Wild Read Free

bandanna, wrapping it around the burnt coins and stuffing it in his pocket. “The colonel’s sister is a heavy sleeper.”
    “As a matter of fact,” Rose said, standing in the doorway holding a silver tray with two steaming ceramic mugs, “I sometimes have trouble getting to sleep, and I took a little laudanum last night.” Kearney took the mugs, passed one to Matt and sipped from the other.
    “It’s good, Rose. Thank you.” Rose retreated from the room as silently as she came, and the deputy turned back to Matt.
    “I think we should question the boy,” Matt said.
    John was outside again, leading the horse to the barn around the back of the house. Kearney hailed him, and he turned around and waved them towards the barn.
    “Got to get Francis fed and watered, if you don’t mind,” he said, “Then I got to get to school.” He passed the reins to Kearney and dragged the heavy wooden door open. The smell of hay and animal poured out of the barn.
    “Just a couple of questions,” Matt assured. “You hear any gunshots last night?”
    “Can’t say as I did, deputy. I stayed at a friend’s house until this morning, when his pa came around to send me back to Ma. After she found…” the boy trailed off.
    “Alright. Do you know anyone who might have had it in for your uncle? Seen him arguing with anyone recently?”
    “No,” the boy shook his head. “He broke up a gunfight at the tavern a few nights ago, and he’s always throwing drunks in lockup for the night. That’s about all I know, sir. Uncle Al pretty much keeps his work to himself.”
    “Well, you seem like a bright boy,” Matt said. “Keep your ears and eyes open. People say things around children they won’t say to the law, you understand?”
    John nodded.
    “Give our regards to your mother,” Kearney said.
    John turned back to the horse, and the two men walked off.
    “So what do we do now, deputy?” Kearney looked up at the sky, shading his eyes against the sun.
    “Let’s get ourselves a bit of early lunch.”
    * * * *
    The taproom was dimly lit and quiet except for a bit of muffled conversation and the crunch of peanut shells beneath the men’s boots as they stepped through the door. It was empty except for the barkeep, a serving girl and three patrons at a table near the far wall. They’d stopped to pick up Matt’s guns on the way, and when Matt saw the men, he knew why. He had seen their faces on wanted posters ever since crossing the Ohio state line.
    “That’s Black Tom Catch and his boys over there,” Kearney said as he made a beeline for the counter. The bartender, a tall, grizzled old man, wandered over. Kearney spoke briefly with him, set some money on the counter, and gestured toward a table. The bartender walked off, and Kearney led Matt over to the table.
    “I don’t think there’s anything bad happens between here and Arizona that Black Tom doesn’t have a hand in, or at least intimate knowledge of,” Kearney said. “Half the outlaws ‘round these parts have ridden with him at one time or another. He’s got too many friends ‘round here for me to have him tried and hanged.”
    “Why not just shoot him?”
    “Well now, then I’d be no better than him, now would I?” Kearney grinned up at the buxom young serving girl who came to the side of their table with two large mugs of beer and plates of tortillas, chicken, salsa, and cheese.
    “We can, however,” he continued, toasting Matt with his mug, “Stir him up a bit and see what he knows about the colonel.” They rolled the chicken and fixings up in the tortillas and ate and drank in silence. When they were finished, they gestured to the barkeep with their empty mugs and he sent the serving girl over with fresh beer. They sipped the full mugs down a bit and without a word, got up together and walked over to the outlaws’ table.
    “Afternoon, Tom,” Kearney said, nodding to the three hard-looking men. Their faces were worn, stubbled, and flecked with dust