Deadrock Ogg, Mayor
At dawn's first light Rick and Scotty began the search for the distributor cap and rotor. The boys searched methodically, taking in the area far beyond throwing distance, on the assumption that whoever had taken the two essential parts might have walked a distance away from the jeep before throwing them as far as he could.
"It's not here," Rick said positively.
Now all that remained was the town itself. They walked back to the town, Rick carrying the water bag and Scotty the canteen. At least their water hadn't been dumped.
Scotty paid careful attention to the vehicle tracks in the dust of the road.
"It's pretty clear," he pointed out at last. "Here's where the sedan was parked. And here's where the other vehicle parked. See how this area is scuffed up? They made quite a few trips, carrying something from the side of the vehicle to the rear of the sedan, probably stowing the stuff in the luggage compartment. And, from the tire tracks, I'd say the vehicle from the base was a light truck."
"Like Mac's truck?" Rick asked.
"Maybe. Anyway, whoever it was had to go through the guard gate, and the run might even be chalked up on the board. Not to here, of course, but maybe to Careless Mesa or Dry Spring."
"We can check when we get back," Rick said. "Come on. We'd better take the town apart and see if the rotor and distributor cap are here."
It was midmorning before they gave up the search, and both of them were exhausted.
"Now what?" Rick asked wearily. He had never in his life felt so badly in need of sleep. Except for a few brief catnaps in the jeep, he had been awake continuously for forty-eight tense hours.
Scotty scratched his head. "There are a few buildings we haven't searched yet."
"No, but they wouldn't be in those. If the men were going to leave them here, they'd drop them nearby and not hide them in one of the distant buildings. But I suppose we'd better look, anyway."
"We'd better. I'm fresher than you are. Go stretch out in the hotel lobby and I'll look."
Rick was too tired to argue. He walked into the comparative coolness of the rickety old hotel and found a section of undamaged floor. He removed his shoes, stretched out, and was asleep almost at once. In a short time Scotty joined him after an unsuccessful search.
When Rick woke again it was dark and Scotty was stretched out beside him, sound asleep. He turned over and went to sleep again.
Both boys woke up, stiff and bleary-eyed, as dawn light flooded the hotel. They grinned at each other.
"I must have slept for two days," Rick said.
"Not quite. Just about sixteen hours. But you needed it, and there wasn't anything to do."
"We're okay so long as the water lasts, but then what?" Rick knew without even putting it into words that they could never walk to civilization. Their water would run out and heat exhaustion would get them before they were halfway to anywhere. The base was closest, and it was over thirty miles away, across desert and waterless mountains.
Scotty walked over to what had once been the hotel desk and held up a can. "Want some breakfast?"
Rick was at his side in an instant, examining a can of tomatoes. "Where did you get it?" It was shiny, the label unfaded.
"Down the street. In one of the houses. Someone comes here now and then, I guess. There are blankets, a sleeping bag, and a small supply of food."
Rick's brows knitted. "Shouldn't we have been standing guard?"
"I thought about it," Scotty admitted, "but I figured there wasn't much sense to it. We'd welcome friend or foe at this point. Anyway, I don't think whoever hangs out here is part of the gang."
"Why not?"
"Wouldn't the gang have been at his hide-out instead of here in the hotel? Besides, this looks like a cache for just one man."
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 shaggy 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?"
"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.
"Now, I got a real good idea what game you boys are playin' and it's fine by me. Only don't get into my game. Stay on the base. You mean well, but you could cross me up when it would hurt most. Some day, after we have the one we want, we'll compare notes. Now let's get goin'. You kids are goin' to have a long, long drive. I'm sendin' you home by way of Pahrump Valley."
"It's shorter directly back to the base," Scotty objected.
"Sure. And you'll attract more attention that way. Go through the valley and back to Route 95, and you'll enter from the front gate. Then who'll know you didn't spend the night in Vegas?"
It took only ten minutes to get the parts from Deadrock's jeep, which was parked in a ravine, invisible to anything except a low-flying plane. They said good-by to the "prospector" at the edge of town.
"Got the map in your heads? You won't get lost?" Deadrock asked.
"We'll be fine," Rick assured him.
"All right. Get goin'. And, boys—look out for sidewinders!"