The Double-Jack Murders: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (Sheriff Bo Tully Mysteries) by Patrick F. McManus Page A

wrinkles seemed to dominate her face, even framed as it was with a halo of white hair. “What’s wrong, Agatha? You look worried.”
    “Bo, I just thought about that madman that’s after you. And I noticed you reached under your vest when Bunny’s car drove into the yard. You have to be awfully concerned about that monster. So, here I am, asking you to go off on a frivolous goose chase just for me. Kincaid could be out there in the mountains waiting for you.”
    “Agatha! Agatha! Agatha! The last thing I ever want to do is cause you the slightest worry about me. As far as Kincaid goes, we’re getting that problem taken care of. I’ve got Pap and Dave with me, and you know they’re a whole lot more dangerous than Kincaid. If the three of us can’t handle that nut, I’d better look for another kind of work. I may not have mentioned this to Pap and Dave but I’ve got one of my best deputies concentrating on Kincaid and we’ve worked out a little trap for him.”
    Pap looked surprised. “We have a plan? Don’t tell me it involves Pugh! Our lives depend on Pugh?”
    Bernice put her hand on Tully’s cheek. “Bo, I wish you would give up this job. You know you could make a nice living now as an artist and you wouldn’t have some maniac out to kill you.”
    “Probably only art critics then,” Tully said. “But right now I’m up here to enjoy myself, and there’s nothing I like more than delving into a mystery, particularly one provided by you, Agatha.”
    “You’re sure, Bo?” she said. “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather be out there trying to arrest Kincaid?”
    “Arrest Kincaid? I’m absolutely sure of that, Agatha. Anyway, there’s one thing I’ve been wondering about. How did you and your mother survive here on the ranch after your father disappeared?”
    “It wasn’t easy,” Agatha said. She told them how her mother had been teaching all eight grades at the Boulder Creek School when she married Tom Link. The school was one room and built of logs. It was three miles from the ranch. After Tom disappeared, her mother went back to teaching at the school. She would get up at four, milk the cow, fix breakfast, bundle Agatha up, and drop her off at the O’Boyles’, who lived between the ranch and Boulder Creek. Then she would walk on to the school, build a fire in the stove, dip a bucket of drinking water out of the creek, and get ready to teach the dozen or so kids in eight different grades. At noon, she would cook them hot lunch from government commodities and then read to them from Mark Twain or Jack London or one of her other favorite authors, and finally start the afternoon session.She would pick up Agatha from the O’Boyles’ that night and walk home carrying the little girl, milk the cow, and cook supper. “That’s the way it was in those days,” Agatha said. “People did what they had to do.”
    “Just like nowadays,” Tully said.
    Pap snorted. “I hope you’re joking, Bo. It ain’t the way it is nowadays at all! Now gov’ment rushes in and gives out handfuls of cash! It’s terrible!”
    “Oh, for the good old days,” Tully said.

6
    THEY ARRIVED AT Hastings Road by early afternoon. “What’s the plan?” Dave said.
    “The first thing we better do is set up camp on Dead-man,” Tully said. “I’ve camped there lots of times over the years. There’s a great campsite at the end of an old logging road. The high country above it is about as rugged as I’ve ever seen. I got lost up there on a hunting trip twenty years ago. Thought I was going to die, but I worked down to the headwaters of the creek and managed to find my way out.”
    “Didn’t happen to see a gold mine, did you?” Dave asked.
    “Afraid not. Most of my attention was used up staying alive.”
    “Deadman,” Pap said. “The name has a nice ring, don’t it?”
    “It’s the biggest stream,” Tully said. “Probably run yourdredge and find some gold there, Pap. The logging road is drivable at least as