Violent Sunday by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-10-26T04:00:00+00:00

21

Rawlings and Duggan did their best to glare holes in each other. The men with Rawlings didn’t seem quite as hostile as he was, but it was clear they didn’t feel very friendly toward Duggan, either. For his part, Frank remained impassive. Beside him, Ed MacDonald was tense.

“It could’ve been some of this bunch that bushwhacked us last night, Frank,” he said quietly.

But not quietly enough so that Rawlings didn’t overhear him. “That’s a damned lie!” he exclaimed. “We heard about what happened, but none of us were anywhere near the Slash D last night.”

Now that the argument was out in the open, MacDonald edged his horse forward a little. “What about that fella with you?” he asked, gesturing toward Beaumont.

“You mean Tye?”

So that was the name he was using, Frank thought.

“I’ve seen him around,” MacDonald said. “He works for Kane and Bramlett, doesn’t he? For that matter, where’s Bramlett?”

“I can speak for myself,” Beaumont said tersely. “Yes, I ride for Kane and Bramlett. At least, I did. Will Bramlett is dead.”

That announcement brought mutters of surprise from the crowd.

“He was shot in that ambush you’re so eager to blame on us,” Beaumont went on. “He died early this morning, and we buried him out on his spread. Now tell me, if any of our bunch was responsible for the ambush, why was Will shot? That just doesn’t make sense.”

“He could’ve been hit by accident when your friends were tryin’ to cut down my riders,” Duggan said.

“That’s not the way it happened,” Beaumont insisted.

Frank had known from the blood on the grass that one of the men who had been about to cut the Slash D fence had been hit. And it could have been an accident, as Duggan said.

But Frank had been in many gun battles, and it seemed to him that when the men hidden in the trees had opened up with that vicious first volley, they hadn’t cared who they might hit. Surely if the bushwhackers had been friends of Kane and Bramlett, they would have been more careful.

But if they hadn’t been part of the loose-knit organization of small ranchers and farmers, then who in blazes had they been? Frank still couldn’t answer that question.

Beaumont wasn’t through. “Listen to me,” he said. “When Chris brought Will back to the ranch last night, he told me he didn’t have any idea who had started all the shooting. He thought it was just the Slash D riders.”

“It wasn’t us,” MacDonald said. “Some fellas threw down on us from the trees along the creek.”

Beaumont nodded. “That’s what I’m hearing now. But I tell you Chris and Will didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“And neither did any of the rest of us!” Rawlings said. “How do we know your men ain’t lyin’ about the whole thing, Duggan?”

“I’ve got two men with bullet holes in ’em, you damned fool!” roared Duggan. “What do you think happened, they shot themselves?”

Rawlings bristled and moved his hand closer to his gun. Everyone else

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