Imposter by William W. Johnstone Page A

face. “She’s a very clumsy person, Doctor. She falls a lot.”
    â€œJohn,” Lara said. “You’ll have to do better than that. People in this town have seen me dance at social functions. They know I am anything but clumsy.”
    â€œDamn you!” John Whitter yelled. “You’ve been sleeping around with some lowlife!”
    â€œI have not, John. I have never been unfaithful to you.”
    There was a note to her voice that convinced both Frank and the doctor that she was telling the truth, and the gossips in the town be damned with their wagging tongues.
    â€œYou whore!” John shouted, and lunged at Lara, his right hand balled into a fist.
    Frank stepped between them and shoved John back into the house. John stumbled and landed on his butt in the foyer.
    â€œDamn you, Morgan!” John shouted. “Are you sleeping with my whore of a wife?”
    â€œI’m not sleeping with your wife, John, and your wife is not a whore.”
    â€œI say she is!”
    â€œThen you’re wrong, John Whitter. In addition to being a wife-beater.”
    â€œIf I have struck her, rarely at best, she provoked me.”
    â€œI’m sure she did, John,” Frank said very dryly. “You’re about a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than your wife, and yet she provoked you. ”
    â€œWhat damn business is this of yours, gunfighter?” John yelled.
    â€œShe came to me, asking for help.”
    â€œAnd what favors did she bestow upon you for your help?” the lawyer asked, using a very sneering tone as he rose from the floor with as much dignity as he could.
    â€œYou’re about to let your butt overload your mouth, Whitter,” Frank warned the man.
    â€œGet out!” Whitter screamed. “Doctor, Morgan, you both get out of my house. You, Lara, you stay. Get in here and forget all this foolishness.”
    â€œI want my clothes, John,” Lara told her husband. “Kindly step out of the way.”
    â€œYou go to hell!” John yelled at her.
    â€œWhere is Johnny?” Lara asked.
    â€œSpending the night at the Carters’. Thank God he isn’t here to witness this.”
    â€œI will certainly agree with you about that. Now, get out of my way, John.”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œStep out of the way, John,” Doc Evans told the man. “It’s a free country and Lara has the right to come and go as she pleases. Either step out of the way or I’ll ask Deputy Morgan to forcibly remove you.”
    John struggled with his emotions for a few seconds, his face clearly mirroring his inner fight. Then he waved a hand. “Oh, go get your things. I’m glad to be rid of you.” He stepped out of the way.
    Lara looked at Frank and the doctor. “Will you help me with my trunks? And how will I get them to the hotel?”
    â€œCertainly, Lara,” Doc Evans said. “Frank, will you arrange for a buggy?”
    â€œRight now.” Frank stepped out of the house and pushed through the crowd of neighbors that had gathered in the street in front of the Whitter house. He walked to the livery and hitched up a team, then went to the hotel and arranged for a room for Lara. The desk clerk looked at him with a number of questions in his eyes. Frank ignored the look and drove to the Whitter house. The crowd of neighbors had increased.
    â€œWhat’s going on here, Deputy?” a woman asked.
    â€œMrs. Whitter is taking a short vacation. That’s all.”
    â€œYou mean she’s leaving that bastard?” a man asked. “Good for her. She should have done that a long time ago.”
    â€œNow, Cecil,” the woman beside him cautioned.
    Frank ignored the couple and walked on into the house. A pile of luggage was stacked by the front door, and he began loading the trunks onto the buggy.
    â€œYou’ll be sorry you had a hand in this, gunfighter,” John told him as Frank once more entered