Free Journey into Violence by William W. Johnstone Page B

worried about the damage liquored-up and angry Texas cowboys might do to a hotel where one of their number—a lady—was insulted and manhandled, gladly agreed to let the matter drop. He looked at the unconscious man and said to Trace, “Help me get him into a chair, young fellow.”
    â€œHe does look a tad poorly,” Trace said.
    â€œWho is he?” Frank asked Featherstone, then stomped on the gunman’s fancy Stetson and rammed the battered hat onto the groaning man’s head.
    â€œI don’t know his name, but he goes by the Buckskin Kid,” the manager said. “He told one of my waiters that he’s killed a dozen men.”
    Frank smiled and nodded. “Rannies like this one are always a Kid of some kind and they’ve always killed a dozen men. When he comes to, tell him he can pick up his guns at my room.”
    â€œDo you think he’ll do that?” Featherstone looked worried. “I don’t want a shooting scrape in my place.”
    â€œHe’ll need to buy a revolver first, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Frank said. “He says he’s got five dollars in his pocket and he can’t buy a Colt in Dodge for that.”
    â€œFrank, I hope you didn’t hurt him too much,” Kate said. “That blow to the head made such a terrible clunk.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t hurt him too much. Enough to get his attention was all.”
    â€œAnyway, tonight I’ll say a rosary for him, just to be sure,” Kate said.
    Frank nodded. “That will make the Kid feel much better, I’m sure.”

C HAPTER T HIRTEEN
    â€œAnd then the black woman screamed and the next thing I knew the sheriff had a scattergun rammed into my belly.”
    â€œHank, you didn’t see anyone enter or leave the cabin?” Kate said.
    â€œNo, no I didn’t,” Lowery said.
    â€œDoes the cabin have a back door or window?”
    â€œI don’t know. I was too busy noticing other things.”
    â€œLike the knife in the young lady’s chest, for instance?” Frank eyes were hard and blue and devoid of sympathy.
    Lowery nodded. “Yes. Mostly the knife.”
    â€œHank, did you kill her?” Kate asked.
    â€œI swear to God I didn’t, Mrs. Kerrigan.”
    â€œAnd I believe you. Frank, what do you say?”
    â€œWhat do you want me to say, Kate? That I think he’s telling the truth?”
    â€œYes, something like that.”
    â€œI can’t say it. I think Lowery is a cold-blooded murderer. He proved it at Longdale. Anyone who’s capable of killing an old man for no reason can kill a young girl who maybe said a cross word to him.”
    â€œI’m sorry you think that way, Frank,” Lowery said. “You’re badly mistaken about Levi Fry.”
    â€œNo, Lowery. Killing Levi was your mistake and now you’re paying for it.”
    â€œI didn’t kill Fry and I didn’t kill Sarah Hollis.”
    â€œThen both times, who did?”
    â€œThe girl, I don’t know. Fry, well, you wouldn’t believe me.”
    â€œNo, I guess I wouldn’t.”
    â€œI’ll tell you anyway. A stray bullet killed Levi Fry, and it was fired by one of his own men.” Lowery’s knuckles were white on the cell bars. Bloated blue flies from the stock pens buzzed in the shaft of light from a high rectangular window.
    â€œThat’s not how I heard it.” Frank said.
    â€œYou’re hearing the right of it now. The truth,” Lowery said.
    â€œYou’re a damned liar.”
    â€œFrank! Please go and wait outside,” Kate said. “You need some fresh air. Trace, go with him.”
    Without another word, Frank turned and walked away and Trace Kerrigan followed him.
    Kate and Lowery watched them leave.
    â€œMrs. Kerrigan, the mechanical man—”
    â€œUnder the circumstances, please call me Kate.”
    â€œYou’re my boss. I’d prefer