time to do what needs to be done.”
“What ’s that?”
“Don ’t worry about it. Like I said, you’ve got to trust me. Did anyone else see you besides Ortega?”
“No, just him and he won ’t talk because he doesn’t want anyone to know the information came from him.”
“Good , then we’ll see you in town.” Stewart was vastly pleased. This was turning out to be a very good day.
The sight of a body draped over a saddle is always guaranteed to attract attention and this case was no exception. By the time Jennings rode casually into town, a sizable crowd had already gathered in front of the High Point, where the body was laid out on the boardwalk.
Jennings dismounted at the fringe of the crowd , and handing the reins to one of the men standing there, began shouldering his way through the bristling assembly. The outrage he could hear and feel in the group exacerbated his own sense of guilt and he prayed it wouldn’t show on his face.
“What ’s going on here?” he asked, trying to sound calm and authoritative.
Several men voiced approval of the fact the sheriff had now arrived, but it was Stewart who spoke to Jennings directly.
“It ’s old Julio, Sheriff. He’s been murdered.”
Jennings now stood over the covered body and Stewart pulled back the blanket to unveil a grisly sight for which the Sheriff was unprepared. The body had been horribly mutilated —almost to the point of being unrecognizable.
Stewart was pleased at the genuine look of shock on Jennings face. No one present would ever suspect Jennings of this crime.
Jennings turned away, white-faced , and asked weakly, “What happened?”
Stewart replaced the blanket. “ We were riding down by Two Mile Meadow and heard a shot over toward old Julio’s place. We rode over to investigate and we saw Julio on the ground and a man bending over him. At first we thought the man was trying to help him, but as we got closer, we saw what was really happening. What you saw under this blanket was done while Julio was still alive. The poor old mute couldn’t even scream.
Stewart paused for effect, listening as the angry rumble of the voices around him crescendoed. He continued, “When the killer saw us he jumped on his horse and took off, but we recognized him. It was Jeff Havens.”
At this point the crowd voiced its outrage at such a pitch that speaking became pointless. Stewart held up his hands in a silencing gesture. “Please, please.”
Gradually the noise subsided and he resumed, “There ’s something else, Sheriff. I learned today the man who has been stealing T. S. horses is Amado Lopez, and what’s more, I’ve learned Lopez and Havens are hiding out over at Dan Fitzgerald’s place. I suspect Fitzgerald’s hands are not clean either. It’s a rat’s nest of murderers and thieves and we’re counting on you to clean it up.”
With a single voice of rage, the crowd roared its assent. Jennings felt frighteningly out of control, like he was bein g dragged by a team of horses. And he didn’t like the direction they were taking him.
Fogarty had watched the range of emotions that had crossed Jennings ’ face with contemptuous amusement. It had been interesting to see how Stewart had drawn Jennings into the trap and closed it securely behind him. He had to hand it to Stewart; the man was good at what he did. Fogarty experienced a malicious pleasure as he saw the realization of what had happened to him dawn on the young sheriff. Yet, so effectively was he caught, he could not even voice a complaint. The only avenue open to him was to act on Stewart’s every suggestion and give the appearance that he agreed with each one.
The small form of Ollie Shepherd had knifed its way through the crowd and now stood over the body on the ground. The voices of the men grew silent, eager to hear Ollie pronounce his opinion. The old mountain man was well respected in the community, and when he spoke, men usually listened. He knelt and
“What ’s that?”
“Don ’t worry about it. Like I said, you’ve got to trust me. Did anyone else see you besides Ortega?”
“No, just him and he won ’t talk because he doesn’t want anyone to know the information came from him.”
“Good , then we’ll see you in town.” Stewart was vastly pleased. This was turning out to be a very good day.
The sight of a body draped over a saddle is always guaranteed to attract attention and this case was no exception. By the time Jennings rode casually into town, a sizable crowd had already gathered in front of the High Point, where the body was laid out on the boardwalk.
Jennings dismounted at the fringe of the crowd , and handing the reins to one of the men standing there, began shouldering his way through the bristling assembly. The outrage he could hear and feel in the group exacerbated his own sense of guilt and he prayed it wouldn’t show on his face.
“What ’s going on here?” he asked, trying to sound calm and authoritative.
Several men voiced approval of the fact the sheriff had now arrived, but it was Stewart who spoke to Jennings directly.
“It ’s old Julio, Sheriff. He’s been murdered.”
Jennings now stood over the covered body and Stewart pulled back the blanket to unveil a grisly sight for which the Sheriff was unprepared. The body had been horribly mutilated —almost to the point of being unrecognizable.
Stewart was pleased at the genuine look of shock on Jennings face. No one present would ever suspect Jennings of this crime.
Jennings turned away, white-faced , and asked weakly, “What happened?”
Stewart replaced the blanket. “ We were riding down by Two Mile Meadow and heard a shot over toward old Julio’s place. We rode over to investigate and we saw Julio on the ground and a man bending over him. At first we thought the man was trying to help him, but as we got closer, we saw what was really happening. What you saw under this blanket was done while Julio was still alive. The poor old mute couldn’t even scream.
Stewart paused for effect, listening as the angry rumble of the voices around him crescendoed. He continued, “When the killer saw us he jumped on his horse and took off, but we recognized him. It was Jeff Havens.”
At this point the crowd voiced its outrage at such a pitch that speaking became pointless. Stewart held up his hands in a silencing gesture. “Please, please.”
Gradually the noise subsided and he resumed, “There ’s something else, Sheriff. I learned today the man who has been stealing T. S. horses is Amado Lopez, and what’s more, I’ve learned Lopez and Havens are hiding out over at Dan Fitzgerald’s place. I suspect Fitzgerald’s hands are not clean either. It’s a rat’s nest of murderers and thieves and we’re counting on you to clean it up.”
With a single voice of rage, the crowd roared its assent. Jennings felt frighteningly out of control, like he was bein g dragged by a team of horses. And he didn’t like the direction they were taking him.
Fogarty had watched the range of emotions that had crossed Jennings ’ face with contemptuous amusement. It had been interesting to see how Stewart had drawn Jennings into the trap and closed it securely behind him. He had to hand it to Stewart; the man was good at what he did. Fogarty experienced a malicious pleasure as he saw the realization of what had happened to him dawn on the young sheriff. Yet, so effectively was he caught, he could not even voice a complaint. The only avenue open to him was to act on Stewart’s every suggestion and give the appearance that he agreed with each one.
The small form of Ollie Shepherd had knifed its way through the crowd and now stood over the body on the ground. The voices of the men grew silent, eager to hear Ollie pronounce his opinion. The old mountain man was well respected in the community, and when he spoke, men usually listened. He knelt and
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