Blood Ties Read Online Free PDF Page B

his eyes and chuckled. They both heard people gathering in the street, and someone was hollering for Marshal Sisty.
    “So, you wanna tell me why that guy back there belongs in an ashtray now?”
    “I don’t think he was human,” Jake said.
    “No shit,” Cole replied dryly. After a long pause he said, “I pieced that together on my own, amigo . But what the hell was he?”
    Jake shook his head. “I have no idea.” He pulled his Peacemaker and stared at it. “It made that werewolf back in Sedalia go up in blue flames, and it turned what they told me was a demon into a tornado of red lights and smoke. But … that? Your guess is as good as mine.”
    “Great,” Cole sighed, holstering his own pistol.
    Jake walked over to the gunshot flanker and grabbed his Officer’s Colt, returning it to his right hip. With a rough yank, he pulled the goggles off the corpse. “Aw, hell.…” he grumbled.
    “Who is it?” Cole asked.
    “Take a look,” Jake replied as he walked over to what was left of Quinn. Wincing at the pain in his shoulder, he gingerly rummaged through the dead assassin’s clothes, trying to keep his fingers out of the ash. He finally found what he was after and pulled out a billfold.
    “You know this guy?” Cole asked, staring down at the flanker at his feet. He’d never seen the man before, but he was obviously Chinese.
    Jake opened Quinn’s billfold, extracted the cash inside as well as four ticket stubs. The money disappeared quickly into his pocket. Payment for my shirt, he thought. His shoulders slumped as he read the tickets. “God damn it.” Jake shook his head, and the knot of fear returned, tightening in his guts.
    “What the hell is going on?” Cole asked, frustrated as he pulled the goggles off another corpse to discover another Chinese assassin.
    Jake held up the ticket stubs. “Central Pacific Line,” he said. “Zeppelin stubs … and they were purchased in San Francisco .”
    Cole pieced it together instantly. “Oh, no,” he moaned.
    Jake walked back to Lumpy’s stall as if the weight of the world pressed down on his shoulders. He grabbed his hat, dusted it off, and set it on his head. Grabbing Lumpy’s bridle, he backed the massive bull out into the middle of the stable.
    As Jake pulled himself up into the saddle, Marshal Sisty stepped into the barn and looked at the bodies lying around. A confused frown spread slowly across her face. Billie Sisty was not what most would call an impressive looking woman. She was a bit shorter than average, thick around the middle, with stocky arms and legs. She kept her hair pulled back tight and usually hidden under a black, short-brimmed hat with a silver band. Rumor had it she used to wrestle steers on the Chisholm Trail. She was more politician than Jake cared for, but Jake respected the hell out of her as a damn fine marshal. She was tough, fair, and knew more than a thing or two about what to do when the shooting started.
    “You boys mind telling me what in tarnation happened here?” she asked in an accent that was pure Texas and downright pissed off. She crossed her arms over her belly.
    Cole moved past Lumpy’s bulk, dodging under the bull’s massive horns, and led his horse Koto out of its stall. With a smooth motion, he slid up into the saddle.
    “Sore losers, Billie,” Jake said tiredly, gently rubbing his wounded shoulder. He didn’t want to get into who his attackers really were. He was tired, grumpy, and the information would be of no use to the marshal. “The four of ’em jumped me on account of this.” Jake pulled out the bag in his vest and dangled it in front of her, the shreds of his shirt falling away from the gleaming, heavily scored brass and dark runes of his clockwork left arm. “It seems they wanted what I won fair and square. You can ask anyone who was in the brewery, if you like.”
    “I’ll do that,” Billie said. It wasn’t suspicion. It was her job, and she took it seriously. “I may need to talk