Adventures of Cash Laramie and Gideon Miles (Cash Laramie & Gideon Miles Series) by Edward A. Grainger Page A

Anne," said Senator Woodruff.
    Mrs. Pritchard swept across the room to open a curtain. "I do run a boarding house, senator, and extra income in these hard times is always appreciated. Is this Mr. Smith an acquaintance, then?"
    "Oh no. We first met on the stage, well, he arrived at the stage at a most fortuitous time."
    "Intriguing. Intriguing indeed."
    Woodruff poured himself a liberal dollop of bourbon from the complimentary bottle on the nightstand. "Highwaymen assaulted us not long after we left Casper," he said. "Mr. Smith appeared and drove off three of the bandits with the most expertise shooting I have ever seen. He shot two of the men in the shoulder and blew the horse out from under the third. He claims that he abhors killing and shot only to wound. Damnedest thing I ever saw."
    "What happened to the outlaws?"
    "Smith left them trussed up by the side of the road with a note pinned to the unwounded one proclaiming them outlaws and highwaymen. He said that stretch of road is frequently traveled by lawmen and they would likely be picked up soon. I, of course, invited him to ride in the coach as we were going the same way."
    "He seemed quite gentlemanly," Mrs. Pritchard said. "Not at all one who would go in for fancy shooting."
    "He shoots extraordinarily well," Woodruff said, stifling a yawn.
    "Oh, you must be dead tired. Let me turn down the bedclothes." She went to the four-poster, turned down the covers, and fluffed the pillow. "There. Now, what time do you wish to arise?"
    "Six thirty in the morning, if you don't mind. The stage east leaves early, and I must get back to Washington to vote on the Indian bill."
    "As you wish, senator."
    "Oh, could you also package some victuals for Mr. Smith, compliments of me, please? And I will pay his room fee as well."
    "Very good, senator. Would that be all?"
    "Yes, it would. Excuse me now, it's been a long day and I'd like to retire."
    "Certainly," Mrs. Pritchard said. She swept from the room with her back straight as an iron rod and her skirts swirling.
    Senator Woodruff realized he'd kept Scarecrow Jim's newspaper. He sat down in the overstuffed chair near the lamp to read the editorial on his Indian bill. "Lies," he muttered. "Balderdash and lies." He rolled up the paper, smacked his leg with it, and tossed it on the nightstand.
    Something tapped at the window.
    Woodruff pulled back the curtain to see what. The wind was blowing and the limbs of a big old oak tree brushed the side of the building, making the noise.
    Finding the room a bit stuffy, Senator Woodruff decided to open the window. He gave the window frame an upward push. It refused to move. He felt around the frame and found the latch on its top. This he undid, then lifted the window and drank in the warm Cheyenne air.
    The senator went back to his overstuffed chair as the breeze ruffled the curtains. He picked up his half-empty glass of bourbon and sipped. A good fragrant whiskey, he found. He picked up the bottle. Old Grand-Dad. Not the most expensive, but excellent as a complimentary bottle. He tipped a bit more into his glass.
    He did not even sense the garrote that slipped over his head and drew up tight on his throat. He could not shout for help. He could not breathe. He could not think straight. He struggled to put fingers beneath the cord. He couldn't. The world turned red. He struggled for breath, then struggled for life, kicking and bucking and using the last of his failing strength in trying to escape the cord of death. Thirty long seconds elapsed before Senator Josiah B. Woodruff shuffled off his mortal coil. His sphincter opened. His bladder voided. He died, his bulging eyes wide open.
    * * *
    Deputy U.S. Marshal Cash Laramie stepped into the room where Senator Woodruff had been killed, then moved aside as Chief Devon Penn escorted the local doctor toward the exit.
    "Thanks, Doc. I'll send someone over for your report later on. And remember," Chief Penn's voice turned hard, "no talking to any newspaper