EDGE: Montana Melodrama by George G. Gilman

Author:George G. Gilman [Gilman, George G.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: LOBO Publications
Published: 2015-11-19T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

THE killing was a totally cold-blooded one.

Like every other man within the confines of the derelict army post, Craig Campbell was dressed western style. Hats varied in shape and color and coats, shirts, pants, and spurred boots likewise; some outfits well-fitting and others too large or too small. But every man carried a revolver in a way best suited to him.

Craig Campbell drew his army Colt from a hip holster on the left side of his gunbelt. Without undue speed, but with a certain deliberation that did not extend to slowness. Then he brought it swiftly to the aim and squeezed the trigger. This while the woman grieving for Roy was still closing with the sagging JJ, too intent upon abusing him and finishing him off to be aware of anything else.

When the .45-caliber bullet smashed into her head she pulled up short and became rigid, dead on her feet for part of a second. Then she dropped her man's gun and collapsed limply to the ground, an area of darkness rapidly spreading in her blond hair.

It was as if she were forgotten the moment after she was dead. And no one moved to align her with the other three corpses. All attention was di­rected at her killer as he holstered the Colt and stepped forward, motioning for the still-conscious JJ to be lowered to the ground.

This was done and the Campbell brothers hunkered down to either side-of the softly cursing liveryman. Nobody else closed in on the three of them. Some backed off a pace or so, as if made nervous by the brutal killing of the distraught woman.

"You sayin' the Ridgeville bank was hit, JJ?" Craig Campbell asked.

"You friggin' know it, you—"

The back of Craig's hand cracked hard against one of JJ's flabby cheeks. "I ain't talkin' because I like the sound of my own voice, stupid!"

"Nor yours!" Ewan snarled, like a man eager to show he was as hard as another.

From his secret vantage point, the now impas­sive half-breed could see the Campbell brothers were big men. As big as any lumberman back in Ridgeville—except for the giant named George— but he could make out little else about them. At the distance from which he watched the harsh in­terrogation, figures were no more than dark forms on the fringe of the fire and lamplight.

"And you friggin' killed Bart Bolt and the Trasks!" JJ countered. His head wrenched to the side with the blow, but he refused to cry out in Pain. "You or some of this crud you run with up here!"

"Crud, are we!" Ewan roared, and brought hack an arm to throw a punch into JJ's fearless

face.

Craig said, "Quit it, Ewan," in an even voice and it was sufficient to cause his brother to halt the move. Then he drew his Colt again. The click of its hammer had the impact of thunder in the stillness of the army post. Everyone present momentarily froze, as if under a spell. Then a burning log on the fire cracked and the spell was broken.

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