Donovan by Elmer Kelton

Author:Elmer Kelton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2011-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

8

WEBB SAW LITTLE TO BE GAINED IN TAKING A POSSE OUT on Donovan’s trail, or even in following it himself. Donovan had surely gone across the river hours ago. Moreover, Webb’s possemen were already tired from their fruitless mission.

Webb was still puzzled over that mission. It seemed unlikely the outlaw had gone to all that trouble just in hope he could lead the sheriff astray. If Johnny Willet hadn’t elected to follow the Bronc Tomlin horses, Webb wouldn’t have been out of Dry Fork when the raiders hit the bank. Any number of things could have gone wrong if this had been an actual plan of Donovan’s. Webb felt sure the man had really intended to use those horses in a ride to Rio Escondido. Somehow at the last minute he had switched his plans.

Why? That question kept nagging Webb as he slumped exhausted in his chair at the office and stared absently at a crack in the wall.

Preying on his mind even more was the question of Sandy. That was something else that didn’t make sense. Granted that Sandy had always been hard to handle, more prone than most to take the bit in his teeth and run with it. Granted that it was in his nature to be a rebel. He still wasn’t an outlaw, not a thief, not a robber of banks. Webb conceded that he hadn’t understood his brother. Still, he thought he knew him this well. He thought he had pounded at least that much of his own and his parents’ ideas of right and wrong into the boy’s head.

Webb hadn’t realized how weary he was, having ridden so far, having only dozed occasionally through last night. Sitting still, he dropped off to sleep in the chair. He didn’t awaken until he felt someone’s hand lightly touch his shoulder. Startled, he jerked himself erect, blinking. He was surprised to find that night had come. The office was dark. Outside, lamps glowed in the buildings up and down the street.

“Didn’t mean to drop off to sleep,” Webb said, still a little loggy. “Can’t see you in the dark. Who is it?”

“It’s me, Quince.” Quince Pyburn struck a match and held it. Webb reached to his desk and removed the glass chimney from a lamp. He held the lamp out for Quince to light. He trimmed the burning wick to suit him and set the chimney back in place. Then he rubbed his eyes.

“I feel like a fool, Quince, goin’ off to sleep like this when I ought to be out doin’ somethin’ about Donovan. Only, what could I do?”

Quince pulled up a rawhide chair. “Nothin’. You’d just as well catch up on your rest. At least that will do you some good.”

Webb stared somberly at the dancing shadows cast on the wall by the flickering lamp. “You’ve heard what they said about Sandy?”

Quince frowned, taking a long time before he came up with an answer. When he did, it was straight and honest. “I’ve heard. I’m not sayin’ it was him.

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