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I THE DESERT MOON
MYSTERY
BY KAY CLEAVER STRAHAN
“I’m done with questions,”
Bam said. “Through.
Finished.”
“Just the same,” Hubert
Hand replied, “there are a lot
of answers that are going to
have to be given, sooner or
later. You heard Mrs. Ricker
say that I was Martha’s
father—”
“Never mind that, now,
Hand," Sam interrupted. “I’ve
known, since the first week
you came to the ranch, that
there was, or had been, some
thing between you two. You’d
been her lover, I suppose. Well
—men do. That’s all. I never
went around thinking you, nor
any man, was a plaster saint.
I reckon you deserted her, eh?
And treated her like hell, gen
erally. And she found a refuge
here. And, later, probably,
heard that you were in
trouble, and sent you a letter
and told you to come here.
Put you wise about the chess
racket. Helped you. Made a
refuge for you. Women do.
“I suppose she slipped poor
Martha in, in place of the
child she’d got from the
orphanage—used the same
papers. Well—to keep on re
peating myself, mothers do.
You and she have both lived
straight and acted decent for
the years you’ve been here.
If the two of you want to keep
on living in this hell-hole, and
keep on straight and acting
decent, you’ll get the same
treatment from me you’ve al
ways got. If you are Martha’s
parents, that’s more reason,
not less, for my not wanting
to break up our family here,
or make trouble for either
one of you.”
Hubert Hand pushed back
his chair, got up, and walked
to the window. "By God. but
you’re a white man, Sam! he
said. ‘‘You’re so damn whit#
that you make every one
around you look yellow as sul
phur by contrast.
“You’ve got it doped out
right about Ollie Ricker and
me. She was twelve years
older than I was—I always
felt like that was kind of an
excuse for me. Guess not,
though. She was a good
enough girl until I came along.
Just out of prison, and a§
rotten as two years in prison
can make a kid. That’s pretty
damn rotten. I shouldn’t have
been sent up, that time. Noth
ing but a kid’s trick—grand
row in a dump down on Bar
bary Coast.
• mnthpr \vn.<5 dead. Mv
dad was > a high-hatter. I-Ie
went back on me, cold, after
that. Found my room locked
when I went home. I went
back to Ollie. She kept me
pretty straight for a while. I
ought to have married her,
and I know it, before the kid
was born. But she was so
Jealous that she made life a
living hell for me. I—well, I
wouldn't marry her.
‘‘It was her fault that I got
sent up the second time. She
talked to a girl friend of hers,
an<8 the girl snitched. Up to
that time, I think that Ollie
Ricker talked more than any
living woman. She took a vow,
the day they got me, that she’d
never speak an unnecessary
word again in her life. I’ll say
she’s kept that vow pretty
well. I wish to God I'd taken
the same vow, before I shot
my mouth off about John, the
other day.”
‘‘You don’t think that I did
It, then?” I wished John could
have seemed less eager.
“On the square,” Hubert
answered, ‘‘I don’t see who
else could have done it. That
makes no never minds. I wish
I’d kept my mouth shut, on
account of Sam—”
“Leave me out of it,” Sam
growled, “and forget it. For
get the whole damn thing, if
you can. I’m through. If I
hadn’t been so busy playing
the fool while Martha was
Vague People.
From Baltimore Sun.
The world is full of vague people.
They call you up to ask if you did
not say half past 7 on Thursday
when, as a matter of fact you said
7 on Wednesday. And then, as like
ly as not, they will turn up on the
wrong day.
Vague people know in a general
way where you live and are sure
they can get there. But a few min
utes after the time you expect them
they call from a drug store to say
they are about two miles out of the
way. They describe rather vaguely
the location of the drug store and
- Mkr Has In v.
