Dusty Books, Frontier LibrarianR.T. Carr, Editor Chapter 16Text of the letter... A man of property takes time to reflect... The Cabin... Clues found... Packing iron and taking good advice (for a change)... The Letter
I didn't know what to make of this little complication, but he knew me pretty well. I was intrigued and decided that I would close early in the day tomorrow and head on out to the cabin. I had a map and a key, which appeared to be for a padlock. I decided to survey my new land and see what I could see about this little conundrum. I hired a rig from a stable just down the street, and made it out to the property just after 1pm. The land was all dry, with a few bushes burned up by the sun. There was a little draw though which water actually might run when rain came. Just over a rise, in a little protected valley, was a little cabin. I was a man of property, but not too much property. But I figured it would be protected from the weather cozy in the cold winter, that would come up to us in the high desert, and it also looked solid enough to hold together, not a ramshackle shack. The padlock was on a hasp on the front and only door. The key turned easily. I realized that presumably Dennison was the last person to enter it before me, and I did feel a little chill at first. But I felt as welcome as if Dennison was still alive I decided in a few minutes. If there is an afterlife,and the departed can lend their feelings to a place, he managed to make me feel welcome to my new home. Hard to believe that all these years I have lived in what amounted to spare rooms in my various libraries. I had never owned my own home. Now that I was a man of property and means, I vowed to be a good steward to Dennison's money. Luckily for me it would work out to my advantage in the unexpected events that were to follow. I was in total darkness, since the door had slammed shut behind me. I stood at the door holding it open, while I peered in. There was a window, shuttered, at the back of the cabin. It was a basic rectangle with room enough for a cot under the window. On a little desk was an oil lamp, with a box of matches next to it. It was small enough for me to reach over and pick up the matches. I let the door shut behind me, and fired up a match which sputtered a bit, but I was able to lift the glass and fire up the wick. I put the globe over the wick and adjusted the light. I then almost immediately found the shutters opened easily and let in a perfectly adequate light. I blew out the lamp from the top of it, since I didn't need it any longer, and waste not, want not! It was not as dusty as I expected it would be, after all it was 30 days since the previous owner had been inside. Good testimony to the soundness of the construction. The fact that there was no wildlife was another indication. Of course he ate his food in town, presumably, so thewre wouldn't be much to draw critters. The chair at the desk looked strong enough, and I put it to the test, not in any hurry, soaking in the place. It creaked only a might, and was quite adequate. I was home and it felt, well, good, is the only word that came to mind. His was a compact existence. There was a shelf above the window. This seemed to be little else than the books he mentioned in the letter. His clothes such as they were, were in a trunk at the foot of the bed. It had stickers from ports of call all over the world. Was it from his travels or someone else's? When I opened it a little later there was a label saying that this trunk belonged to Mandini the Great, conjurer to the crowned heads of Europe. I knew it wasn't Dennison's. He didn't like magic or magician's, I had learned some time ago. A few odd clothes were on hooks about the cabin, on one of them a familiar looking winter style jacket. There was some other clothing there and in the case that I had never seen him wear in my presence. A few hats were hung over the jackets. Over to the right was a curtain, which was hiding a few shelves that ended up having some really interesting things on them. On the left was a pot bellied stove, and a small supply of wood for it. An obviously well used coffee pot was on the top, thankfully dry. There were several boxes under the cot which showed me a simple meal could be made here. His water supply was in good strong bottles with corks in the top, no fresh water supply accounted for this was of doing it. Looking at his bookshelves, I spotted the Big Brown Book almost immediately. The others on the shelf were chosen by decoration and filigree, not by subject. I decided to follow my instructions before I accidentally discovered a part of the puzzle out of order. The big brown book had no print on the spine. It looked like a business ledger. There was enough room for a lifetime of entries. I picked it off the shelf, and almost dropped it. It was extremely heavy. I shook it back and forth, confirming that there was something shifting around inside it! I put it down on the desk and turned over about 20 pages to find the book had been cut out inside making a large hollow space. There was a heavy object wrapped in a canvas square. To my surprise it was a new Colt '44 Repeater, with a short barrel and an ebony handle. There was also a box of new ammo with a note wrapped around it.
It was written in the same red wax pencil on my library scratch paper:
You always call em cannons I know you want to look in the books The next clue's in the water, D.
P.S. There's a holster in my trunk for the cannon, Dusty.
Start packing iron, take my advice. D.
Since light was already dwindling, I thought I'd come out again early the next day. He had already stumped me pretty well, I had to check both his water supply and the box it was in and found nothing. I was perplexed, but interested. I decided to give myself and it a rest for the night.
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