she was addressing a class of impressionable young children said: ‘I understand the sheriff did not have with him the Mexican lady storekeeper he went north to escort back to Bishopsburg, sir?’
Edge realised that as a novice to the table he had not played the breakfast game entirely by the unwritten rules. He had emptied his coffee cup while he was eating: not saved any to accompany the gossip that followed.
He smiled briefly as he rose from the table and looked down at each of his fellow guests in the correct order as he replied to their questions.
‘That’s right, the sheriff and me came in from Railton City together. Whether I’m just passing through or not depends on my job prospects in Bishopsburg. Figure the matter of Isabella Gomez is something you should take up with George North. And as a stranger here, I don’t figure I ought to involve myself in the town’s troubles.’
Otis Logan said something that caused Edge to pause at the door to the hallway. ‘It seems to me, mister that a man who caries a gun on his hip at breakfast . . . He maybe ain’t no stranger to the kind of trouble we got in this town?’
Edge lightly touched the walnut butt of the Colt .45 jutting from his holster. Then dropped his hand away, smiled at the ugly old man who fixed him with a demanding stare and said: ‘Don’t let appearances fool you, feller.’
‘Your appearance don’t fool me, son,’ was the even toned reply. ‘You won’t be just passing through here. Mark my words.’
‘You figure you’re a teller of fortunes now, Otis?’ Whitman chided. ‘Don’t you pay no attention to Otis, mister.’
Edge said: ‘Don’t hold with fortune telling. Though I sure would like to make one.’
41
CHAPTER • 6
___________________________________________________________________
SHORTLY AFTER Edge returned to his room to retrieve his hat and the rifle that had been loaned to him by the Railton City marshal’s office he heard a horse moving on the street below.
He went to the window out of idle curiosity and saw the tall, heavily built figure of the cheroot smoking Sheriff North in the saddle on the piebald gelding Isabella Gomez had been riding before the lawman’s mount was shot out from under him. There was a grim faced, rigid determination in the way North sat his saddle, looking neither to left nor right as he turned off Main Street on to River Road. And continued to hold the horse to an easy walk, apparently in no hurry to get to where he was going. Probably, Edge mused, because he did not relish what he knew he was going to find when he reached his destination: which was surely the Bellamy farm. Other people began to appear on the stretch of River Road Edge could see, and along Main Street to the north and south of the intersection. Among them were his fellow guests at the boarding house, Rex Whitman and Miss McBain, who joined other townspeople starting out for work.
Downstairs, the long retired Otis Logan had lingered at the breakfast table after the others left and now he emerged into the hallway as Edge was letting himself out of the front door.
‘So son, a rifle, too?’ the jug eared old timer drawled pointedly. ‘I knew we had a little trouble hereabouts, but I didn’t – ‘
‘Quit bothering my new guest, Otis!’ Doris Hyams rebuked sternly from the kitchen at the rear of the house. ‘And get your useless self back here to help me with the dishes.’
Logan winked at Edge and grinned while he spoke loudly in a disgruntled tone, obviously intent on irritating the woman. ‘Son, you take note of this, you hear? A man don’t necessarily have to be married to find himself under the thumb of a nagging female.’
Mrs Hyams snapped a retort but Edge did not hear it through the door he closed at his back.
As he strolled toward and then across the intersection several total strangers acknowledged him with a brief word or two and others nodded. Although most eyed him with a degree of mistrust,
Edge realised that as a novice to the table he had not played the breakfast game entirely by the unwritten rules. He had emptied his coffee cup while he was eating: not saved any to accompany the gossip that followed.
He smiled briefly as he rose from the table and looked down at each of his fellow guests in the correct order as he replied to their questions.
‘That’s right, the sheriff and me came in from Railton City together. Whether I’m just passing through or not depends on my job prospects in Bishopsburg. Figure the matter of Isabella Gomez is something you should take up with George North. And as a stranger here, I don’t figure I ought to involve myself in the town’s troubles.’
Otis Logan said something that caused Edge to pause at the door to the hallway. ‘It seems to me, mister that a man who caries a gun on his hip at breakfast . . . He maybe ain’t no stranger to the kind of trouble we got in this town?’
Edge lightly touched the walnut butt of the Colt .45 jutting from his holster. Then dropped his hand away, smiled at the ugly old man who fixed him with a demanding stare and said: ‘Don’t let appearances fool you, feller.’
‘Your appearance don’t fool me, son,’ was the even toned reply. ‘You won’t be just passing through here. Mark my words.’
‘You figure you’re a teller of fortunes now, Otis?’ Whitman chided. ‘Don’t you pay no attention to Otis, mister.’
Edge said: ‘Don’t hold with fortune telling. Though I sure would like to make one.’
41
CHAPTER • 6
___________________________________________________________________
SHORTLY AFTER Edge returned to his room to retrieve his hat and the rifle that had been loaned to him by the Railton City marshal’s office he heard a horse moving on the street below.
He went to the window out of idle curiosity and saw the tall, heavily built figure of the cheroot smoking Sheriff North in the saddle on the piebald gelding Isabella Gomez had been riding before the lawman’s mount was shot out from under him. There was a grim faced, rigid determination in the way North sat his saddle, looking neither to left nor right as he turned off Main Street on to River Road. And continued to hold the horse to an easy walk, apparently in no hurry to get to where he was going. Probably, Edge mused, because he did not relish what he knew he was going to find when he reached his destination: which was surely the Bellamy farm. Other people began to appear on the stretch of River Road Edge could see, and along Main Street to the north and south of the intersection. Among them were his fellow guests at the boarding house, Rex Whitman and Miss McBain, who joined other townspeople starting out for work.
Downstairs, the long retired Otis Logan had lingered at the breakfast table after the others left and now he emerged into the hallway as Edge was letting himself out of the front door.
‘So son, a rifle, too?’ the jug eared old timer drawled pointedly. ‘I knew we had a little trouble hereabouts, but I didn’t – ‘
‘Quit bothering my new guest, Otis!’ Doris Hyams rebuked sternly from the kitchen at the rear of the house. ‘And get your useless self back here to help me with the dishes.’
Logan winked at Edge and grinned while he spoke loudly in a disgruntled tone, obviously intent on irritating the woman. ‘Son, you take note of this, you hear? A man don’t necessarily have to be married to find himself under the thumb of a nagging female.’
Mrs Hyams snapped a retort but Edge did not hear it through the door he closed at his back.
As he strolled toward and then across the intersection several total strangers acknowledged him with a brief word or two and others nodded. Although most eyed him with a degree of mistrust,
Similar Books
