"I'll be back in a few minutes," I told him. "Meet me outside and we'll get started. It's a long walk."
I went to fetch some more water and came back to find Sam stroking Valour's neck. "Ready?" I asked.
He nodded, and after checking that I'd left nothing behind, we set off.
By the time we'd reached the outskirts of the ranch, the sky had turned cloudy and threatened to rain. Sam and I walked together. I hoped the journey would let him open up, but he was still weak and in pain, and spoke rarely. We'd stopped every hour at first, to let him rest, but when it became too much for him to walk, he rode Valour.
The journey still took a few hours longer than I'd expected and I was looking forward to good food and some sleep in an actual bed. Sam had told me that the owner was a widow of about forty, who had often let him sleep there throughout the six months he'd been looking into his father's murder.
"Let me do the talking," Sam said. "She'll want us to work in return for a bed and meal."
"Hopefully that work will wait until the morning, when my belly is full and my eyes no longer heavy," I said. "Hell, if I can get a bath into the deal, then I'd happily do any job that needs doing."
"Don't let her hear you say that," Sam said. "She'll hold you to it."
I smiled. "Sam, if there's one thing I've learnt, it's that no matter how hard the work, a bath, food and a good bed make those memories fade pretty damn fast."
The conversation came to an abrupt end when we reached the entrance to the ranch. Ranches were normally abuzz with activity, people working hard at all hours of the day and night. And the sun was still high in the sky. The ranch should have been full of people going about their daily work, but it was barren of any kind of life. I suddenly had a very unpleasant feeling in my stomach.
"Get down," I said to Sam.
He dismounted and then led Valour behind me as we walked onto the ranch. I considered carrying the Winchester rifle outright, but if anyone was watching I didn't want to show them any weapons. Just in case they had itchy trigger fingers.
I scanned all around, taking in the large barn to my right, and another to my far left. Several small buildings sat together near the barn furthest from me. They were probably houses for the full-time workers. A somewhat larger building sat nearby them, the door open and a bar clearly visible inside. The owners certainly took care of their employees.
"How many people work here?" I asked.
Sam shrugged. "Thirty or so," he said. "A lot of people seem to come and go."
"What was the owner's name again?"
"Victoria Warren," Sam said. "What do you think happened here?"
I took the reins from Sam and tied Valour to the nearest hitching post, leaving her to drink from the trough that sat under it. "The cattle are still here," I said pointing to the cows in the distant fields at one end of the ranch. "A rancher wouldn't leave their livelihood behind."
I removed the Winchester rifle from the holster on Valour's side and made sure it was loaded, before turning to Sam. "Is that revolver working?"
"Loaded, too."
"Good. Come with me, stay close." The weight of the two silver daggers on the small of my back was suddenly noticeable to me, as Sam and I walked toward the main house.
The building was huge, and would have hundreds of places for people to hide. "How many lived in here?" I asked as I ascended the steps to the porch and peered through the frosted windows of the wood-framed, white front door.
"Just Missus Warren and her servants," he said. "There was a cook, two maids and a butler. She said it took a lot of people to make the house run. She let the workers eat Sunday dinner in there."
I tried the brass door handle, and turned it with a soft creak, before pushing open the door. Silence stayed with me as I stepped into the mansion, followed by a hastily moving Sam.
Nothing appeared to have been disturbed. Paintings were still on the walls, the ornaments-a mixture of vases and brass figurines-were scattered around the room, and were all immaculate. "See anything missing?" I asked.
Sam looked around. "No," he said with a shake of his head. "But then I rarely spent time in this room."
"How many rooms on this floor?"
"Four. There's this living room, a dining room, along with a kitchen and study."
"You sure?"
"On occasion, I helped the house staff with their work. It was mostly just cleaning, or doing little jobs around the house, but I enjoyed it. Missus Warren had asked me if I'd be interested in staying on."
I opened the only door from the living room and entered a hallway. The wooden floor was polished to a near mirror shine, and tables sat along one wall, all with more ornaments on them. Whoever Mrs. Warren was, she certainly took pride in displaying the many baubles and junk she'd accumulated.
Sam and I made our way down the hallway, opening every door and checking each room when as we reached it. It took a while, but I'd soon come to the conclusion that nothing was to be found on the ground floor. "How many rooms upstairs?" I asked.
"Six," Sam said after another moment's thought. "All but one are bedrooms, the last is a large bathroom."
"Okay, same as before. I'll go in front, we go room to room. You keep that revolver at the floor."
"What do you think happened to everyone?" Sam asked, fear encasing every word he spoke, as we were about to make our way up the stairs.
"Nothing good," I said, since there was little point in lying to him. Whole ranches full of people don't just get up and leave without taking anything with them.
We ascended the stairs and searched each of the rooms in turn, without finding anything to suggest something untoward had happened. The only evidence of anything, beyond the missing people, was a broken vase in the master bedroom and the bed covers had been strung around the room, as if thrown aside with some force.
We were about to make our way back downstairs, when I noticed something weird on the outside of one of the master bedroom's windows. Five little piles of darkness were pressed against the glass.
I walked over and opened the window, reaching around to the outside to touch the dark substance that stained the glass.
"What is it?" Sam asked.
"Dirt," I said, rubbing it between my thumb and forefinger. I glanced up at the window again, and realised what the pattern was. "It's a footprint. Someone had their bare foot up against the window."
I moved back to the window and stuck my head out, looking down at the porch roof beneath me, and then up at the overhanging roof above my head, where a small portion of beam was visible. Just enough for a hand hold. "Someone was out here," I said. "Recently, too. There's no way a woman who keeps her house this tidy would leave dirt marks on a window this easy to clean."
I pushed the window open as far it could go, and then climbed up onto the window sill.
"I'll meet you by the front door," I said to Sam, before lowering myself onto the porch roof. It was as sturdy as it looked, made by someone who knew what they were doing.
There was more dirt on the wooden roof here and there as it had fallen from someone's feet. I continued to search for anything to tell us where the inhabitants were, until Sam appeared in the yard below.
"Where would people go if there was trouble?" I asked as I looked down on him.
Sam pointed to one of the two barns, the one that had been to our right as we entered the ranch. "That's where the horses are kept. If there was trouble, they'd either use them to get away or lock themselves inside. There are huge wooden bars which slot across the front and back doors."
"Okay, let's go," I said, and the second Sam turned to head toward the barn, I stepped off the porch roof and used a small measure of air magic to ensure I landed softly on the ground. The pale white glyphs vanished before Sam turned back, a quizzical look on his face, probably wondering how it was that I made no sound on landing.