!1
dying, we could likely have
saved her. We’ll never get any
place with this thing. Nobody
will. Look at us, messing
around with a lot of damn
fool clues, and suspicions, tell
ing one lie to cover another—
like a batch of gossiping old
grannies, while Martha was
lying there, dying. And me
growling and snarling at her
all afternoon. I’m a fool. I’m
a damn sight worse—I’m an
an old fool. A girl got killed
on the Desert Moon Ranch. A
boy killed himself for love of
her. The killer got clean away.
So far as I'm concerned, it is j
going to rest there. I’m closing
the book. Soon as I can. I’ll
sell out the damn place, lock,
stock and barrel.”
‘‘That doesn't go for me,
dad,” John said. “And I think |
you’ll change your mind. I’m
not willing to go on the rest j
of my life with half a dozen
people thinking that I killed
Gabrielle. No sir, not with one
person thinking it. Hubert
Hand seems to be in a sort of
sentimental mood, right now.
How long’s he going to stay
that way? When he gets over
it, what’s he going to do with
the club he has in his hand?
Nothing? Maybe. Depends on
how much he might need some
j cash, sometime in the future.”
Hubert said, “I’m no damn
blackmailer.”
“What did you serve your
second term in prison for?”
“None of your busines.”
“All right.”
_ TT _ 1 J TM 1
iiuiu wii, x u jwu.
It’s up to me to tell things
to-day, and I’m telling them.
It was forgery, all right; but,
like I was much to blame. I’d
just the same, I don’t feel, yet,
gotten in with a rotten crowd,
and—”
“Never mind. Let it go at
that. Here’s another thing,
I dad. Danny honestly believes
! that, someway or other, you
are mixed up in this thing.
We can’t marry, with a thing
like that between us. I guess
j it doesn’t make any difference
in the way we feel toward
1 each other; but it makes a
barrier, just the same, that
will have to come down before
we marry. I haven’t talked it
over, exactly, with Dan, but
| I’m dead certain she feels the
same way I do about it.”
“You think Danny is coming
back here, then?” Hubert
questioned.
“How do you mean?”
“I’m not looking for her to
come back—that’s all.”
“You’re crazy with the heat.
They read a telegram to me,
not an hour ago, saying that
she’d get in on number
Twenty-one Friday afternoon.
“I’ll bet she’s not on it.”
“Say, Hand—”
“Keep your shirt on, John.
We all know that Danny is
innocent of the crime, and
that she is a good little scout
—a lot better than Gaby was,
if not half as charming and
attractive. But—she knows
1 more than she wishes to know.
| She knows more than she’s
going to tell. Maybe more
than she can tell, in safety.
For the love of Mike, folks—
couldn’t you see that she had
some reason for working up
that case against Sam? Cut
ting it out of whole cloth. If
she’d been trying to shield
John, do you think she’d have
used Sam for that purpose?
Not on your life she wouldn’t
have, she’d have pinned it on
me, or Mrs. Ricker, or even on
! Mary. She did try to pin it on
i nu~ j »»
Viuvu
Mrs. Ricker came tottering
into the room. Sam jumped
| to meet her, and helped her
over to his own big chair at
the head of the table.
She leaned forward, her
long black-sleeved arms
stretched straight in front of
her over the white cloth, her
hands clenched into fists.
“For hours,” she said, “I
I there. After that in all probability
I they return to their motor car to
discover that the starter will not
start or they have run out of gas.
Misfortunes of that kind always at
tend vague people, but they do not
I seem to care.
Vague people often hear interest
i ing pieces of gossip. But they can
! not quite recall who told them. And
i then they arc not certain that the
gossip is about the persons whose
names they have atta hed it to.
Then they are always reading
things somewhere, but do not re
member Just where they read them
When, later, you remind them of
what. tN*v have told you, they ex
> nave oeen trying to reach a.
I decision. I have reached it. I
! have come here to confess.”
CHAPTER XXXIII
Another Confession
Before I came to the Desert
Moon—” she began but Hubert
Hand stopped her.
‘ Never mind, Ollie. No need
confessing, as you say, any of
that. Sam knows all about us.
