Into a Dark Place: A Western Adventure (A Sean Prentis Western Book 3) by Stuart G. Yates

Author:Stuart G. Yates [Yates, Stuart G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DS Productions
Published: 2022-03-14T06:00:00+00:00

Sheriff Tenson took down a Winchester from its rack, checked its load and worked the lever. “Trouble follows you everywhere you go, Prentis,” he said in a tired voice after listening to what Prentis had to say.

“It wasn’t my intention.”

“Was it ever?”

Tenson brushed past him and went outside. It was mid-morning, people already on the streets, riders and wagons moving along as they normally did. “That waiter? Crisp. He said he’d seen this fella riding out of town?”

“As if the Devil himself was on his heels.”

“Maybe he is.”

They strode down the street together. Prentis glanced back. Grensham’s Hotel was nothing more than an outline from this distance and he hoped Isabelle was the patient kind. Jorgenson had said he would check with her so Prentis tried to calm himself as they approached Dunster’s merchandise store.

There was nobody about. And, as they stepped inside, they discovered no body on the floor.

Prentis rushed over to where he’d felled his would-be assailant with a spade. “He was here.”

“Well he ain’t now,” said Tenson and, lifting his head, shouted, “Dunster? Is you here?”

They waited. Only silence came back at them.

Drawing the assailant’s revolver, Prentis motioned towards the bead curtain. “He must have gone through the back.”

“Take it slow,” said Tenson, edging forward. He went to the curtain and gently parted the beads with the Winchester. “Dunster?”

Prentis went with him into the back room.

Dunster was propped up in the corner, the heavy blade of a Bowie-style knife protruding from his chest. His head fell to his chest, his eyes stared. He was dead.

“Damn,” breathed Tenson, looking around.

“He had a Walker,” said Prentis. “That S-O-B must have taken it.”

Moving across to the rear door, Tenson pushed it open with his boot and snapped his head left and right. “Did you recognise him?”

“Not at all.”

“Whoever he was, he meant business. Killing Dunster like that …” Shaking his head, Tenson pushed back his hat and gave Prentis a long, lingering look. “You think they are more assassins sent by Melling?”

“Almost certainly. The way he was asking me questions about me before I hit him. He must have been as strong as an ox to get up after I laid him out with that iron spade.”

“And Dunster? He had a gun, you say?”

“A Walker Colt. But he was shaken up quite a lot. I reckon he was close to fainting.”

“And yet you left him?”

“Not exactly. Crisp was here.”

“Crisp? Jeez, Prentis, he can’t be much more than sixteen! What were you thinking?”

Running a hand through his hair, Prentis blew out a rattling breath. “Dear God … I wasn’t thinking much at all.”

“The problem we have now is one, where’s the killer gone, two, where’s his pal and three, where in the hell is Crisp? This is a mess, Prentis, as is everything when you’re involved.”

“Sheriff, I mean to sort all of this out, I promise you. I’m planning on leaving for Nebraska, taking Isabelle to meet her husband in Lincoln.”

“Isabelle? Hell’s bells, Prentis, it don’t take you long to get your feet under the table, does it.

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