Powder Keg by Ed Gorman Page B

who I was getting them for.”
    “How long was Mike here?”
    “Not long. Maybe half an hour. He stayed in the shed in the back. Most of the time he talked to Tom.”
    “You think he headed into the mountains?”
    “Wouldn’t you?” she snapped. “Everybody thinking that you murdered somebody? Wouldn’t you head for the mountains?”
    “I need to go out and look around. See if he might be hiding.”
    “I remember the day when my word was good enough.” She shook her head. “When Mike’s word was good enough.”
    “It’s different now, Jen. It’s murder.”
    “You don’t know he did it.”
    “No, I don’t. But I have to do my job.” He picked up his Stetson from the floor. “I’m just doing my job here, Jen,” he said again.
    “You think Mr. Ford could stay and talk to me while you’re looking around?”
    I’d been about to stand up.
    “That all right with you?” he asked.
    “Sure.”
    He nodded to us and then walked to the door. He had to push hard on it to get it closed tight.
    The wind came wicked against the front window. She looked up as if someone had knocked on her front door.
    “Maybe my prayers’ll be answered.”
    “Wind?”
    “Wind and snow. The kind of blizzard that’ll keep those bounty men from going into the mountains.”
    “Daly was a good man.”
    “He said the same thing about you. Said not to judge federal men by those other two.”
    “Connelly and Pepper.”
    “I can’t seem to remember their names. Probably because I even hate to say them out loud.” Then: “They’ll go after Mike in the morning, won’t they?”
    “Yeah. If the weather allows it.”
    She folded her hands in a kind of prayerful way. Said nothing. Then: “They’ll kill him now, won’t they?” She didn’t look up at me.
    “Not necessarily.”
    Now she looked up. “You don’t need to lie to me, Mr. Ford. Right now I’m sort of weak because I just heard about Tom Daly. But I’m strong. I know what they’ll be up to tomorrow. Flannery wants him dead and Flannery always gets his way around here.”
    “His wife was friendly with Mike before she married Flannery? Is that how it works?”
    She actually laughed. “Well, that’s a very delicate way to put it. ‘Was friendly.’ My brother is such a tomcat he was denounced from the altar of the Methodist church one Sunday morning. Not by name, but everybody knew who he was talking about. And I’m not making any excuses for Mike, either. He’d see married women if there weren’t any single women around. He even came between me and my best friend, Loretta DeMeer. I was uncomfortable when she started seeing him. Neither of them told me. Loretta and I don’t speak much anymore. He isn’t a saint by a long shot. So, yes, the short answer to your question is, there is still plenty of tension between Flannery and my brother. Mike wouldn’t ever admit it but he may still have been seeing Laura once in a while on the sly.”
    I remembered the hard harsh way Flannery had treated his wife, and right in front of me. You push on a woman that way, she just might push back sometime.
    A frown on that vivid, pretty face.
    “Laura—this is a terrible thing to say, and you probably won’t like me after I say it—but most people can’t see past that beautiful face of hers. They think she’s this innocent little woman. But the way she went back and forth between Mike and Flannery—
    “I even felt sorry for Flannery. In the beginning, anyway. Before he got so hateful about Mike and Laura being together. But a lot of it was her fault. She wanted his money but she didn’t want him. And she wanted Mike but she didn’t want to live on a farm. That was his big dream. Having a farm. So she went back and forth between them. She could never quite let go of Flannery. So Mike finally just walked away from her. Wouldn’t have anything to do with her. She used to come here and sit where you’re sitting and cry her eyes out. She wanted me to help her get Mike