Crooked M Killings by Frank Ellis Evans

Author:Frank Ellis Evans [Evans, Frank Ellis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robert Hale
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Coulson

Reuben Kane had ridden hard trailing Sal McIntyre. It had been pretty easy to follow her. Basically he kept his ears open and followed the body count, knowing that she was trailing Cassidy’s men with revenge on her mind. He was glad to reach Redwood and he wearily dismounted before tying his horse to the rail. He was standing outside the saloon and his intention was to rid himself of the cloying dust in his throat by sinking a beer, but first he surveyed the street. People were going about their everyday business and Mr Dawson was making neat stacks of sacks of flour outside the emporium. The livery stable boy was leading a sleek black stallion into the stable, which meant that someone else had just arrived in town. A middle-aged woman was walking hand in hand with a little girl.

Suddenly there was a shot from somewhere down the street. Reuben’s right hand instinctively went for his gun and rested on the butt, ready for action. He was the only one to show any concern. A few seconds elapsed and there was another shot. The residents of Redwood still appeared unmoved and continued with their routines as if the shots had never been fired.

In truth, as Sal had already discovered, a couple of shots seemed as commonplace here as a horse passing down the main street. Reuben relaxed then walked thoughtfully into the saloon and ordered a beer.

‘Comin’ right up, sir. That all?’

‘For the moment.’

Reuben leaned on the bar and looked at the reflection in the big mirror. He drained the glass in one long draught, washing the dust of the ride from his throat, then he smiled at the barman.

‘Tell me something. Has there been a lone woman riding into town this last day or so? ’Bout thirty or so. Slim, tall an’ black hair.’

The barman looked warily at him. Redwood wasn’t the sort of town where you gave information about people without checking who was asking and why. He deliberately avoided eye contact and stared with studied concentration at the glass in his hand as he answered.

‘Who wants to know?’

‘Oh, just an old friend. I’ve got some news for her from back home.’

The barman continued to examine the glass which he was now polishing as if his life depended on it and he thought for a couple of seconds before answering.

‘Can’t say I’ve noticed anyone like that,’ he lied. A lone woman arriving in Redwood was news. He was fully aware of Sal’s arrival but he considered, for reasons of self-preservation, that it was none of his business.

Reuben had picked up on the slight hesitation and the reluctance to make eye contact and he knew that the man was prevaricating.

Sal was in Redwood. He was certain of it. It was a pensive Reuben Kane who walked through the saloon doors out into the heat and the brilliant brightness of the street.

Reuben’s routine – and it was one which had been responsible for saving his life on

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