Free The Loner: The Bounty Killers by J. A. Johnstone Page B

the general store to convert that dollar to licorice whips or maybe a pocket knife.
    The Kid stood in the cell, paying no attention to Carly or the bank robber in the cell across the aisle. He ripped the envelope open, eager to see what Claudius Turnbuckle had to say.

Chapter 12

    The terse words hit him like a hard punch in the gut.

REWARD GENUINE STOP TERRITORIAL
GOVERNOR REFUSES TO DROP
CHARGES STOP GOING SANTA FE TO
STRAIGHTEN OUT MESS
TURNBUCKLE

    The Kid sank slowly onto the bunk as he tried to absorb the message.
    “Bad news?” Carly asked.
    “Bad enough.” The Kid crumpled the telegram into a ball and tossed it out through the bars. “See for yourself.”
    She hesitated for a second before picking up the paper, smoothing it out, and reading what was printed on it.
    “Who’s Turnbuckle?” she asked as she looked up at him.
    “Claudius Turnbuckle, my lawyer. One of the partners in the firm Turnbuckle & Stafford.”
    Carly tapped a finger on the telegram. “He says he’s on his way to Santa Fe.”
    “Yes, and I have no doubt he’ll get everything straightened out like he says. But how long is that going to take?” The Kid shook his head in disgust. “In the meantime, I have to stay here, penned up in this cell.”
    “Well, for heaven’s sake, it’s not that bad,” Carly said. “I happen to know you have a perfectly fine breakfast there. I fix the meals for the prisoners, and I’m a good cook.”
    “That’s a fact,” The Kid said with a shrug.
    “I’m sure it’ll be boring, but if you’re telling the truth, in the long run you don’t have anything to worry about. You’ll be exonerated and released. You’ll have lost some time, that’s all. Unless you were on your way somewhere in a hurry, that shouldn’t be a big problem.”
    “No,” The Kid admitted, “I wasn’t on my way anywhere, in a hurry or otherwise.”
    “Well, there you go,” she said with a satisfied nod. “It’s just an inconvenience, that’s all. You’ll be well treated. Consider it just . . . a chance to rest.”
    That was the sensible way to look at things, The Kid supposed.
    But where iron bars were concerned, he wasn’t sure he could ever be sensible again.

    Marshal Fairmont returned to the jail at midmorning. He came into the cell block and said, “Carly tells me you got a telegram from somebody in San Francisco.”
    “My lawyer,” The Kid said with a nod from the bunk.
    “Well, it just had the fella’s name signed to it. There was nothing on there that actually said he was a lawyer.”
    The Kid laughed and shook his head. “You’re determined that I’m not telling the truth, aren’t you?”
    “She’s starting to feel a little bad that she came near to shooting you and then clouted you over the head. She’s worried that maybe you didn’t deserve it.”
    “What did you tell her?”
    “That until I see proof otherwise, to me you’re just another owlhoot on the dodge.”
    “In other words, I’m guilty until proven innocent.”
    Fairmont flushed angrily. “It’s not like that, and you know it.”
    “That’s the way it sounds to me.”
    “I’m just doing my job here. If you don’t like it, that’s too damned bad.”
    From the other cell, the bank robber asked, “What about me? What are you gonna do with me, Marshal?”
    “Now, that’s a lot simpler,” Fairmont said. “The circuit judge will be through here in a couple weeks. You’ll be charged with bank robbery and attempted murder, and I expect you’ll be on your way to prison shortly thereafter. It’s lucky for you nobody except your partners got killed while all the lead was flying around, or you’d be facing the gallows, son.”
    The man looked down at the floor and muttered something, probably a curse. He didn’t ask any more questions.
    The rest of the day passed quietly and uneventfully. It was boring, all right, just as Carly had predicted it would be. But the thick stone walls of the jail retained a little of the