Borden Chantry Read Online Free PDF Page A

had to be somewhere around.
    Chantry glanced left and right. He could see Johnny McCoy, Billy’s father, sitting on the end of the boardwalk near the Corral.
    Chantry suddenly realized the one place he had not asked questions about a murder was the most likely place to start—Time Reardon’s Corral Saloon. The victim, it had been said, had been drunk.
    Reardon, a small man with neatly combed hair and sly, careful eyes stood behind his bar. “How are you, Marshal? What’s on your mind?”
    â€œThere’s been a murder. Tall man, buckskin coat. Have you seen him?”
    â€œHe was in here. Had one drink, then left.”
    â€œI heard he was drunk.”
    â€œDrunk? Him? I doubt it, but if he was he didn’t get it here.”
    â€œYou said you doubted he was drunk…Why?”
    Reardon took a cigar from a box, clipped the end and lighted it. “Wasn’t the type. I’ve been in this business a long time, Marshal, and that man was no drinker. A drink…yes. But drunk? I doubt it.”
    â€œDid you know him?”
    Reardon hesitated…a moment too long. “No, no I did not know him. But I’ll tell you two things about him, Marshal.” He smiled thinly, no smile in his eyes. “You know I always like to help the law. I’ll tell you two things. Whoever he was, he wasn’t running from anything, and he wasn’t hunting anybody. He was a man I’d lay odds on in a gun battle, and he was carrying money.”
    â€œMoney?”
    â€œHe was careful, Marshal, but I saw it. He had a small sack hung inside his waistband on the left side. It had to be gold.”
    â€œHe had only one drink?”
    â€œThat’s all. Paid for it with a quarter…You know my drinks are two for a quarter.” Reardon puffed slowly on his cigar. “I called after him, told him he had another coming and he said to forget it, or give it to somebody who needed it more than he did.”
    â€œWhen I asked if you’d seen him before, you hesitated.”
    â€œDid I? Well, maybe I did. Let me put it this way, Marshal. I had never seen
that
man before, but once I knew somebody who looked very much like him, and if they are related let me suggest you find the killer and find him fast.”
    â€œWhat’s that mean?”
    â€œIt means that
if
that man should be part of the family I am talking about, you have the killer in jail before they come looking. If you don’t they’ll take the town apart, plank by plank, brick by brick.”
    â€œI don’t think we’d let them do it,” Chantry said gently. “There’s some pretty salty boys in this town.”
    â€œYes, there are.” Reardon dusted ash from his cigar. “Marshal, people have said some pretty hard things about me, but I don’t think you ever heard anybody question my nerve.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Chantry agreed, honestly. “I never did.”
    â€œThen understand this. I have a business here, a fair-sized investment in the town, but if those boys come looking I am going to crawl into the nearest hole and pull the hole in after me.”
    â€œWho are they?”
    â€œI’ve said enough, and I pray to the good Lord that I am wrong, but Marshal…find your killer, and find him quick.”
    Chantry thanked Reardon and left.
    What he needed now was a chance to sit down, to think a little. Despite himself, Reardon’s remarks had worried him. That was all he would need, a bunch of hard-nosed riders coming in looking for a murderer. He’d seen such crowds before, and had seen some of the shootings that resulted. Usually the town won, but men died and property was damaged, and it was not the sort of thing he wanted to happen.
    At the Bon-Ton he took a pot of coffee and a cup and went to a seat by the window. He sat down, filled his cup, and leaned back in his chair. All he still had was a tall dead man who had ridden a sorrel