She had auburn hair which she wore long so it fell to her narrow shoulders in luxuriant waves, framing a face that was also long and was finely moulded with features that were curved rather than angular.
Her unlined complexion was blemish free, her eyes cornflower blue and her teeth very white in the light from the doorway. She wore an unrevealing but figure hugging plain black dress that was high at the neck and brushed her unadorned shoes at the hem, with sleeves that reached to her wrists. Her only jewellery was a plain gold wedding band. 71
Kitty Raine was, Edge thought as she briefly abandoned the scowl to show him a pale imitation of the smile she and directed toward another man early this morning, certainly a beautiful young widow, suited to black.
As she came toward the doorway Slocum started to complain: ‘Kitty, you’ve already been told by – ‘
She reached the threshold, pulled up short, vented a strangled shriek and pointed a trembling arm into the workshop as she rasped in a horrified tone: ‘Who . . ? Whatever in God’s name happened to him?’
‘Most likely it’s a farmer named Fred Drayton.’ Slocum replied grimly. ‘He was beaten to death. And if the sight of him scares you, get ready to see a lot worse if anyone rubs Shannon up the wrong way.’
She shook her head, long tresses flying, swallowed hard and swept her gaze from the corpse to Slocum then Edge. For long moments she seemed on the point of being chastened by the undertaker’s warning. But then she displaced horror with narrow eyed, thin lipped wilfulness and the look on her pallid face wavered only slightly before it became hard set. There was no tremor in her voice when she countered:
‘You think a man like Shannon will simply walk away, calm as you please, when he’s got what he came here for?’
She switched her wide eyed gaze constantly between the two men, as anxious to convince the one who had already turned her down as Edge who was hearing her plea for the first time.
Now she stabbed a finger at Edge, but addressed Slocum. ‘Ask him. He was there in the law office last night. He said Shannon shot Phil just for the hell of it. And that’s what he does, isn’t it? He kills people for a living and when there’s no living to be made out of it, he kills for twisted pleasure. So how can you – ‘
‘Kitty!’ Slocum snatched the cheroot from between his clenched teeth when he barked her name and stopped her in mid-flow as he advanced on the doorway. As she struggled to pick up the thread of what she had been saying, Edge asked:
‘Has Shannon said what he came back to Dalton Springs for?’
72
‘No!’ Slocum snapped the response in the manner of an impatient dismissal of a trivial side issue. Then, to the woman: ‘We’re not cowards, Kitty. There’s not a man in this town who’ll be found wanting when the time’s right. But we can’t go off half cocked. Not against the likes of Shannon and his bunch of –
‘Three lousy rotten gunmen and a whore!’ Kitty Raine jeered. ‘And a whole townful of real heroic men was all they had to scare to take over Dalton Springs!’
Her contempt was powerful enough to force a fine spray of salvia from her trembling lips.
Slocum hooked a hand around the edge of the door and his glower implied he would have preferred to launch the fist at the woman’s face rather than slam the door closed when he snarled: ‘Go to hell, Mrs Raine! It’s sure where you’ve been bound ever since you took up with – ‘
Slocum elected to curtail the taunt before the crash of the door into the frame would have cut off what he was saying. In the moonlight which was all that held back the darkness from the alley after the light from the workshop lamp was blocked off, the woman’s rapid breathing was enough to let Edge know how deeply the half completed accusation had struck into her sensibilities.
But she recovered in moments and as Edge made to tip his hat to her she got a firmer grip on
Her unlined complexion was blemish free, her eyes cornflower blue and her teeth very white in the light from the doorway. She wore an unrevealing but figure hugging plain black dress that was high at the neck and brushed her unadorned shoes at the hem, with sleeves that reached to her wrists. Her only jewellery was a plain gold wedding band. 71
Kitty Raine was, Edge thought as she briefly abandoned the scowl to show him a pale imitation of the smile she and directed toward another man early this morning, certainly a beautiful young widow, suited to black.
As she came toward the doorway Slocum started to complain: ‘Kitty, you’ve already been told by – ‘
She reached the threshold, pulled up short, vented a strangled shriek and pointed a trembling arm into the workshop as she rasped in a horrified tone: ‘Who . . ? Whatever in God’s name happened to him?’
‘Most likely it’s a farmer named Fred Drayton.’ Slocum replied grimly. ‘He was beaten to death. And if the sight of him scares you, get ready to see a lot worse if anyone rubs Shannon up the wrong way.’
She shook her head, long tresses flying, swallowed hard and swept her gaze from the corpse to Slocum then Edge. For long moments she seemed on the point of being chastened by the undertaker’s warning. But then she displaced horror with narrow eyed, thin lipped wilfulness and the look on her pallid face wavered only slightly before it became hard set. There was no tremor in her voice when she countered:
‘You think a man like Shannon will simply walk away, calm as you please, when he’s got what he came here for?’
She switched her wide eyed gaze constantly between the two men, as anxious to convince the one who had already turned her down as Edge who was hearing her plea for the first time.
Now she stabbed a finger at Edge, but addressed Slocum. ‘Ask him. He was there in the law office last night. He said Shannon shot Phil just for the hell of it. And that’s what he does, isn’t it? He kills people for a living and when there’s no living to be made out of it, he kills for twisted pleasure. So how can you – ‘
‘Kitty!’ Slocum snatched the cheroot from between his clenched teeth when he barked her name and stopped her in mid-flow as he advanced on the doorway. As she struggled to pick up the thread of what she had been saying, Edge asked:
‘Has Shannon said what he came back to Dalton Springs for?’
72
‘No!’ Slocum snapped the response in the manner of an impatient dismissal of a trivial side issue. Then, to the woman: ‘We’re not cowards, Kitty. There’s not a man in this town who’ll be found wanting when the time’s right. But we can’t go off half cocked. Not against the likes of Shannon and his bunch of –
‘Three lousy rotten gunmen and a whore!’ Kitty Raine jeered. ‘And a whole townful of real heroic men was all they had to scare to take over Dalton Springs!’
Her contempt was powerful enough to force a fine spray of salvia from her trembling lips.
Slocum hooked a hand around the edge of the door and his glower implied he would have preferred to launch the fist at the woman’s face rather than slam the door closed when he snarled: ‘Go to hell, Mrs Raine! It’s sure where you’ve been bound ever since you took up with – ‘
Slocum elected to curtail the taunt before the crash of the door into the frame would have cut off what he was saying. In the moonlight which was all that held back the darkness from the alley after the light from the workshop lamp was blocked off, the woman’s rapid breathing was enough to let Edge know how deeply the half completed accusation had struck into her sensibilities.
But she recovered in moments and as Edge made to tip his hat to her she got a firmer grip on
Similar Books
