mind.”
Cumberland grimaced. “Tate can take care of himself most of the time. He just thinks it’s twenty years ago. So I’m not surprised he made it that far. If it’s something he knew how to do back then, he still knows how to do it . . . mostly. His daughter and my sister were friends when the Tates still lived here. Edna gets letters from Bertha now and then. Bertha says her pa’s forgetting more and more things these days, simple things that he used to do all the time.”
Like how to put water in a coffeepot, The Kid thought, suddenly remembering the first night he and Tate had spent on the trail.
“I don’t guess any of that really matters,” Cumberland went on. “He’s here, and there are people like my pa who will look after him until we can figure out what to do with him. Jared Tate is just about the least of my worries right now.”
“With Ahern being the biggest worry?”
“With Ahern’s boss being the biggest worry.”
The Kid didn’t much like Marshal Riley Cumberland, but the bleak look in the marshal’s eyes almost made him feel sorry for the man. He reminded himself that Cumberland would have been willing to look the other way when it came to Ed Phillips’s murder. He wanted to know why.
“Harlan Levesy’s got this town treed, doesn’t he?”
“Not Levesy himself, but the men who work for him.” Cumberland paused. “I guess it’s pretty much the same thing, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much,” The Kid agreed.
Cumberland swung the chair from side to side a little as he said, “Tell me again, what business is this of yours?”
“None, I suppose. I’m just a drifter, thought I might look for a riding job in these parts. After I met up with Marshal Tate, he said he’d put in a good word for me with Cy Levesy, the owner of the Broken Spoke.”
“Cy died two years ago.”
“I’m not surprised to hear it.”
“His boy took over the ranch,” Cumberland continued. “Harlan never got along that well with the old man. They had different ideas about how things should be run. Cy started the Broken Spoke and built it into a successful spread, but Harlan thought it could be bigger, make even more money.”
“So he started making things hard for some of the smaller outfits around him, and when the owners pulled out, he took over.”
Cumberland’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as he looked at The Kid. “You talk like a man who’s been around some.”
The Kid shrugged.
“You sure you didn’t come here to hire your gun to Harlan Levesy, instead of looking for a riding job?” Cumberland asked.
“I never even heard of Harlan Levesy until a little while ago, Marshal. And I don’t hire out my gun.”
“You’ve got the look of it. Morgan, you said you’re called . . .”
Cumberland glanced at the litter of papers on his desk.
“You can look through those reward dodgers all you want, Marshal, but you won’t find any of them with my name on them,” The Kid said.
“All right, don’t get your back up. It’s my job to keep the peace here.”
“That includes letting Jed Ahern get away with murder?”
The chair let out a loud creak as Cumberland sat forward sharply. “You don’t know what that bunch from the Broken Spoke is like! I’m sorry about Ed Phillips, damned sorry. He was a good man. Drove a freight wagon up here from the railroad every few weeks so we’d always have supplies on the shelves in the stores. And yeah, Ahern murdered him, no matter who threw the first punch or pulled a gun first. It was pure murder and we both know it.”
“Then why—”
Cumberland stood up and paced across the room. “Because when Harlan Levesy hears I’ve got his foreman locked up in jail and charged with murder, he’ll send his men to turn Ahern loose. And if I try to stop them, they’ll kill me. And when they’re done with killing me, they’re liable to turn on the rest of the town. I don’t think they’d burn it to the ground . . . Levesy needs a settlement
Cumberland grimaced. “Tate can take care of himself most of the time. He just thinks it’s twenty years ago. So I’m not surprised he made it that far. If it’s something he knew how to do back then, he still knows how to do it . . . mostly. His daughter and my sister were friends when the Tates still lived here. Edna gets letters from Bertha now and then. Bertha says her pa’s forgetting more and more things these days, simple things that he used to do all the time.”
Like how to put water in a coffeepot, The Kid thought, suddenly remembering the first night he and Tate had spent on the trail.
“I don’t guess any of that really matters,” Cumberland went on. “He’s here, and there are people like my pa who will look after him until we can figure out what to do with him. Jared Tate is just about the least of my worries right now.”
“With Ahern being the biggest worry?”
“With Ahern’s boss being the biggest worry.”
The Kid didn’t much like Marshal Riley Cumberland, but the bleak look in the marshal’s eyes almost made him feel sorry for the man. He reminded himself that Cumberland would have been willing to look the other way when it came to Ed Phillips’s murder. He wanted to know why.
“Harlan Levesy’s got this town treed, doesn’t he?”
“Not Levesy himself, but the men who work for him.” Cumberland paused. “I guess it’s pretty much the same thing, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much,” The Kid agreed.
Cumberland swung the chair from side to side a little as he said, “Tell me again, what business is this of yours?”
“None, I suppose. I’m just a drifter, thought I might look for a riding job in these parts. After I met up with Marshal Tate, he said he’d put in a good word for me with Cy Levesy, the owner of the Broken Spoke.”
“Cy died two years ago.”
“I’m not surprised to hear it.”
“His boy took over the ranch,” Cumberland continued. “Harlan never got along that well with the old man. They had different ideas about how things should be run. Cy started the Broken Spoke and built it into a successful spread, but Harlan thought it could be bigger, make even more money.”
“So he started making things hard for some of the smaller outfits around him, and when the owners pulled out, he took over.”
Cumberland’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as he looked at The Kid. “You talk like a man who’s been around some.”
The Kid shrugged.
“You sure you didn’t come here to hire your gun to Harlan Levesy, instead of looking for a riding job?” Cumberland asked.
“I never even heard of Harlan Levesy until a little while ago, Marshal. And I don’t hire out my gun.”
“You’ve got the look of it. Morgan, you said you’re called . . .”
Cumberland glanced at the litter of papers on his desk.
“You can look through those reward dodgers all you want, Marshal, but you won’t find any of them with my name on them,” The Kid said.
“All right, don’t get your back up. It’s my job to keep the peace here.”
“That includes letting Jed Ahern get away with murder?”
The chair let out a loud creak as Cumberland sat forward sharply. “You don’t know what that bunch from the Broken Spoke is like! I’m sorry about Ed Phillips, damned sorry. He was a good man. Drove a freight wagon up here from the railroad every few weeks so we’d always have supplies on the shelves in the stores. And yeah, Ahern murdered him, no matter who threw the first punch or pulled a gun first. It was pure murder and we both know it.”
“Then why—”
Cumberland stood up and paced across the room. “Because when Harlan Levesy hears I’ve got his foreman locked up in jail and charged with murder, he’ll send his men to turn Ahern loose. And if I try to stop them, they’ll kill me. And when they’re done with killing me, they’re liable to turn on the rest of the town. I don’t think they’d burn it to the ground . . . Levesy needs a settlement
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