THE THOUSAND DOLLAR HUNT: Colt Ryder is Back in Action! by J.T. Brannan Page A
Authors: J.T. Brannan
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well fed, and the pay isn’t too bad, considering.’
But I wasn’t interested in Badrock’s employment practices; I only wanted to know one thing.
‘How did he die?’ I asked.
Badrock paused, sighed, looked out of his picture window and drank some more port before turning back to me. ‘He was trampled to death by a rhino,’ he said.
‘He was what?’ I asked, genuinely surprised; it was hardly what I’d been expecting.
‘Trampled to death by a rhinoceros,’ Badrock said in confirmation. ‘Khuthala, one of our white rhinos from South Africa, five thousand pounds of him. Gored the poor boy too, tragically; the body was a real mess when we found it.’
‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘Hooker loved his animals,’ Badrock said, ‘he had a real interest in them – it was what Groban had noticed back in Albuquerque, why he’d offered him a job. But it made him reckless too, I’m afraid. The young man went out after the park had closed for the night, to explore for himself. But rhinos are territorial animals, and don’t like surprises, especially at night. Hooker never really had a chance.’ Badrock was looking out of the window again, surveying his estate. ‘We didn’t find the body til morning,’ he continued, ‘and by then it was a real mess, believe me. Thanks Heavens it was found before the park opened though, could you imagine that ? If a tourist had found him, we’d have been in the press for all the wrong reasons, believe you me.’
‘Is that why you covered up the death?’ I asked. ‘To avoid the bad publicity?’
‘What was there to cover up?’ the general asked, eyes back on me. ‘By his own account he was homeless and had no family ties, nobody that would miss him, nobody that needed to be informed. He had no identification, and we only had his word for it that Benjamin Hooker was his real name. No social security, no driver’s license, no address, no passport or birth certificate. He was a phantom, a ghost. And so we did what we could, had a proper burial for the kid. There’s an old chapel came with the property, he’s buried in the cemetery there.’
I looked down at the ruby red liquid in my cut crystal glass and took some time to process what I had been told.
The first feeling that came to me was one of failure; the boy was dead, and I would never be able to return him to his girlfriend. He’d been killed tragically, in an accident, then buried alone, a non-person with nobody to miss him.
Except that somebody did miss him.
And how did I have any idea whether Badrock was telling me the truth? If I could prove that the young man was dead, had been killed as Badrock said, then at least I would be able to return to Kayden with some solid information, something that would give her closure.
There was one way to find out.
‘I want to see the body.’
Chapter Six
There was a chapel, just like Badrock had said. It was old and broken down, and stood a hundred yards away from a dilapidated single story home that had once been the primary ranch house, many moons ago.
The site was about a mile from Badrock’s new, colossal mansion house on the bluff, hidden down some tracks in a small ravine, sheltered from the winds that would otherwise come in across the plains. In the days before double glazing and insulation, the location made perfect sense.
I’d traveled there in the back of a hundred thousand dollar Range Rover, Badrock in the back with me while Hatfield rode up front with the driver.
I was amazed by the man’s confidence and composure – here he was sitting within arm’s reach of someone who had just demolished four of his men inside of ten seconds, and it was like he didn’t have a care in the world. I could have been there to kill him for all he knew, and yet he had not even allowed Hatfield to search me; I still had the knife that I’d used to threaten Groban, and I could have sliced Badrock’s neck wide open in a heartbeat.
But I got the impression
But I wasn’t interested in Badrock’s employment practices; I only wanted to know one thing.
‘How did he die?’ I asked.
Badrock paused, sighed, looked out of his picture window and drank some more port before turning back to me. ‘He was trampled to death by a rhino,’ he said.
‘He was what?’ I asked, genuinely surprised; it was hardly what I’d been expecting.
‘Trampled to death by a rhinoceros,’ Badrock said in confirmation. ‘Khuthala, one of our white rhinos from South Africa, five thousand pounds of him. Gored the poor boy too, tragically; the body was a real mess when we found it.’
‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘Hooker loved his animals,’ Badrock said, ‘he had a real interest in them – it was what Groban had noticed back in Albuquerque, why he’d offered him a job. But it made him reckless too, I’m afraid. The young man went out after the park had closed for the night, to explore for himself. But rhinos are territorial animals, and don’t like surprises, especially at night. Hooker never really had a chance.’ Badrock was looking out of the window again, surveying his estate. ‘We didn’t find the body til morning,’ he continued, ‘and by then it was a real mess, believe me. Thanks Heavens it was found before the park opened though, could you imagine that ? If a tourist had found him, we’d have been in the press for all the wrong reasons, believe you me.’
‘Is that why you covered up the death?’ I asked. ‘To avoid the bad publicity?’
‘What was there to cover up?’ the general asked, eyes back on me. ‘By his own account he was homeless and had no family ties, nobody that would miss him, nobody that needed to be informed. He had no identification, and we only had his word for it that Benjamin Hooker was his real name. No social security, no driver’s license, no address, no passport or birth certificate. He was a phantom, a ghost. And so we did what we could, had a proper burial for the kid. There’s an old chapel came with the property, he’s buried in the cemetery there.’
I looked down at the ruby red liquid in my cut crystal glass and took some time to process what I had been told.
The first feeling that came to me was one of failure; the boy was dead, and I would never be able to return him to his girlfriend. He’d been killed tragically, in an accident, then buried alone, a non-person with nobody to miss him.
Except that somebody did miss him.
And how did I have any idea whether Badrock was telling me the truth? If I could prove that the young man was dead, had been killed as Badrock said, then at least I would be able to return to Kayden with some solid information, something that would give her closure.
There was one way to find out.
‘I want to see the body.’
Chapter Six
There was a chapel, just like Badrock had said. It was old and broken down, and stood a hundred yards away from a dilapidated single story home that had once been the primary ranch house, many moons ago.
The site was about a mile from Badrock’s new, colossal mansion house on the bluff, hidden down some tracks in a small ravine, sheltered from the winds that would otherwise come in across the plains. In the days before double glazing and insulation, the location made perfect sense.
I’d traveled there in the back of a hundred thousand dollar Range Rover, Badrock in the back with me while Hatfield rode up front with the driver.
I was amazed by the man’s confidence and composure – here he was sitting within arm’s reach of someone who had just demolished four of his men inside of ten seconds, and it was like he didn’t have a care in the world. I could have been there to kill him for all he knew, and yet he had not even allowed Hatfield to search me; I still had the knife that I’d used to threaten Groban, and I could have sliced Badrock’s neck wide open in a heartbeat.
But I got the impression
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