Ground Money by Rex Burns

Very Important, with his ranch telephone number. Wager checked his watch and decided that 10:00 at night was still early enough, but a voice croaky with sleep answered.
    “Tom? This is Gabe Wager. I just got your message—sorry to wake you up.”
    “Gabe? Hey, no problema , man; it’s OK—I’m glad you called. Yeah, I—ah—I went over to see the boys at the Walsenburg rodeo.”
    “How’d they do?”
    “Aw, fine. They had an open go-round, you know, for non-PRCA members, and damned if James didn’t take first place on the broncs. That boy’s got promise, Gabe. He’s a hell of a lot better than I was, his age.”
    “Great. How’d John do?”
    “He earned a little bit of money—a couple of fourths. That ain’t bad; he had some real good competition over there. The Mountain Circuit’s a tough circuit, and ain’t none of them easy.”
    “That’s good to hear, Tommy.” Wager waited, wondering if this was the reason for the Very Important noted on the message.
    “Listen, Gabe, why I wanted to talk with you … ah, what I asked you about, you remember?”
    “Sure. But I haven’t run across anything new yet.”
    “I see. Any idea how long it’s gonna take to find out if there is anything?”
    “It just takes time, Tommy. Why?”
    “Well, I told them I’d come out and visit the ranch in a week or two. I sort of invited myself out, but they said OK. But I thought if you knew something I could talk to them about—you know, show them that I’m interested and all …”
    “Have you said anything about it?”
    “No, not yet. Hell’s bells, it was enough just saying hello after all this time. But it went well. I mean, they really were glad to see their old man. So I figured I’d go out and visit the ranch. Look around and see what kind of setup Johnny’s got for him and Jimmy.”
    “That sounds fine, Tom. Go ahead and do it.”
    “Right, I am. It’s just that maybe there’s something about the ranch—maybe you could find out if there’s some information there, you know?”
    “All right, Tom. I’ll do what I can.”
    “Thanks, Gabe. And I just wanted to let you know that things look pretty good with me and the boys.”
    “I’m glad to hear that. And if anything comes up on Jerry Latta, I’ll let you know.”
    “Right—yeah—I forgot all about him. OK, Gabe. Thanks again.”
    Wager hung up and wondered briefly if Tom’s sons really had been that pleased to see their father. Tom himself seemed too eager to convince both of them it was so. But that part of the problem wasn’t his, and in fact, if he had been Tom, he’d simply hire a lawyer from Ute County to go through public records and see what turned up about the ranch. But he wasn’t Tommy, and the man probably didn’t have that kind of money, anyway. That’s why he had come to Wager. That, and the deep-seated feeling that if you had to deal with the law, it was best to seek out a cop who was a friend because there were a lot of them who weren’t. He took a mouthful of coffee and dialed the WATS operator and told her what number he wanted.
    “Ute County Sheriff”s Office, Deputy Schrantz speaking.”
    “This is Detective Sergeant Wager, Denver Police. I’m trying to get some information about some people who live out your way.”
    “What kind of information, Sergeant Wager?”
    “Any kind of contacts you’ve had with them. It’s a problem of witness credibility.”
    It wasn’t an unfamiliar request. “Who’re you asking about?”
    “Sanchez.” Wager spelled it. “John or James.”
    “Got a Herman Sanchez who gets drunk and gives us some trouble now and then. Runs sheep up on the Uncompahgre.”
    “These two work on the T Bar M ranch.”
    The line was silent. “That’s over near the Dolores, isn’t it? In Old Woman Canyon?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “I haven’t heard anything about them. What’ve you heard?”
    “It’s something that came up in an investigation. I’m just making a routine check.”
    “What