Free The Sons of Grady Rourke by Douglas Savage Page A

of Sean and splashed some whiskey into both tin cups. The lawman picked up his cup and wrapped his fingers around it as if to warm them.
    â€œAny word from your brother?”
    â€œPatrick? No. Ain’t heard from Liam neither.”
    â€œJimmy Dolan says you need some work?”
    â€œYes. Two weeks of boarding at the Wortley and Manuel’s cantina have just about cleaned me out.”
    â€œI see. Well, I can use another deputy if you want.”
    â€œLaw? I don’t know.”
    â€œThere ain’t any profit from riding with the Boys. Fun maybe, but not much profit. You were a soldier and I need another man good with a shooting iron.”
    â€œYou already have more guns than you got criminals, Sheriff.”
    William Brady smiled and nodded toward his steaming tin cup.
    â€œMaybe. But word is that McSween will be coming home any day from Mesilla. He and Tunstall have quite a bunch of Mexicans riding with them. Thought your gun might even us up some.”
    â€œWhat about Patrick?” The brother looked squarely at the sheriff. The sun low in the east came through the window and cast horrible shadows on the burned side of Sean’s face. The sheriff looked into his coffee cup.
    â€œAs far as I know, your brother ain’t been to town since Monday. One of Jesse’s men said that he was busy putting up his fence line. It ain’t like I expect a war or anything. Maybe just a little trouble when McSween comes home. Probably nothing. You need the money and I need another gun. It ain’t much more complicated than that.”
    Sean laid his coffee cup atop the desk between the men.
    â€œWhat kind of trouble? McSween’s nothing but a lawyer. He pushes paper.”
    â€œBut he’s got friends. What’s worse, he’s got a little army of cow punchers what protect Chisum’s herd.”
    â€œFrom the way Jesse talks,” Sean smiled tightly, “that seems like a reasonable precaution.”
    Sheriff Brady nodded. “I suppose. McSween and Tunstall extort half of Lincoln county at their bank and Jimmy Dolan’s House robs the ranchers by selling them goods at exorbitant prices and taking in the farmers’ produce at outrageously low prices in exchange. Everyone has to choose their poison here.” Brady nudged his cup aside, folded his hands on the desk, and leaned forward to lock eyes with Sean Rourke. “But Dolan ain’t killed anybody; at least not over Chisum stock or money. McSween’s gang don’t seem so polite. Not after how Jimmy done him with old Fritz.”
    The force of Brady’s narrow-eyed glare pushed Sean against the back of his chair.
    â€œEveryone talks about this Fritz business, but no one will give it to me straight.”
    â€œYes. You be entitled to that much, Sean.” The sheriff stood up and moved toward the east window. His coffee and whiskey breath steamed the glass where he studied Stockton’s saloon bathed in glorious high-country sunshine. “You know that Lawrence Murphy started the House. Emil Fritz was Murphy’s partner until Fritz went back to Europe to die about four years ago. When some back-East insurance company refused to pay on Emil’s life insurance, Murphy hired McSween to collect for the estate.
    â€œLast summer, McSween wrung seven thousand dollars or so out of them. Then he stashed it in a bank in St. Louis, I think. Jimmy tried to get at the money to settle some old House debt of Emil’s. When McSween stopped him, Dolan had Emil’s sister swear out a complaint that McSween embezzled that money from the estate and hid it.” Brady turned from the window and smiled. “Emil’s sister don’t even speak English.”
    Sean looked at Brady with the sun full on his mangled cheek.
    â€œHow come you know so much about all this legal business?”
    â€œBecause, Sean, I was appointed executor of old Emil’s estate back in ’76. I resigned as