Day of Independence by William W. Johnstone Page A

light.

CHAPTER TEN
    Someone rapped on Hank Cannan’s door, an apologetic tat-tat-tat.
    Groaning, he reached out and unholstered his Colt.
    â€œCome in,” he said. “And you’d better be grinnin’ like a possum.”
    The door opened, and a man stuck his gray head inside. “I hope we’re not intruding, Ranger Cannan,” he said.
    â€œFolks come in and out of here all the time,” Cannan said.
    â€œThen we can come in?”
    â€œCome right ahead.”
    Three men filed into the room, respectable-looking citizens who seemed to have dressed for the occasion in their Sunday best.
    â€œMy name is Frank Curtis,” the gray-haired man said. “I’m mayor of Last Chance. These are my associates, Ed Gillman and Ben Coffin.”
    Gillman was a tall, slender man with an open, pleasant face. Ben Coffin was plump, jolly, with a wide, copper-colored nose. Thin strands of pale hair were fastidiously arranged across his balding pate.
    He stuck out his hand and grinned. “Coffin by name, Coffin by nature,” he said. “Put it there, Ranger.”
    Cannan placed his revolver on the bed and accepted the man’s hand.
    â€œBen is the town undertaker,” Curtis said. “Ed owns the dry goods store across the street.”
    After shaking hands with Gillman, Cannan said, “What can I do for you gentlemen?”
    Roxie Miller, who looked as though she’d just waked up the light of a May morning, had slipped into the room. “Please make it brief, Mayor,” she said. “Ranger Cannan is very weak and he tires quickly.”
    Disappointment tightened the faces of the three townsmen, and Cannan figured Roxie had just said something they didn’t want to hear.
    â€œThen I’ll be brief,” Curtis said. “The man you shot has been murdered.”
    Cannan was surprised. “Who would murder a dying man?”
    â€œWe don’t know. But someone did. Stuck a knife in his throat.”
    â€œWe think Abe Hacker is behind this,” Coffin said.
    â€œMurdered one of his own men?” Cannan said.
    â€œThat could be the case,” the mayor said.
    â€œMotive?” Cannan said.
    Curtis shook his head and the others stayed dumb.
    Cannan said, “It could be he killed Gable to shut him up. Hacker may have ordered the attempt on my life.”
    â€œBecause you were in the way of his plans,” Curtis said.
    â€œThat’s how I see it,” Cannan said.
    He picked up his revolver from the bed and shoved it back in the holster. “Hacker plans to take Last Chance away from you, Mayor,” he said. “Have you heard that?”
    â€œNo, we haven’t.”
    â€œMaybe it’s not true.”
    â€œHe wants something, all right,” Coffin said. “That’s why he’s still here.”
    Cannan sat higher in the bed. He tried not to let the pain show.
    â€œHe came for gold. I heard that,” he said.
    â€œThere is no gold,” Gillman said. “There never was any gold.”
    â€œI reckon Hacker knows that by now,” Cannan said.
    A silence fell, stretched.
    Then Curtis said, “We hoped you could investigate the matter, Ranger Cannan.” His eyes flicked to the bloodstained bandage on Cannan’s shoulder. “But I see now that it’s impossible.”
    Cannan closed his eyes briefly.
    Roxie was right. He tired fast.
    â€œMayor,” he said, “how many fighting men can you raise in a hurry?”
    â€œTwo score, I reckon. But none of them are gunfighters like Hacker’s boys.”
    â€œWhat about the ranchers?”
    â€œThey hire seasonal punchers. The Rafter-K and the Elkhorn won’t sign on more until spring.”
    â€œTom Battles and his two sons over to the Elkhorn are pretty good with guns,” Coffin said.
    â€œIf they come up against Hacker’s men they’ll need to be more than pretty good,” Cannan said. “Baptiste Dupoix