Free Colorado Sam by Jim Woolard

“I don’t like being made a fool of,” he snapped.
    Â Â  Heft raised a palm and said, “Nephew, I needed to learn if you’re as grown up between the ears as the rest of you. When bullets start to fly, overgrown children toting guns perish the fastest.”
    Â Â  Nathan’s anger cooled. The foreman had been testing him, not slighting him. “Mr. Thomas, do you have any idea who might’ve shot at my uncle?”
    Â Â  “Not for certain, Nephew, but I got my suspicions.” 
    Â Â  Nathan kicked a loose stone down the bank. “Would you care to share your suspicions, Mr. Thomas?” 
    Â Â  “Only if you call me Heft.”
    Â Â  Nathan grinned now. “Yes, Sir. Heft it is.”
    Â Â  The foreman adjusted his Stetson and peered at Nathan from beneath its lowered brim. “I’m no police detective like Ira Westfall, yet I wasn’t left behind in the corral a-purpose either. Seth wasn’t lacking enemies, the worst being the Buckman brothers. I mentioned before that your uncle killed their daddy. It never made any difference to them their father had a pistol in his hand at the time. Roan, the oldest, carries the biggest grudge, though he hides his hate behind a slippery smile and fancy lawyer duds. He never found the guts to call your uncle out.” 
    Â Â  “And you think he and his brothers hired someone to kill Uncle Seth?”
    Â Â  Heft Thomas rubbed the brim of his Stetson and said, “That’s most likely what happened. We’ll never be able to prove it, but it appears the Buckman boys finally got revenge for their father.”
    Â Â  Heft hawked and spat. ”We best head back. I wanted you to see where your uncle died, and tell you the truth of what happened. I wasn’t joshing when I said this country could be plumb dangerous for you and your aunt. Powerful people gone wrong can do a man the most harm, and the Buckmans would kill the family dog to get what they want. Laura told you how they’re trying to buy out Payne Merchandise. Who knows, with your uncle out of the way, maybe they’ll be after the ST next.”
    Â Â  “Is my aunt aware of what you’ve told me?”
    Â Â  “No, I decided I wouldn’t talk with her until I’d something more to offer than wild guesses. Besides, she carries a rifle and has Sam with her whenever she so much as steps out on the veranda. And she can shoot. She’s as good with a long gun as Brick Redman. Ain’t any cause yet to ruin her sleep.”
    Â Â  Heft Thomas filled their canteens with fresh water and led Nathan on a circuitous route back to the home yard. They rode east well away from Rock Creek, and then turned south, checking pasture fences for loose wire as they rode. The foreman was his usual reticent self when on horseback, leaving Nathan with his thoughts.
    Â Â  Ira Westfall would be impressed with Heft Thomas. Without any police experience and very little concrete evidence a crime had been committed, the foreman had taken a long pull on the rope and made a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. At the same time, Ira would warn that endless speculation about a crime without hard evidence of some kind could, in the end, leave you holding nothing but the original pig’s ear.  
    Â Â  While on shakier ground, Nathan had gone one step further with Heft’s speculation. He’d noted the similarities between the circumstances of his uncle’s death—deliberate stalking by an unknown assailant—and those of his parents. Nathan was certain Ira would say straight out that it had to be more than sheer coincidence when two brothers and one of their wives, living a thousand miles apart, were murdered in the same fashion within a span of two months. The odds were that the two events were somehow tied to each other. 
    Â Â  Nathan seldom kidded himself. If there was a knot that