Creed's Law by Kerry Newcomb

Author:Kerry Newcomb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group
Published: 2011-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

11

The morning was still young when Billy made his first stop at the jail to check on Rhodes and bring breakfast to the marshal and his prisoner. They’d already heard the story of the fight at the Flying Dragon from Krait, who had dropped by to pick up a coat he’d left behind. The fire in the potbelly was built up and a pot of water was boiling, thanks to the ex-deputy, so all Billy had to do was add coffee grounds.

Goretti sat huddled in his cell. He seemed withdrawn, lost in his own thoughts. Rhodes was in a foul mood and getting grumpier by the minute.

“You could’ve got your head busted and I’m lyin’ here like a damn useless … useless …” He tried to think of a damn useless what, and sputtered to a stop.

“We could always put you down,” Billy suggested. “They shoot horses, you know.”

The marshal’s face fell. “Dad burn it,” he grumped. “I swear, but there’s times when I think that’d be the best—” He stopped short, glared at Billy. “You reckon you could get that coffee ready sometime before the turn of the century, or am I gonna have to wait ’till I can walk fer some?”

Marshal and prisoner had their morning coffee and watched Billy oil and clean his revolver. He worked the cylinder, checked the hammer action, and finally loaded the weapon with a .45 center-fire cartridge in each chamber.

“I been down to the warehouse, twice,” Rhodes said, watching Anthem work. He appreciated a man who took care of his weapon. “But you might as well go look around fer yourself, if you’re bound to. Won’t help much, far as I can see, but can’t hurt.”

Goretti hadn’t said a word since the conversation had turned to Melinda’s murder.

“What about it, Angelo?” Billy asked softly. “Still don’t want to tell who you were with that night?”

The Italian stared at his plate and didn’t say a word.

“Stubborn as that damn mule of mine,” Rhodes grumbled. “Dumber, too. At least Absalom’s got enough sense not to kill itself.”

“I do not want to die, Marshal,” Goretti said. “I will if I have to, but I want very badly to live.” His eyes filled with anguished pleading, he looked at each of them in turn. “Maybe I’ll change my mind when I stand in the shadow of the noose. But maybe, maybe, you can find another way to save Angelo Goretti’s poor scrawny neck, than at the expense of someone’s reputation.”

“Ahhh!” Rhodes gave up, snorting in disgust.

Billy rose and dropped the weapon into its holster. “You do make it hard on a man, Goretti.”

“I’m sorry. I—”

“Never mind. Don’t bother,” Billy said. “I’ll be back in an hour or two. Keep off your feet, Marshal. I’ll stop by Bannon’s on my way back. And the least you can do,” he added, pointing at Goretti, “is clean up the place. And for God’s sake, keep an eye out and lock yourself up if anybody comes by.”

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