Free Journey into Violence by William W. Johnstone

ma’am. But they’ll swear in court that Lowery was bending over her body, and him all covered in gore.”
    Kate was silent for a few moments, then said, “Sheriff Hinkle, Hank Lowery is incapable of such a crime. He’s a gentleman and not one to seek the company of fancy women.”
    â€œWas he a gentleman when he killed all them folks in the Longdale Massacre? I wondered where I’d heard the name before, but then I remembered. Twelve men dead in as many seconds.”
    â€œHe was a young man avenging the murder of his brother,” Kate said. “I would expect him to do the same for me.”
    â€œThat may be the case, Mrs. Kerrigan, but I believe Lowery murdered Sarah Hollis for a reason I have not yet established. I plan to hang him, ma’am.”
    â€œAnd I tell you again that Hank Lowery could not commit such a crime,” Kate said.
    Hinkle rose to his feet. “Ma’am, when I was a boy there was a man in our town who was a church deacon, read his Bible every day, sheltered the poor, and fed the hungry. Everybody agreed he was a fine man and an upstanding member of the community. Well, one night something snapped inside him and he took a wood ax and murdered his wife, her elderly mother, and his three children. Then he cut his own throat.”
    The sheriff stepped to the door. “What I mean by all that, Mrs. Kerrigan, is this. Any man is capable of murder, no matter who he is or what people think he is.”
    â€œCan I see him?” Kate asked.
    â€œCertainly ma’am. Any time between now and the hanging.”
    â€œHe won’t hang, Sheriff Hinkle. I can assure you of that.”
    â€œWhatever you say, Mrs. Kerrigan. Whatever you say.” Hinkle stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
    * * *
    â€œI never trusted him, Kate, and now you know why.” Frank Cobb tried the morning coffee and made a face. “Is there anyone in Dodge who knows how to make a decent cup of coffee?”
    â€œThe coffee is fine. Tobacco and whiskey have burned out your taste buds, Frank.” Kate set her cup on the saucer. She wore a tightly fitted sky blue dress with a bustle of the largest kind that had made the trip from the Kerrigan ranch carefully folded in a trunk behind the seat of the chuck wagon. Her red hair was swept up and pinned, set off by a tiny hat in the current fashion of the well-to-do Texas belles. “Though I will admit that I’ve tasted better. Jazmin Salas has spoiled us.”
    Trace said, “Did the sheriff say why Hank murdered the girl, Ma?”
    â€œGet this through your head, Trace, and you, too, Frank. Hank Lowery didn’t murder anyone. Right now someone else is laughing up his sleeve, happy to let someone else take the blame.”
    â€œYou sound mighty certain, Kate,” Frank said, looking around the crowded hotel dining room. “When it comes to rannies like Hank Lowery, you can’t be certain of anything.”
    â€œAs certain as a person can be,” Kate said. “I plan to talk to Hank this morning and ask him what happened. I’ll go on from there.”
    â€œWe know what happened, Ma,” Trace said.
    â€œAll right then, I’ll ask him how and why it happened,” Kate said.
    Frank said, “Kate, you won’t get a straight answer from Lowery. He’s yet to tell the truth about the Longdale Massacre and the killing of old Levi Fry. Lies on top of lies, that’s all you’ll get.”
    â€œThen how do you explain it, Frank?” Kate smiled and poured him more coffee. She was never more dangerous than when she was being nice.
    Frank treaded warily. “Kate, I don’t know why a man like Lowery would murder a woman. Such a question has never before entered into my thinking.”
    â€œWell, let’s go and find an answer to that question, shall we?” Kate turned to her son. “Trace, you’re not going back with the chuck wagon.