Cotton's Devil (9781101618523) by Phil Dunlap Page B

sipped from a cup of tea, which she daintily held in both hands, while glaring across the table at Cotton. He had as yet not been forthcoming about his suspicions regarding the presence of James Lee Hogg in Apache Springs, and any possible explanation of why she might have been a target, even though he knew he owed it to her to come clean. Cotton merely fidgeted in his chair, taking an occasional bite of a plate of eggs. His eyes wandered around, taking in the floor, ceiling, and various pieces of furniture, as Emily remained quiet and patient, blowing on her cup between swallows. Her stoicism told him she would willingly die where she sat waiting until he was forthcoming.
    â€œHaven’t you ever done anything in your life that made you ashamed of spilling the beans?” Cotton finally said without looking her in the eye.
    â€œI have. When I was seven, I pushed my little brother off a fence. He broke his arm. At first, I claimed he fell because he was teasing me and not paying attention to what he wasdoing. I allowed he shouldn’t have been climbing the fence in the first place. After a couple of days, my guilt took over and I confessed, expecting the worst. It never came. No recrimination, no anger, no punishment. My mother just hugged me. My brother wasn’t even all that mad, although he was pretty uncomfortable until the arm healed.”
    â€œI’m not talking about things you did as a child. I’m talking about serious, life-altering things. Life-and-death things.”
    â€œHow many people have you had to kill, Cotton? Ten, twenty, more?”
    â€œWhat difference does it make? Probably more than I’d like to remember. And I’m not particularly proud of any of ’em.”
    â€œWell, I know that not one was done for anything other than a righteous reason. You’re a legally elected lawman, not a murderer. Of that I am certain.”
    Cotton stiffened at her mention of murder. That was exactly what he considered himself to be. A murderer.
And yet, I’d do it again in payment for the life of my sister
. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then scooted his chair back and walked to the window. He parted the curtain and stared out on the street. Jack was just entering the jail.
    â€œI get the feeling you know why that man tried to shoot me. Am I right, Cotton?”
    â€œI don’t rightly know. I have an idea, a mere suspicion, that’s all. I’ll know more when I can see him face-to-face.”
    â€œSo what’s your idea?”
    â€œIt’s got nothing to do with you. It’s me he’s after. Of that I am certain.”
    â€œSomething that happened recently?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œSo, he’s someone from your past.”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œBut why me?”
    â€œHe knows you’re important to me. That’s why.”
    â€œThen this is about revenge?”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œWhy does he want you dead?”
    â€œPayback, money—both, likely.”
    â€œAre you saying he’s a hired killer?”
    â€œThat’s my guess.”
    â€œPeople don’t hire killers for no good reason, do they?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œIs that reason what you can’t seem to bring yourself to tell me?”
    â€œLikely.”
    Emily knew she had only succeeded in chasing the goat around the barn and still hadn’t caught it. She sighed and took another sip of tea. She sat silently as he continued his gazing out the window. If she was hoping he would relent, he was just as rigid in his intention not to tell her the whole story. After several minutes, he returned to the table, picked up his own cup, gulped the rest of his coffee, which had cooled sufficiently to allow such a daring act, and started for the door.
    â€œI’m going to the livery to rent a buckboard to go fetch Thorn McCann and Delilah Jones. I’ll be back in a few days.”
    â€œWait! If you don’t mind my staying with Henry