for years. When he came back all he wanted was to make money bootlegging. Now look where he is! Run away, girl, or he’ll break your heart, just like his father broke mine!”

“You’re wrong,” Ruby said. “Mason went back into prison to save me. He’s changed.”

“Nonsense!” Amelia snorted. “Men don’t change—least of all men like my son. He’s disappointed me every day of his adult life.”

“And yet, you love him,” Ruby said. “You’ve never stopped believing in him. I can tell. And I can tell that you worry about him, just as I do. I see the way you wait for the mail and how you jump every time the telephone rings.”

“That’s enough talk for now!” Amelia snapped. “Get back to work. I want those walls clean by tonight.”

Ruby picked up another rag and moved the ladder closer to the front door. “What about that?” She nodded toward the gun rack that was bolted to the wall next to the door. It had brackets for several guns but held only one, a Winchester rifle that looked like the one in Amelia’s photograph.

“Just clean around it,” Amelia said. “And don’t touch the gun. It’s loaded. I’ve kept it there for varmints—coyotes and such, including the human kind. I used to be a deadly shot, though I haven’t fired a gun in years. There was a time when problems could be taken care of with a bullet or two. But these days, the world has grown too civilized.”

She set her tray on the side table, picked up a thick-looking book, and began to read. After a time, her head began to droop. Her eyes closed. The book slipped from her hands, onto her lap. Strange that Amelia would fall asleep when she’d been so alert earlier, Ruby thought. Maybe she should ask Sidney about that tea he was making for her.

The cotton rag she was using was getting the surface dust off the wallpaper. But the pattern, where it hadn’t been covered, was still dingy. It needed more cleaning. Soap could damage the fragile paper. But Ruby remembered, growing up, how a neighbor woman had rubbed her walls with hunks of bread. As she recalled, the bread had done a good job. She would have to ask Sidney for some leftover bread to try.

The dog got up and lumbered over to the foot of the ladder. Ruby had never tried to pet the beast. But at least it seemed to tolerate her now. It looked up at her with clouded eyes. Its white muzzle twitched as it investigated her scent.

“Hello, Brutus,” Ruby said in a friendly voice. “Are you looking for company? Would you let me pet you?” She reached down and put out a hand. Brutus sniffed it, drooling onto her knuckles. When she stroked the huge head, the dog’s tail thumped against the floor.

Suddenly Brutus stiffened and growled. A line of hairs bristled along its back. Ruby stepped off the ladder, moved to the window, and peered out through the glass, remembering the plane, expecting anything.

But it was only the mailman, stopping his Model T to place several envelopes in the roadside mailbox. Maybe one of them was a letter from Mason.

Amelia was still asleep. Not wanting to wake her, Ruby slipped out onto the porch. Keeping the dog inside, she closed the door behind her and hurried down the sidewalk to the opening in the hedge. Fallen leaves crunched under her feet.

By the time Ruby reached the box, the mailman had driven away. From inside the house, she could hear the dog barking. What was wrong with the beast?

She opened the box and took out the mail. None of the pieces looked promising—just bills and advertisements. Shuffling them in her hands, she turned around to walk back to the house. Only then did she see the two men in suits and fedoras, standing on either side of her.

The shorter man was a stranger with a fat, babyish face. He carried a Thompson submachine gun with a 100-round drum magazine. The other, taller man was Leo Colucci.

Pieces of mail fluttered to the ground.

Colucci grinned, showing his yellowed teeth. “We meet again, Ruby. Too bad. We could’ve made a good team, you and me. But now it’s too late. I know you were working with the feds. Nobody gets a free ride after that.”

“So what are you going to do? Kill me?” Ruby knew better than to grovel. That would only goad him.

“Kill you?” Colucci laughed. “That’s a good guess. But first we’re going through that front door to kill everybody in the house, including that damned dog that won’t shut up. And you’re going to watch them die. After that we’ll figure out what to do with you.”

Brutus was barking frantically, lunging at the door from the inside. Ruby remembered the gun on the rack. There’d be no way to get to it before Colucci’s friend sprayed the place with bullets from the deadly submachine gun. The two ranch hands would be out with the cattle at this hour. If the men had any sense, they’d stay away.

“Please,” she begged. “There are just two people in the house. They’re elderly—and they’re harmless. They don’t deserve to die.”

The man with the gun spat in the dirt. Colucci grinned. “Sorry, baby. Leave no witnesses, that’s the rule. Larry, here, will get it over fast. They won’t feel much—at least not for long. But I can’t promise the same for you.”

She could see their late-model auto parked down the road, out of sight from the house. “Just take me with you,” she pleaded. “I’ll go willingly. They won’t have to see you at all.”

“That’s not the way it works, sweetheart,” Colucci said. “I want you to see your friends die before we take care of you. Larry, here, can make it fast or slow. With you, I’m thinking it’ll be slow. Come on, let’s get it over with.”

As they moved up the walk toward the porch, Ruby began to struggle, squirming and kicking. But Colucci’s huge hands manacled her arms behind her back, holding her with an iron grip. He was too big for her, too tall and too strong.

Brutus was still barking and pawing at the door. Colucci swore. “Kill that damned dog, Larry. Just shoot him through the door.”

Larry raised the submachine gun. That was when the scene exploded.

The door flew open. A single shot rang out. Larry dropped the gun and pitched backward with a red hole between his eyes. Brutus leaped at Colucci. As the big man struggled to fend off the dog, Ruby was shoved aside. A second shot, just as deadly as the first, struck Colucci. He spun and collapsed on top of his companion.

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