Chapter VII

39

STRANGE FISH

“You don't sound like the same guy.”

“Well, I'm Laudbecken,” the stiff−backed man said.

“Laudbecken was the name given over the telephone,” the sheriff said. “I'm Sheriff Will Clausen. Now what the hell's going on here?”

Will Clausen looked as if he should have been behind a grocery counter instead of sheriff. Which probably meant that he was an excellent sheriff.

Laudbecken said, “When I got back here, they were gone.”

“Who was gone?”

“Let me get it all straight,” Laudbecken said. “I'm an oil lease scout. Independent. I work for myself. I had been up to look over the Stevens leases, and was driving back following a ranch road, and I saw that plane yonder come down and land. So I came over to investigate.”

“Why'd you do that?” Clausen interrupted.

'“Well, shucks, curiosity. I figured the plane must be in trouble or it wouldn't land here. You know how some people are, running after fires? I'm like that about airplanes. Maybe that had something to do with it.”

“All right. You saw the plane land. You ran over to see.”

“I left my car back over the hill yonder, on the ranch road.”

“Okay. You came over here. Then what?”

“I didn't get all the way. It's a good thing I didn't. Because they might have shot me, too.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“They shot a man. They shot him with a rifle. They were talking to him first, and then they shot him.”

“Where's he?”

“Who?”

“The one they shot.”

“Over yonder.”

“Did he come with them?”

“I don't think so. I think he met them.”

“Where did they go?”

“I don't know. They left. They went away while I was gone to telephone you.”