Free The Bridge by Robert Knott Page B

say?”
    “They’d been dispatched to look for a party that robbed and murdered some settlers on the trail.”
    I moved away from the counter and Virgil and I walked a little closer to Jasper.
    “He offer up any details about that?” I said.
    Jasper shook his head.
    “No.”
    “Why do you think he’s full of shit?” I said.
    “I asked him a few questions about his outfit, where all he’d been stationed. He was plum full of shit.”
    “What did he tell you?”
    “Said he was from Colorado,” Jasper said. “From Fort Lewis. I told him, well, hell, I knew Big Bill of Fort Lewis.”
    “Bill?” Virgil said.
    “Lieutenant Colonel William Lewis was a friend of mine,” Jasper said. “Fort Lewis was named after him.”
    Virgil looked to me.
    “So what gave you suspicion?” I said.
    “He told me he didn’t know Bill, but that he’d met him at the fort in the past. Ha .”
    “And you didn’t believe him?” Virgil said.
    “Nope.”
    Virgil looked at me.
    “Why?” I asked.
    “Bill never set foot in Fort Lewis. He was dead. He got killed before the goddamn fort was even built,” Jasper said. “They just constructed the fort and put his damn name on top the gate.”
    “This soldier fella,” Virgil said. “He the only one you talked to?”
    “Yep,” Jasper said. “And like I tell ya. He was no soldier, he was a dumb shit. Dressers, I figure, the lot of ’em.”

— 22 —
    V irgil and I left Dag’s Hotel and walked in the rain toward the tracks.
    “By God,” Virgil said.
    “What do you allow?” I said.
    “Think the old man might not be nuttier than a pecan pie,” Virgil said.
    “Me, too.”
    “There was something about them boys,” I said. “Something about them didn’t seem right when I saw them riding into town.”
    “Like what?”
    “Don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t really think about it then. They were rough-looking. Didn’t give it much thought, but in hindsight and with Old Man Jasper’s summation I suspect they are no-goods that are up to no good.”
    “’Spect you’re right,” Virgil said.
    “What kind of no-good is the question,” I said.
    “Is,” Virgil said.
    “So these boys come into town, haggard like they were, and tell people they’re on a searching party?”
    Virgil nodded.
    “What do they gain by that?” I said.
    “Validatin’ their existence,” Virgil said.
    Virgil and I made our way to the sheriff’s office. When we arrived, Book was sitting behind the desk and Clay Chastain, Sheriff Driskill’s senior deputy that had been laid up with a stomach bug, was sitting across from him.
    We could see Bolger through the door separating the office from the cells. He was lying on the bunk, facing the wall.
    “Howdy, Virgil, Everett,” Chastain said with his extra-long drawl. “Sorry as all hell I been under the damn weather, but I’m back. Back in the damn weather now.”
    Chastain was a tough, rawboned man from Dallas, Texas. He had a scar across his face that traveled from above his eyebrow to the top of his jawbone. Chastain had an edge of intimidation to his demeanor that worked in his favor as an officer.
    “Is some weather,” Virgil said. “Ain’t it?”
    Chastain nodded.
    “Damn sure is,” Chastain said.
    “Good you’re back,” Virgil said.
    “Book said you were looking for some soldiers?” Chastain said.
    “We were,” Virgil said.
    “Find ’em?”
    “Didn’t,” Virgil said.
    “Think they pulled out,” I said.
    Chastain looked to Book.
    “Book said something about settlers being attacked and the soldiers were on the hunt.”
    “That’s the word they shared with a few people around town,” Virgil said.
    Chastain looked back and forth between Virgil and me.
    “You mean you two weren’t notified?” Chastain said. “No telegraph?”
    “Weren’t,” I said.
    “That don’t make sense,” Chastain said.
    “That’s how we see it, too,” I said.
    Chastain nodded a little and sat back in his chair. He looked over to