Free Killer's Draw: The Circuit Rider by Dani Amore

nothing you can do to help us, Mr. Tower,” the
man said. “I am simply enjoying a cup of this fine hotel coffee. And Carl is
busy … being Carl.” The big man displayed no apparent recognition that he
had been mentioned. He continued to look at Tower with tired indifference.
    “Since you already know my name,” Tower said. “I’d like to
introduce you to my associate—”
    Before he could finish the sentence, the little man said.
“Bird Hitchcock. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
    Tower looked at Bird, caught the look of annoyance on her
face. He turned back to the little man.
    “And you would be …” Tower said.
    “Name’s Benjamin Hackett,” the little man said. “And this is
my associate, Carl Weller.”
    “I already mentioned that I’m a preacher. Do you mind me
asking what you do for an occupation?”
    The little man chuckled. Tower noted the bright blue eyes,
the way they seemed to stare at him with none of the emotion carried by the
rest of the man’s face.
    “I am an entrepreneur, Mr. Tower. I create my own
opportunities.”
    “What kind of opportunity are you creating now?” Tower asked.
    “Too early to tell.”
    A brief silence hung between them. Hackett continued to
trace a pattern on the tabletop with his index finger. Weller continued to
glower. Tower decided that nothing important would be gained by continuing the
conversation.
    “Well, good luck, gentlemen, I’m sure we’ll be seeing you
around town,” Tower said.
    “That is very likely,” Hackett said.
    Tower and Bird left the hotel.
    “What the hell was that all about?” Bird asked.
    Tower explained how the two men had watched his discussion with
Roger Jeffire and how he felt they’d staked out the hotel to keep an eye on
them.
    “I’ll be damned,” Bird said. “Well, I’ve got some news for
you, Mr. Tower. That little man’s name sure as hell isn’t Benjamin Hackett. Or
maybe it is, but that’s not what he called himself down in Laredo. There, he
was known as Henry Jones. A helluva card cheat and quick with a gun. Carries
one up his sleeve and another one in his boot.”
    “I figured he wasn’t being completely honest with me,” Tower
said.
    “And that big man, he was known as Mr. Seven. Probably
because he’s almost seven feet tall. He likes to beat men to death with his
bare hands. I never saw him do it, but I saw the body of one of his sparring
partners. Pretty gruesome.”
    They made their way to the newspaper office as Tower thought
about the two men.
    “Why would they be so interested in us?” he asked.
    “No clue. But I’m not done yet. Do you remember when Ronald
Hale confronted me at the restaurant about Egans and his daughter?”
    “His fictitious daughter, you mean,” Tower said.
    “Right. Well, just before he confronted me, two men had
walked into the dining room and sat well away from me. Something about those
two rang a bell, though, and I’ve been trying to piece together who they were,
but now that I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Seven and Henry Jones again,
it hit me.”
    “Who are they?”
    “The two men in the restaurant were part of Henry Jones’
gang back in Texas. They’d been brought in to settle a range war by making one
of the warring party’s members disappear. I originally was part of that group,
until I realized they wanted us to simply murder everyone in cold blood.”
    “So, now we’re facing four people at least who seem to have
a vested interest in what we’re doing.”
    “Yes, four. There were five. “
    Tower looked at her and Bird nodded.
    “Downwind Dave was a part of that group, too.”

Twenty-Seven
    The Big River Bugle was closed for the day. The door
was shut and locked, and Bird saw no lights on inside.
    “You sure he said tonight?” she asked Tower.
    “He was pretty clear.”
    “Let’s check the back.”
    They walked through the alley and found the newspaper
office’s back door. Bird tried the handle. It was unlocked.
    “What do you