The Desert Moon Mystery by Kay Cleaver Strahan

The morning of the third was biting hot, with that stinging, piercing heat that we have, when we have heat at all, in this high altitude. The sixty mile trip across the deserts to Telko, on a day like this, would be exactly the same as a sixty mile trip through an oven at the right heat for a roast of beef.

Nevertheless, before seven o'clock that morning, every man-jack of a puncher on the place, with all of his trimmings and trappings, including wives, squaws, papooses, children and firearms, had set off in flivvers or on horseback, bound for the celebration, leaving the place hole-empty, as Sam said, when he came into my kitchen with a gallon of cream from the dairy.

He pulled the stool out from under the table, perched on it, and remarked, as cheerfully as if he were reading it off a tombstone, "‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."

I didn't want him bothering me in the kitchen, when I had everything to do, with Belle, Sadie and Goldie gone gadding; but being a woman, normal I hope, I asked him what he meant by that.

"I'm not going to be surprised," he answered, "if we have another visitor, one of these days."

"Nor me either," I said, though much astonished, because it was as if he had read my mind. At that minute I had been worrying about Sadie. She was expecting her baby, before long, and Land only knew what such a trip as she was off taking now, and the celebration to boot, might precipitate. "That fool girl," I went on. "It wouldn't surprise me a bit if this was the death of her-not a bit."

"Pshaw! " Sam said. "What have you found out, Mary?"

"She told me herself, the last of July."

"Yes? I thought all along that she knew."

Since he seemed as sober as an owl, and as serious, I decided that there was no answer to make, and I made none.

"She's off a few weeks, though. I sent a telegram, and got an answer yesterday. It is the fourth of July."

"Sam," I found breath to retort, "one of us is plumb crazy. I think it is you. Do you think it is me?"

"Not to make any bones about it," Sam said, "I have thought, here lately, that every dang soul on the place was only saved from being in the asylum because of the ignorance of the authorities. But, in this case, I think I am sane and certain. I wired the warden of the penitentiary. He said that Daniel Canneziano was to be released on the morning of the fourth of July. Gaby told you the last of July? Probably some time off, for good behavior."

"I wasn't talking about Canneziano," I snapped. "And how did I know you were? I was talking about Sadie's baby."

I dropped into a chair, feeling sort of weakened from the news about Canneziano, and waited with what patience I could for Sam to stop laughing.

"You mark my words," I said, when the laugh had gone down to a silly giggle, over which I could make myself heard, "all these queer actions around here have something to do with that man's release."

"I'll bet you," Sam said. "But blame my soul if I know what to do, about anything."

"I know what I'd do about Canneziano, if he shows up here," I told him.

"Yes, I know. But he is Danny's father, and Danny is going to marry John. After all, money is not much good unless you take it to market. If I could come to a decent agreement with the fellow -- And if he'd take that Gaby with him. I'm dead certain that her hanging around here isn't going to contribute any to John's and Danny's married life -- "

"What do you mean by that, Sam? " Gaby asked the question, walking right into the kitchen. I was all taken aback; but Sam didn't seem to be.