Free The Rivers Webb by Jeremy Tyler Page B

as his foot caught on an upturned root. Dan went down, and hard, tumbling down the steep hillside. When he managed to regain his balance, the running figure was gone without a trace.
    â€œAlright, John, it’s all up to you, you arrogant northerner.”
    As if in reply, a single gunshot resounded across the hillside. Dan dusted himself off and headed toward the sound, his own gun gripped in his sweaty hand. Uncharitably, Dan wondered if John had made that shot as a warning, or if he had maybe forgotten that this person wasn’t actually identified as a suspect, yet. He was moving quickly, but more carefully, both to keep his balance and in mind of stray bullets should more shots be fired. His ears pricked to hear some signs of a struggle, or the sounds of hurried flight. Nothing. After a few minutes, Dan emerged from a rough patch of bushes and brambles and called out.
    â€œOver here” came a dejected and disgusted reply. Dan followed the sound a little further down the hillside to the limping form of his temporary and unwelcome colleague. The look on his face told a story without a happy ending.
    Dan worked his way down to him with some effort.
    â€œAny chance you seen which way he went?”
    â€œYeah,” John replied between breaths, “Away from me.”
    â€œFunny. He was headin’ the same direction when I last saw ’im.”
    John looked Dan over quickly, noting the twig in his hair and the red clay still clinging to his knees.
    â€œGood, then. Our stories match. Up until now, I was afraid no one would believe us.”
    They took a little bit of time getting back to Earl. They could have, and would have, made better time if they supported each other’s weight while limping back, but neither man wanted to offer help, and neither man wanted to accept it. So, by mutual and unspoken agreement, they slowly made their way to the boat, every man for himself.
    Earl, who still had no idea what was going on, was barely able to contain himself when he saw them coming back. He was practically jumping from one man to the other, trying to decide which needed help getting into the boat the most. Eventually, through a combination of both men’s persuasion and an overall feeling of light-headedness, he simply allowed them both to get in unassisted. After a rapid-fire round of questions, Dan calmed him down enough so he could start the boat and head back down the river while he detailed their little adventure. John was deathly quiet, simply staring at the trees rushing past.
    Once back on land, John dropped Dan off at the sheriff’s office without delay. He only had a short amount of time before he had to meet Gerald at the Rivers home, and he didn’t want to give the skittish man any time or excuse to get out of it.
    When he arrived at the Rivers home, he was met at the door by a woman he didn’t immediately recognize. It wasn’t until he managed to look past the thread-worn clothes and servant’s demeanor that he could see the pale, withdrawn face of Opal Rivers.
    She wore no makeup or jewelry, and held her head at a slight stoop, to make it look as though she were constantly at a bow.
    â€œAunt Opal, it’s good to see you.”
    She smiled, but said nothing in return. Instead, she quietly ushered him into the main entryway.
    It was the first time he had actually set foot in the house since he was just a boy, and his memories of the place had always been fuzzy. The few things he could remember were softened by time and distance.
    What shocked him now, though, was something that he had always believed had been the product of his imagination, fueled by childhood stories of castles and knights and dragons. But there it was, as real as anything in this earth.
    At the far wall of the entryway was an enormous fireplace, set with an ornate mantle of jet-black wood. Above that fireplace, hung with great pomp and apparent reverence, was an immense coat of arms. Detailed