Silent Witness by James Clay

Author:James Clay [Clay, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robert Hale
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

While riding toward Herb Brawley’s Circle B ranch, Dehner noticed the difference between his two companions. Woody’s face reflected panic. Sheriff Clint Mead appeared angry. Dehner figured that the sheriff had a tough enough job keeping a town safe and trying to solve the murder of the Scotts. Now, a band of fools were making his job even tougher.

‘We might be too late.’ Woody pulled up his horse as they approached the ranch. ‘I don’t see nobody around . . . I know where they’ve gone.’

‘Where?’ Mead demanded.

‘A cottonwood jus’ east of here; that’s where the boss man does all the hangin’s.’

‘You mean Brawley hangs men whenever he gets the notion?’ Dehner asked.

‘He don’t do it regular like, jus’ now and agin.’

‘Take us to the cottonwood,’ Clint ordered.

Their horses were tired but still managed a fast gallop. They didn’t have much further to go. Within a few minutes they could hear a man’s frantic screams.

‘I brung the law,’ Woody shouted as they rode up to a clearing where ten men were moving about in an artificially calm manner around a large tree. Most of them turned and seemed to take an interest in the newcomers while expressing no emotion. A small bantam rooster of a man was giving orders as a rope was tossed over a heavy tree branch and a prisoner with his hands tied was being lifted onto a horse. A large overweight gent watched the proceedings with a Sharps-Borchardt .45 rifle in his hands.

As the three newcomers pulled up Sheriff Mead shouted at the bantam rooster.

‘What’s goin’ on here, Herb?’

‘Nothin’ that concerns you.’

‘I think maybe it does.’ The sheriff’s horse began to blow and the lawman used it as an opportunity to change his approach. ‘Sorry about your Morgan, Herb . . . a mighty fine animal.’

‘Thanks, Clint, that’s good of you.’

The mood seemed to soften. Dehner reckoned that Herb and Clint, while not close friends, had known each other for years and shared the comradeship of men who had lived hard lives in a hard land.

Mead pointed at the man on horseback with his hands tied in front of him.

‘I unnerstand this fool ain’t the first jasper whose neck you stretched.’

Brawley shrugged his shoulders. ‘Only two others; one I caught trying to break into my safe, the other shot another one of my hands in the back ’cause of an argument over a female. You were outta town both times and you always order your deputy not to leave Candler when you’re gone, so I handled it myself.’

‘I appreciate it, Herb, but times are changin’.’ The sheriff patted his horse’s neck, then he continued: ‘We gotta do stuff closer to the letter of the law.’

Brawley’s voice took on an edge.

‘One more fool kickin’ his feet in the air ain’t gonna hurt that law of yours none.’

The man holding the Sharps-Borchardt grabbed at the chance to shatter the good will between his boss and the lawman.

‘We was doin’ fine without ya, Sheriff. So you and your friend just turn your horses around and let us take care of bizness.

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