Higgs merely lifted his chin toward the upstairs. Vera cleared her throat, drawing Bennett’s quick eyes. She pushed back her chair and laid her hands flat on the table on either side of the plate of doughnuts she’d made for the men.
“Coffee?” she said without offering a doughnut. Bennett’s gaze wavered, shifting to the plate. It took an almost visible will for him to shake his head and stiffen his shoulders. He hadn’t removed his hat when he barged in, and he did now. Drum was preternaturally uncomfortable in the company of women. He blocked up like an old bull with a young cow. His hard eyes took on a surprised look that made him seem younger than his years. His nose, broken several times, seemed to collapse a little more, as if the sheer will of his cussedness was the only thing holding it up; his round, fleshy face shimmered briefly, showing a glimpse of a joyful, curious boy who had retreated too soon.
“Where is he?” Drum asked again.
“Hayward?” Higgs asked. Although his voice was neutral, a small muscle in his jaw tightened. He was already tired of Drum Bennett’s questions.
“You know who I’m talking about. Suppose the boy’s up there with the killer, too.” Drum was on the verge of beating the foreman to the floor.
“He didn’t kill your son,” Higgs spoke carefully. “He’s just a farmer.”
Drum wanted to fire this mealymouthed bastard right now, but he didn’t have anyone to put in charge yet. Cullen wasn’t ready, no matter what he thought. Nineteen and still unbroke as the day Drum took him. J.B.’s wife sure hadn’t added any grit to the bloodline. Look how easy it was to convince her to leave and stay gone.
Higgs stood, forcing Drum to look up, another damned irritating thing about the man. “Look, Ry Graver found the bodies and got shot for his trouble. We need to be looking for the killer, not fighting each other. Graver said the shooter sounded young. Good shot, too.”
“What do you mean, ‘bodies’?” Drum tilted his head to study the man.
Higgs looked confused for a minute. “We found an Indian girl with J.B.”
“What Indian girl? What the hell are you saying?”
Higgs ran a hand through his thick gray hair and shook his head. “Don’t make a lick of sense. Didn’t recognize her. Fourteen, sixteen, you know how those women are, growed at twelve.” He described the scene in a few brief sentences, his eyes fixed on Drum.
Drum nodded and searched the man’s face, then let his gaze wander the kitchen. “What else?”
Higgs took his time, glanced at his wife, who lowered the coffeepot to the table. “I can’t figure out why the shooter didn’t finish Graver. Rode off and left him. Kills two, leaves one. Don’t make sense.”
“You’re sure about this man?”
Higgs thought a moment, and then slowly nodded. A fly bumped the window glass over the sink, buzzed angrily.
Drum released a long breath and stretched his neck to the right until it cracked. “Reckon Hayward could come down here?”
“I’ll give a call,” Vera said.
Drum watched Vera’s swaying hips as she left the room and again wondered if J.B. was blind.
“How’s Cullen?” Higgs asked.
Looking around the kitchen, Drum let the question linger in the air. The fly buzzed louder, banging into the glass with tiny bumps hard enough to knock it down to the sill. J.B. hadn’t done so bad for himself. Curtains on the windows, swept floor, lamp chimneys shining clean, wild roses in a vase on the table. His own house was a lot rougher. He and Cullen too tired of a night to do more than eat the bland beans, beef, and stewed fruit on tin plates Stubs served up to the hired men. The smell of those doughnuts clung to the room, made his mouth water. Maybe he should hire Higgs and his wife to come work for him. He glanced at Higgs, standing with his hands braced on the back of the kitchen chair. When their eyes met, Higgs didn’t shy away, as a lesser man would. He held his ground. Drum knew he tended to low-rate other men. The man would have to sharpen his spurs to ride for Drum Bennett, though.
The sound of hurried boots on the porch brought both men’s attention to the kitchen door as Hayward burst through, already trying to assume an authority that sat poorly on his face and shoulders. There was something there, though, a worried expression that flitted across his eyes behind the defiance.
“What do you want?” He stood beside the door, arms folded, leaning stiffly against the wall.
Drum studied the boy he rarely saw. J.B. hadn’t the heart to make a man out of him. Though he and Cullen were brothers, four years apart, this one was a waste of good food. Drum thought briefly of taking him home, too, then stopped. He was already ruint. Fancy shirt, trousers, even his boots showed little wear. Kid had those dark circles under his eyes and pale skin from doing more night work than day jobs.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” Drum asked.
“What’s it to you, old man?” The kid actually sneered and Drum was on him, slapped his face so hard his head banged against the wall. As soon as the boy started for him, Drum slapped him on the other side just as hard, and watched with pleasure as the pale skin flamed with his fingerprints and the kid shook his head to clear it.
When Hayward started for him again, Drum balled his fist and bent his knees, but Higgs caught his arm before he could throw the punch that would’ve broken the boy’s nose.
“Let him be,” Higgs warned.
“I’ll get you!” With tears in his eyes, Hayward glared at his grandfather, turned and yanked open the door, and ran outside.
Drum snorted in laughter. “Kid’s got some gristle after all.”
“He just lost his father,” Vera said in a voice that let him know he’d stepped over the line. The image of the fleeing doughnuts made Drum a little sorry.
“Can’t baby a half-grown boy, make a bottle calf out of him.” He grabbed his hat and put it on, gave the brim a yank, and moved the slide up the stampede strap to his chin. Damn wind always blowing in the hills, trying to take a man’s hat and his thoughts both.
“I’ll be sending a man over in the morning to inventory the place before I decide who to keep on.” He glanced around the kitchen once more. It might work out that he would move over here, run the combined ranches from the more comfortable place, let the boys have the run of the other house, which was so rough they couldn’t do more damage if they tried.
“I don’t think so,” Higgs said.
“What?” Drum tilted his head like he hadn’t heard right.
“You’re not sending anyone over here.” Higgs straightened his shoulders and raised his head so his four extra inches seemed to grow.
Drum chuckled and shook his head. He’d have to fire him now.
“J.B. left a will. Copy’s with the lawyer in Babylon.”
Drum’s stomach churned unpleasantly and sent painful acid-laced food into his mouth. He swallowed and scowled at the other man. “What’s it say?”