Jake said, and crossed the room in three massive strides.
Lance was left alone for a moment and he leaned on the mantel and stared into the flames of the fire, reflecting on the day just gone. After Arkansas had left earlier, tearing off across the grasslands like the devil was on his tail, Rebecca had come to her father, wanting to know what was happening. Apparently she knew Arkansas and had been visiting McCord’s place, helping the old man who, she said, had been shot by rustlers.
That revelation had resulted in a fierce row between father and daughter.
Lance had forbidden his daughter to have anything further to do with Arkansas Smith and William McCord. She had stormed off, not understanding her father’s reasoning, and it had taken some time for him to talk her round. He’d convinced her that McCord was gulching on a deal: that he’d sold his spread fair and square and had now had second thoughts and was claiming the sale never occurred; that the bill of sale was a forgery.
The entrance of the two men broke his reverie. Jim came in first with Jake following behind. The big man closed the door and stood in front of it, huge arms crossed before his impressive chest.
‘You wanted to see me?’ Jim asked. He wore his nervousness like a loud shirt and he gulped audibly as John Lance’s eyes burned into him. If it weren’t for the fact that Lance’s daughter was asleep upstairs Jim would have feared for his life.
Lance nodded and took a cigar from the box. He bit off the end and spat it into the fire before taking a match to it and swallowing a mouthful of the sweet tasting tobacco.
‘Tell me about Doc Cooter,’ Lance said, and reclined in the soft chair beside the fire. He drew on the cigar and crossed one leg over the other, waiting.
Jim gulped once more. He didn’t sit down and almost leapt out of his skin when he heard footsteps behind him, but he relaxed when he turned and saw Jake. They were old friends and he knew the big man wouldn’t do him any harm.
‘We just wanted to find out if McCord was alive ordead, boss,’ Jim said, trying to keep his voice firm and even but mostly failing. ‘For you – because you’d asked us and we didn’t know. It was an accident. We tried to scare him and the gun misfired.’
‘I told you to go straight to Bowen’s place.’ Lance said, his voice dripping with menace, but on a sonic scale barely more than a whisper. ‘Not go off looking for the doctor.’
Jim nodded. He decided against telling him that the doc was already dead before they had been ordered to go to the old Bowen place. ‘We thought you’d want to know. We didn’t mean to kill him.’
‘What happened to Clay?’
Jim looked his boss firm in the eye and started to speak, but his words tripped over his tongue, which felt like a dry rag in his mouth.
‘Well?’ Lance prompted.
‘He’s dead.’
‘I know that,’ Lance said. ‘Arkansas implied you shot him.’
‘I weren’t aiming for him,’ Jim said, as if that explained everything. ‘I was looking to take that Arkansas fella down but Clay came into my line of fire at the last moment. I couldn’t do anything about it.’
‘I see.’ Lance placed the cigar in an ashtray and steepled his fingers to his lips. ‘You weren’t aiming for him! You killed the doc by accident and you weren’t aiming for Clay! Seems you have a lot of accidents.’
Jim shrugged his shoulders and had to tense to stop his trembling knees from knocking together. His mouth was as dry as the hinges of hell and he justcouldn’t work up any spit. He had to keep telling himself that he was safe, that they wouldn’t do anything with Rebecca asleep upstairs.
They wouldn’t hurt him – not here, not now.
‘You’ve caused me some problems.’
‘I’m sorry, boss.’ Jim’s voice broke and he lost control. ‘Let me go get this Arkansas now,’ he pleaded, ‘I’ll kill him for you.’
‘Yes,’ Lance said, and then nodded at Jake.
Before Jim could
Lance was left alone for a moment and he leaned on the mantel and stared into the flames of the fire, reflecting on the day just gone. After Arkansas had left earlier, tearing off across the grasslands like the devil was on his tail, Rebecca had come to her father, wanting to know what was happening. Apparently she knew Arkansas and had been visiting McCord’s place, helping the old man who, she said, had been shot by rustlers.
That revelation had resulted in a fierce row between father and daughter.
Lance had forbidden his daughter to have anything further to do with Arkansas Smith and William McCord. She had stormed off, not understanding her father’s reasoning, and it had taken some time for him to talk her round. He’d convinced her that McCord was gulching on a deal: that he’d sold his spread fair and square and had now had second thoughts and was claiming the sale never occurred; that the bill of sale was a forgery.
The entrance of the two men broke his reverie. Jim came in first with Jake following behind. The big man closed the door and stood in front of it, huge arms crossed before his impressive chest.
‘You wanted to see me?’ Jim asked. He wore his nervousness like a loud shirt and he gulped audibly as John Lance’s eyes burned into him. If it weren’t for the fact that Lance’s daughter was asleep upstairs Jim would have feared for his life.
Lance nodded and took a cigar from the box. He bit off the end and spat it into the fire before taking a match to it and swallowing a mouthful of the sweet tasting tobacco.
‘Tell me about Doc Cooter,’ Lance said, and reclined in the soft chair beside the fire. He drew on the cigar and crossed one leg over the other, waiting.
Jim gulped once more. He didn’t sit down and almost leapt out of his skin when he heard footsteps behind him, but he relaxed when he turned and saw Jake. They were old friends and he knew the big man wouldn’t do him any harm.
‘We just wanted to find out if McCord was alive ordead, boss,’ Jim said, trying to keep his voice firm and even but mostly failing. ‘For you – because you’d asked us and we didn’t know. It was an accident. We tried to scare him and the gun misfired.’
‘I told you to go straight to Bowen’s place.’ Lance said, his voice dripping with menace, but on a sonic scale barely more than a whisper. ‘Not go off looking for the doctor.’
Jim nodded. He decided against telling him that the doc was already dead before they had been ordered to go to the old Bowen place. ‘We thought you’d want to know. We didn’t mean to kill him.’
‘What happened to Clay?’
Jim looked his boss firm in the eye and started to speak, but his words tripped over his tongue, which felt like a dry rag in his mouth.
‘Well?’ Lance prompted.
‘He’s dead.’
‘I know that,’ Lance said. ‘Arkansas implied you shot him.’
‘I weren’t aiming for him,’ Jim said, as if that explained everything. ‘I was looking to take that Arkansas fella down but Clay came into my line of fire at the last moment. I couldn’t do anything about it.’
‘I see.’ Lance placed the cigar in an ashtray and steepled his fingers to his lips. ‘You weren’t aiming for him! You killed the doc by accident and you weren’t aiming for Clay! Seems you have a lot of accidents.’
Jim shrugged his shoulders and had to tense to stop his trembling knees from knocking together. His mouth was as dry as the hinges of hell and he justcouldn’t work up any spit. He had to keep telling himself that he was safe, that they wouldn’t do anything with Rebecca asleep upstairs.
They wouldn’t hurt him – not here, not now.
‘You’ve caused me some problems.’
‘I’m sorry, boss.’ Jim’s voice broke and he lost control. ‘Let me go get this Arkansas now,’ he pleaded, ‘I’ll kill him for you.’
‘Yes,’ Lance said, and then nodded at Jake.
Before Jim could
Similar Books
