EDGE: Eve of Evil (Edge series Book 28) by George G. Gilman

Author:George G. Gilman [Gilman, George G.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Lobo Publications
Published: 2014-03-18T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

THERE was a pile of recently cut and split logs behind the stove. As the half-breed moved closer to the helpless Lassiter, the sardonic words he spoke captured suspicious attention. But, once he had leaned his rifle against the wall and started to stoke the fire in the stove, the eyes of all the Bar-M men returned hurriedly to locate O’Keefe and Angel North.

For what seemed a long time—was perhaps little more than a minute—the priest held his entire new audience as he launched into an amplification of his reference to the Nativity.

During this time, the half-breed continued to add logs to the stove and draw flames from the embers. And the sheepmen came deeper into the livery to share in the benefit of the heat. But then interest began to wane, as most of the hard-bitten cowhands scowled their scorn for what O’Keefe was saying, and moved out of the stalls to form a group in front of the stove.

Cole Lassiter was among those who continued to be enthralled by the priest’s words—cursing and glowering at any of his men who wandered across his restricted line of vision to O’Keefe. Four cowhands maintained an equally high level of interest. One of them crossed himself when O’Keefe unfastened his topcoat to reveal the clerical garb beneath.

Edge listened to the earnestly spoken words—without appearing to show any interest—for just long enough to ensure that the priest had the presence of mind not to refer to the killings.

‘C.B. Wilder, foreman of the Bar-M,’ a voice cut in on the half-breed’s thoughts. ‘Your name’s Edge?’

He spoke the name as if he were not entirely certain he had got it correct

‘Sure.’

The half-breed looked at the man who had dropped to his haunches beside him. He was in his mid-forties with a darkly tanned, rough hewn face cut with many lines that all curved downward. He was a sad looking man. Short but broadly built with a suggestion of great physical strength. Little natural intelligence was visible in his dark eyes.

‘Don’t guess you know anythin’ about doctorin’?’ the melancholic man asked morosely.

‘No, feller. But I figure your boss is in a bad way.’

‘We know that!’ another man growled.

Except for the priest, the woman and their five-man attentive audience, everyone else in the stable was gathered around the stove. Edge and the sheepmen were closest to the source of heat. Apart from Wilder squatting beside the half-breed, all the others were standing.

Wilder glowered at the speaker and lowered his voice. ‘He’s too old to be out in this kinda weather. From what that crazy priest’s been sayin’, I guess you know why he come. Lookin’ for Maria, his daughter.’

‘It ain’t just a chill he’s got, feller,’ Edge said evenly.

Wilder nodded. ‘Heart seizure or somethin’.’

‘Can’t be nothin’ wrong with his heart,’ Doug Smith rasped venomously. ‘He ain’t never had one.’

‘That ain’t so, Doug!’ Craig countered, with a tone of sincerity that indicated he was not moved to speak entirely because of the dangerous looks directed at his partner by some of the Bar-M hands.

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