He’d guessed it, or most of it,
years ago. I’ve Just now told
him the rest. It is all right
with him. I mean—he realizes
it’s all long past. He thinks,
as I do, that the best thing we
can do is to forget it; as he
says, keep on living straight
and decent.”
“Do you know all of our
story?” Mrs Ricker lifted her
faded eyes to Sam.
“Enough,” Sam sort of
sighed. “I don’t care about de
tails. All but—I was kind of
wondering what became of the
brown-eyed baby, named Vera,
who the papers from the or
phanage were made out for.”
“I found her a home with
the mother and father of one
of the nurses in the hospital.
They thought that she was
my own child. They loved her,
and were kind to her. Until
she died, during the influenza
epidemic in San Francisco, in
1918, I sent half of my salary
to them, for her, each month.”
“I always knew you were a
good woman,” Sam said. “Now
what do you say we forget it,
let by-gones be by-gones?”
“No,” said Mrs. Ricker
“Martha did not kill Gaby, as
you think she did, Sam. I killed
her.”
Sam dropped his pipe.
There was another of those
dead, awful silences.
“The guilt,” Mrs. Ricker
went on, “is entirely mine. All
of my life I have been cursed
with an abnormal jealousy,
and with the violent temper
that usually accompanies such
jealousy . Martha, you all
know, possessed both of these
traits—a heritage from her
mother—without the balanc
ing power of an adult mind.”
She turned to Hubert Hand.
“Have you told about Nina
Ziegelman?”
“No,” he spoke sharply. “I
wouldn’t, Ollie. No need—”
“But I would,” she said, and
: continued, more rapidly.
“About four months before
Martha was born a woman
named Nina Ziegelman be
trayed us — Hubert and
me. I had given her a
confidence, and she betrayed
it. When I found what she had
done I went to her hotel room
and tried to kill her. I did not
succeed. I shot her; but she
recovered. For many reasons,
of their own, she and her
friends proffered no charges
against me. I went free. But
I had marked Martha for
murder. She was powerless
nrvnlvtnf i 4- • n n rv/Mimvl OOP O C cho
would have been against any
evil physical inheritance. She
can’t be blamed. No one could
dare blame her for that. It
was I, who planted those seeds
of violence, jealousy, hatred,
and murderous intent, who
killed Gabrielle. Martha was
only the helpless instrument.”
I was sorry that there was
eagerness, mixed with the pity
in John’s voice, as he asked,
‘‘Did Martha tell you that she
committed the murder?”
“No. Other parental herit
ages of hers were a lying
tongue, and slyness. She per
sisted in her denials, to me.
But it is all so evident.
“Gabrielle joined Martha at
the rabbit hutch. You know
how one sits down on one’s
heels to peer in at the rabbits
in the low hutch. I think Gaby
must have been squatting, so,
when Martha jumped at her
and overpowered her. Martha
was strong, you know. Her
hands were very strong. You
remember, Mary, how she
could open fruit jars that
neither you nor I could budge?
She had hated Gaby ever
since Gaby had come. Martha
had said to me, dozens of
times, that someday she
thought she would kill Gaby.
“The marks on her throat, I
thought, and so did the
coroner, looked as if she had
been caught by someone who
j had been standing behind
her. Seized unawares, it would
i press intense surprise and are posi
tive they could not possibly have
j told you. that you have confused
I them with somebody else.
As a general rule vague people
! marry people who are not vague.
And then for the rest of their lives
they are called to the telephone in
the midst of interesting parties and
told to come home at once as din
ner has been on the table half an
i hour. But when vague people mar
ry vague people they have no set
hour for meals and instead simply
eat when they are hungry. They
forget to collect the laundry and
send it off, so that they do not
have clean things when they need
m
! not take long to strangle a
person. Martha nust nave
done it in two or three
minutes. She took the bracelet
then, rolled the body under
the clump of berry bushes,
right there, and came straight
into the house.
