Larry and Stretch 9 by Marshall Grover

Author:Marshall Grover
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: winchester rifle, colt 45, piccadilly publishing, larry and stretch western, marshall grover, larry and stretch, cowboys and gunslingers, american west ebook, len meares, the old us west ebook
Publisher: Piccadilly

The reception accorded the Texans and their prisoners at the county law office left much to be desired, from Larry’s point of view. Ed Loomis’s attitude was belligerent right from the start, and the deputy took his cue from his chief.

“Any arrests that’s made in this here territory,” Loomis coldly informed Larry, “I’ll make ’em! You’re no lawman. You ain’t even a sworn-in posse man!”

Somehow, the drifters managed to keep a rein on their tempers. They stood by Loomis’s desk in the shabby office, building smokes and, with as much patience as they could muster, endured Loomis’s bitter tirade. Murch, Wilson and Austin had been freed of their bonds and were positioned with their backs to the rear wall, interjecting heatedly, demanding the return of their weapons. Kellogg squatted by the street door, scowling at the tall Texans. When his chief paused for breath the deputy threw in his ten cents’ worth.

“You whupped the tar outa Murch and his pards, it looks like,” he observed. “I reckon that’s enough. No reason you should arrest ’em.”

“I’ll be glad to tell you the real reason we arrested ’em,” drawled Larry, “just as soon as your boss quits hollerin’.”

“I’ll take no lip from you!” fumed Loomis.

“Are you gonna listen?” demanded Larry.

“Say your piece,” growled the sheriff, “and say it fast.”

“My partner and me,” frowned Larry, “we scouted the bend where Del Weaver was ambushed ...” He went on to describe the all-important boot-mark and, while talking, he kept his eyes on the three hardcases, studying their reaction. Murch and Wilson suddenly became impassive, but the same couldn’t be said for Austin. The big man was badly scared. “That print,” he concluded, “matches up with what you’ll find in the big hombre’s boot—a bent nail stuck under the heel.”

There was a tense silence. Kellogg broke it with a pensive remark.

“Could be coincidence, Ed, but we oughtn’t take a chance on it.”

“Austin—siddown,” ordered Loomis. “I want to take a look under your boots.”

“Couple loco saddlebums,” scowled Murch, “tryin’ to play detective.”

“Facts is facts,” said Kellogg. “I’m curious to know how and when Austin left a boot print way out to White Rock Bend.”

“You ain’t half as curious as me,” breathed Loomis. “Siddown, Austin!”

Austin flopped into a chair. Loomis knelt and examined the underpart of his boots, paying special attention to the embedded nail.

“All right, Austin,” growled Loomis. “What’s your story?”

The burly man licked his lips, shrugged and mumbled: “It don’t prove nothin’. What I mean—I been out to the Bend often enough, and I could easy leave tracks out there, but it don’t foller I was there when Weaver got jumped.”

“The track I found,” said Larry, “was fresh. Just fresh enough to be made at the same time Weaver was killed.”

“How about Murch and Wilson?” Kellogg asked his chief.

“We ain’t been near White Rock Bend in a coon’s age,” declared Murch. He scowled defiantly at Larry. “Let’s hear you prove we was!”

Larry ignored him, and concentrated all his attention on Austin.

“He ain’t the smartest killer I ever saw,” he told Loomis.

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