doubtless because of the rifle he carried. No other man he saw had even a holstered sixgun on his hip, let alone a repeater sloped to his shoulder. 42
As he crossed the start of Mossman Road his attention was drawn to the window of the cell where last night he had seen the man he presumed was Jose Martinez. But there was no grinning face visible between the bars this morning. He saw through the glass panel of the door that Ted Straker was on duty in the law office, seated behind the only desk. The good looking young deputy was hunched over some papers, writing laboriously, and he looked up with a bleak eyed gaze as the door swung open.
Then a trace of unease showed on his dark eyed, slightly pouting mouthed, recently clean shaven face. And Edge recalled the mixed reception he had received on account of the rifle as he came here. He spread an easy smile across his far more life scarred features as he explained:
‘Name’s Edge, feller. Maybe North mentioned me? Come to return this Winchester that ain’t mine. And collect five bucks that is?’
Relief caused Straker’s Adam’s apple to bob, then he raised a wan smile to replace the nervous frown, set down his pen and came up out of the chair.
‘George said to expect you.’
‘You best get your business done and leave this place quickly, amigo,’ the prisoner advised from beyond a barred door in the corner behind the desk. ‘Be safer for you. Because when my father’s men come to – ‘
‘Shut up, Martinez!’ Straker’s pointedly weary tone suggested it was a command he had often issued.
The prisoner who advanced to the barred door was eighteen years old, no taller than five and a half feet and had a stocky build. There seemed to be more muscles than excess fat filling out the plain grey shirt and suit pants he wore. He was youthfully good looking almost to the point of feminine prettiness but there was in the set of his regular features a pointer toward a rugged handsomeness to come in later years. If he did not hang for murder at this early age, Edge reminded himself. His hair was dark and tightly curled by nature. His teeth were as white as they had looked in the darkness last night. And his eyes were polished black and gave the impression he had not a worry in the world as he shrugged and accepted Straker’s order with equanimity.
The deputy came around the desk and extended a hand to be shaken. Then he took the rifle and leaned it against a wall. Nearby was a small safe with a key already in the lock. He opened it, took out a single bill and gave it to Edge as he closed the door with a booted foot.
43
‘There you go.’
Edge added the money to the small stake in his hip pocket. ‘Much obliged, feller.’
‘George is out to the Bellamy farm right now.’ He gestured to the disarray of papers on the desk. ‘Another man’s written report of what he’s seen can’t really replace taking a look at something like that for yourself.’
‘I guess not,’ Edge said from where he had paused at the threshold.
‘Something else I can do for you?’ Straker returned to the chair behind the desk and picked up the pen.
‘Idle curiosity. Have you heard anything of the Gomez woman?’
The deputy was grim faced as he shook his head.
Martinez guffawed and crowed: ‘The poor judge, he is dead! The only witness, she has gone! It seems certain to me that I will soon be out of here! Maybe you and me will have a drink together in the Dancing Horse Saloon when they are forced to set me free, eh amigo?’
Edge said: ‘I wouldn’t count my drinks until you’re free of the coop, feller.’
‘I said for you to shut up, Martinez!’ Straker snarled, this time with vehemence rather than resignation. Then to Edge in a more moderate tone, he said: ‘I saw Rex Whitman taking you into Doris’s place. I guess you’re staying there? Pretty good, uh?’
‘No complaints, feller.’
‘You won’t find a better rooming house if you plan a long stay in
As he crossed the start of Mossman Road his attention was drawn to the window of the cell where last night he had seen the man he presumed was Jose Martinez. But there was no grinning face visible between the bars this morning. He saw through the glass panel of the door that Ted Straker was on duty in the law office, seated behind the only desk. The good looking young deputy was hunched over some papers, writing laboriously, and he looked up with a bleak eyed gaze as the door swung open.
Then a trace of unease showed on his dark eyed, slightly pouting mouthed, recently clean shaven face. And Edge recalled the mixed reception he had received on account of the rifle as he came here. He spread an easy smile across his far more life scarred features as he explained:
‘Name’s Edge, feller. Maybe North mentioned me? Come to return this Winchester that ain’t mine. And collect five bucks that is?’
Relief caused Straker’s Adam’s apple to bob, then he raised a wan smile to replace the nervous frown, set down his pen and came up out of the chair.
‘George said to expect you.’
‘You best get your business done and leave this place quickly, amigo,’ the prisoner advised from beyond a barred door in the corner behind the desk. ‘Be safer for you. Because when my father’s men come to – ‘
‘Shut up, Martinez!’ Straker’s pointedly weary tone suggested it was a command he had often issued.
The prisoner who advanced to the barred door was eighteen years old, no taller than five and a half feet and had a stocky build. There seemed to be more muscles than excess fat filling out the plain grey shirt and suit pants he wore. He was youthfully good looking almost to the point of feminine prettiness but there was in the set of his regular features a pointer toward a rugged handsomeness to come in later years. If he did not hang for murder at this early age, Edge reminded himself. His hair was dark and tightly curled by nature. His teeth were as white as they had looked in the darkness last night. And his eyes were polished black and gave the impression he had not a worry in the world as he shrugged and accepted Straker’s order with equanimity.
The deputy came around the desk and extended a hand to be shaken. Then he took the rifle and leaned it against a wall. Nearby was a small safe with a key already in the lock. He opened it, took out a single bill and gave it to Edge as he closed the door with a booted foot.
43
‘There you go.’
Edge added the money to the small stake in his hip pocket. ‘Much obliged, feller.’
‘George is out to the Bellamy farm right now.’ He gestured to the disarray of papers on the desk. ‘Another man’s written report of what he’s seen can’t really replace taking a look at something like that for yourself.’
‘I guess not,’ Edge said from where he had paused at the threshold.
‘Something else I can do for you?’ Straker returned to the chair behind the desk and picked up the pen.
‘Idle curiosity. Have you heard anything of the Gomez woman?’
The deputy was grim faced as he shook his head.
Martinez guffawed and crowed: ‘The poor judge, he is dead! The only witness, she has gone! It seems certain to me that I will soon be out of here! Maybe you and me will have a drink together in the Dancing Horse Saloon when they are forced to set me free, eh amigo?’
Edge said: ‘I wouldn’t count my drinks until you’re free of the coop, feller.’
‘I said for you to shut up, Martinez!’ Straker snarled, this time with vehemence rather than resignation. Then to Edge in a more moderate tone, he said: ‘I saw Rex Whitman taking you into Doris’s place. I guess you’re staying there? Pretty good, uh?’
‘No complaints, feller.’
‘You won’t find a better rooming house if you plan a long stay in
Similar Books
