Killing Time In Eternity - Edge Series 4 by George G. Gilman Page B

Warner was adequately armed for bounty hunting: his rifle was a fairly new looking Winchester and in the holster tied down to his left thigh was an older but far from decrepit long barrel frontier Colt. On his gunbelt to the right of his belly was a hunting knife in a sheath. Just for part of a second when they glanced at each other, Warner’s green eyes showed a degree of glittering ice coldness Edge recognised as a sign that this was probably another man who had no compunction about killing.
    Only for that sliver of time did Warner’s eyes dominate a face that was long and thin and deeply lined and stained dark brown by the sun and wind from spending long periods in open country. When he had laughed and when his features were in repose, his wide mouth and aquiline nose, sunken cheeks and pointed jaw combined into a look of inoffensive reticence that was another asset for a man in his line of work. For allied with his less than powerful frame, the nondescript features would allow him to blend easily into the background of a crowd whenever that was necessary.
    ‘Well, Clay Warner, I do declare,’ Joel Gannon murmured to Edge in much the same surprised tone as Ward Flynt had used when he spotted the rider on the flatbed car. ‘Now whatever is that drifter planning on doing back here in Eternity, I wonder?’
    The undertaker had been one of the first businessmen to take delivery of what he was expecting on the train and now he was struggling with a heavy packing case, prominently marked: Top Quality Casket Handles.
    Edge answered reflectively: ‘Looking to make some bounty money, maybe. If he’s still in the line of work Flynt said he was when last heard of.’
    Gannon nodded, his heavily jowled face set in a quizzical frown. ‘That’s right. I heard Warner was in that trade. But business sure must be bad if he has to ride the rails. Like a hobo, so to speak.’
    ‘Sometimes a feller has to get where he wants to go any way he can,’ Edge replied

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    ‘I guess so.’ The frowning, head-shaking undertaker hefted the weighty crate into a more comfortable position on his shoulder. ‘Sure is puzzling, though. Him turning up in Eternity this way.’
    Edge showed a brief sardonic smile as he said: ‘I reckon Warner would be happy to know an undertaker can’t get a handle on him.’
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    CHAPTER • 5
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    EDGE WATCHED with a disconcerting sense of frustration as the clanking line of freight cars was hauled out of the depot by a locomotive that sounded a lot more powerful than when it arrived. The term wanderlust that Ward Flynt used about Clay Warner had struck a chord that lurked not too deeply in his mind and reinforced an inclination to be on his way somewhere else. Any place where he would not feel an affinity with Joel Gannon and the rest of the townsmen now moving away from the depot with their share of the merchandise delivered on the train.
    And he knew that in truth there was nothing to keep him from leaving Eternity whenever he chose – except for the principle of being owed money because of the dishonesty of a corrupt lawyer. Which paradoxically was an additional spur for him to leave this town with its pervading odour of decay. For when he finally did ride out of Eternity his intention was to track down Andrew Devlin and make the sonofabitch pay – in cash or kind
    – for the hard time he had caused him. And kind could well mean the man’s life. So now he began to experience an uncomfortable mixture of anger and something akin to helplessness as he crossed the meeting of the trails and started up the curve of Main Street. Passed the Second Chance Saloon just as Buck Segal swung wide and fastened back the large doors to either side of the batwings. The handsomely sculptured face of the powerfully built saloon-keeper was set in a morose scowl as he swept his blue eyed gaze fleetingly over Edge like he was a total stranger newly arrived