Bounty Hunter (9781101611975) Read Online Free PDF Page B

little hunting when your father’s friend, Mr. Olson, approached me in the cafe.”
    â€œHunting?” Hannah said with a knowing tone. “I’d speculate that in your line of work that has a little bit of a double meaning?”
    â€œYes, ma’am, it does,” he nodded. “But in this case, it was mule deer I was after . . . some for trade . . . some to dry for winter.”
    â€œHeard the stories about you down on the Green River,” she said.
    â€œJustice required . . . justice done,” he said, phrasing his few words in such a way that he hoped to close out the topic.
    â€œHow did you get into this . . . mmmmm . . . line of work, Mr. Cole?”
    â€œI sorta fell into it, Miss Ransdell.”
    â€œHow does one . . . ?” Hannah began.
    â€œWhen one finds that he’s good with a gun, he can find himself on one side of the law or the other.”
    â€œAnd you picked . . .”
    â€œI don’t mind sleeping with one eye open sometimes,” he interrupted. “I just figured that I couldn’t live with having to sleep with
both
of them open.”
    *   *   *
    L ETICIA B LAINE’S ANGER WAS A MERE TRIFLE BY COMPARISON to the rage expressed by Virgil Stocker, and the expletives he used were considerably stronger than “cur.”
    Likewise, Stocker’s facial injuries were of an order of magnitude greater than those endured by Mrs. Blaine. She had suffered under the fist of her attacker, while he had been struck by the butt of a gun. Even the jagged cuts that remained unbandaged would leave a permanent reminder of that night in the mirror of Virgil Stocker.
    As to the question of
why
this happened, Stocker’s opinion coincided with the conventional wisdom. Angry at being fired, Gideon Porter had come for retribution, and things got horribly out of control.
    â€œAnd the women . . . the poor
women
,” Stocker’s wife interjected. She had sat quietly through her husband’s tirade but felt the need to insert her own perspective on that terrible night. “Gideon Porter said that the women were not
supposed
to be hurt, but . . . poor Mary . . . For a man to strike a woman . . . much less shoot her . . . poor Mary Phillips. To watch her . . . writhing . . . writhing on the carpet . . . that terrible expression . . .”
    â€œWhat do you think he meant by saying the women were not
supposed
to be hurt?” Hannah asked.
    By this time, Mrs. Stocker was sobbing uncontrollably, reliving the horror of the deaths of friends with the survivor’s guilt of knowing that of the six, only she remained unscathed—physically.
    â€œShe’s been through
hell
,” Virgil Stocker said, rising to his feet and moving toward his guests in a gesture signifying the end of their visit, with Hannah’s query unanswered. “She’s been through
enough
.”
    â€œMr. Cole,” Stocker said from the doorway as Bladen and Hannah crossed the porch. “I understand that the warrant has language in it that says . . . or at least insinuates . . . ‘dead or alive.’”
    â€œIt does,” Cole nodded.
    â€œI hope you make sure that
none
of that bunch ever again breathes the air of Gallatin County.”
    *   *   *
    â€œ T HERE’S ANOTHER THING YOU SHOULD KNOW,” H ANNAH said as they walked back in the direction of Main Street.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œYou know how my father said those men were his associates?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWell, they were all having dinner at the Blaine home . . . the associates and their wives. My father was supposed to have been there, but he had a meeting.”
    â€œSo he nearly . . .”
    â€œYes, he nearly wound up in the line of fire.