“She showed no feeling ot
guilt, because she had none.
At that moment, we should
all have suspected something,
j We should have known that
girl would not, suddenly have
given Martha the bracelet.
Later, she told you about it,
didn’t she Sam? And you left
Chad in the barn, to hood
wink Hubert, and came up and
hid the body for her?”
“By God, I did not,” Sam
i said.
“No need to deny it, now,
Sam,” she said. “It was the
deed of a good man. Martha
was never responsible—but
' courts might not have under
I stood. Now we will all shield
her—keep her secret. Chad’s
| confession will satisfy the
world. Danny must know, I
suppose; but no one else need
ever know—”
“But I tell you—” Sam
shouted.
I don’t know how, without
raising her voice, she made
it sound through his shouting,
and silence it, but she did.
“Sam don’t. Why can’t we be
honest, now, among ourselves?
You see, I know that both you
and Martha were on those
stairs when the body was put
there—”
My thoughts jumped out
into words. “Chad must have
known it, too. He must have
decided that he’d rather die
than betray either Sam 01
Martha.”
“He might have thought it,’
Sam said, with a lack of em
phasis that edged stupidity
“He could not have known it
It is not true.”
“Mrs. Ricker,” John ques
tioned, “what makes you think
that dad and Martha had botl?
been on the stairs?”
“Sam’s pipe ashes wer>
strewn about. And there was
an old tatting shuttle, witfc
which I had been trying tc
teach Martha to tat, tha\
morning. She had it in hei
pocket. It must have droppec
out. I think that Mary triec
to clean the pipe ashes away
They were gone when I sav
the body the second time. 1
should have tried to do it, buf
I didn’t think. I had no time
I was frantic with fear.
“Wait,” she answered ou;
looks and our exclamations ol
astonishment. “I will explain
Martha and I, as you know
were alone here in the house
while the rest of you were out
looking for Gaby. Martha was
sleepy. I was worried about
her sleeping so much, and
tried all sorts of ways to keep
her awake until bed time. 1
kept sending her out to look
at the sky, to see whether £
storm was coming to spoil her
fireworks. She would run out
and right in again, to curl or
the davenport and try to sleep
Finally, though, she stayed
outside, for a long time. Bui
for Sam’s pipe ashes, I would
think that then she had man
aged to drag the body upstair!
by herself. Still—though I be
lieve that she did have
strength enough to move the
body, I do not believe that she
would have had wits enough
“When the wind rose, 1
looked first for Martha. I
called her several times before
she answered. Finally she
came around the house from
the direction of the rabbit
hutch, again. Surely, you must
have noticed, as I did, that she
had seemed strangely excited
during all the late afternoon
and early evening. At the time
I I thought it was because she
had been given the monkey
charm, and because she was
to have the fireworks. I
(TO B» CONTINUED)
GEORGIA COW SETS RECORD
Athens, Ga. — (AP) — Yielding
707.42 pounds of butterfat and 15,
490 pounds of milk, Raleigh's Zilla,
Jersey cow owned by J. C. Wool
dridge, has just completed the high
est butterfat production record ever
made by a 12-year-old cow in Geor
gia. Hie test covered a period of
I 265 days.
| them and have to go out and buy
new ones. And their children's
clothes are pathetic and everyone
feels sorry for the children, whose
constitutions are being undermined
through their sitting up until all
hours. But the children rather like
that sort of vagueness.
Vague people are very irritating
and give others any amount of trou
ble. But it is impossible to get an
gry with them, because they are so
good-natured and do almost any
thing for you except give up their
vagueness.
—■ M--—
South Carolina ranks second lr
th* making of oysterf
T
ATS utterly unfair, of course.
But if a man will smoke an out
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Don’t keep potential Iricnds at j
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all there in Sir Walter Raleigh —
as you II discover when you try it.
f So*'
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Customer—“How much does this
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I.ouisvllle Courier-Journal.
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