Free Arkansas Smith by Jack Martin

a morning.’ He obviously didn’t have much use for such modern contraptions as telegrams.
    Arkansas looked up at the sun. ‘Just over an hour,’ he said, and then smiled at Rycot. ‘You got coffee making facilities in that livery of yours?’
    ‘Sure,’ Rycot said, proudly.
    ‘Then get some brewing.’ Arkansas dismounted and led his horse into a stall. He threw some fresh grain into the trough and his horse went at it immediately.
     
    ‘Yes sir.’ The telegraph operator responded to Arkansas’s query and quickly crossed the room and grabbed two sheets of paper from a pigeonhole. ‘They arrived promptly this morning.’ He handed the sheets over.
    Arkansas quickly ran an eye over both sheets, a thin smile forming at the corners of his mouth. 
    ‘Obliged,’ he said and tipped his hat. He walked out of the small telegraph office to where Rycot waited for him on the sidewalk.
    ‘Did it come?’
    Arkansas stuffed the sheets into his pocket. ‘Sure did.’
    ‘Well, what’s so all-fire important?’
    Arkansas smiled. Rycot seemed to have elected himself his pard. He decided to counter the question with another question rather than be evasive.
    ‘Is the sheriff back yet?’
    Rycot shook his head.
    ‘No matter,’ Arkansas said. ‘I’ll catch up with him on the way back to Will’s.’
    ‘You want I should come with you?’ Rycot asked. ‘Having another man around may prove helpful with your pard still on the mend.’
    ‘Sure.’ Arkansas nodded, knowing that from here on in things could get a little tricky. Having another gun around would not do any harm. And besides, Arkansas had a theory he wanted to check out and leaving someone behind with Will seemed prudent. The telegram had offered no obvious reason for Lance’s desire to get his hands on Will’s spread but the rancher had acquired some properties in recent months and Arkansas had a hunch. He always played his hunches and more than once it had been an intuition, a strange feeling, which had saved his life.
    They went across to the livery and readied their horses. Before they mounted up and left for Will’s place, Rycot hung a sign over the door saying that hewas closed for a few days but anyone using the stable should leave a signed IOU.
    Both men were oblivious to that fact that across the street, John Lance stood in his office window watching them and he continued to do so as they started their horses out of town.
    They had gone perhaps a mile when they saw the sheriff and half-a-dozen other riders coming towards them.

TWELVE
    Doc Cooter’s body was covered in a saddle blanket and draped across a horse that was tied behind the sheriff’s mount. All of the riders looked grim faced as they pulled their horses to a stop.
    ‘You found him then?’ Arkansas stated the obvious and sucked at his quirly. He allowed the smoke to drift out of the corners of his mouth as he steadied his horse.
    The sheriff nodded. He eyes went first from Arkansas to Rycot and then over his shoulder to the body of the unfortunate doctor. ‘Either of you got any idea who did this?’
    ‘Some,’ Arkansas said.
    ‘Care to share with me?’ The sheriff was trying to sound tough, in control, but there was a tremor in his voice. He was obviously ill at ease up against a man with Arkansas’s reputation.
    Arkansas shook his head. ‘When I know for certain,’ he said, ‘you’ll be the first to know.’
    The sheriff nodded and kicked his horse intomovement. The rest of the posse followed. They hadn’t gone more than a dozen feet when Arkansas turned over his shoulder and called the sheriff.
    ‘Yeah?’ The sheriff looked back at him, his expression, weary, hangdog.
    ‘When you come out to Will’s place with Lance to take possession, best make sure your papers are legal and in order,’ Arkansas said, and winked at Rycot, though the old man could fathom no meaning in the gesture.
    The sheriff merely nodded and led the posse back to town with their grim