Free What the Dead Men Say by Ed Gorman

father.”
        “What’re you talking about?”
        So Kittredge explained how Sheriff Dodds had come into the roundhouse tavern and pretty much said that he knew the three men had stuck up the bank and killed the little girl-maybe not killed her on purpose but killed her nonetheless-and that if he, Dodds, had to choose fates, he’d take his chances with the law instead of with some crazy man with a Winchester.
        “That’s why I say we kill Ryan,” Carlyle said, “before he kills us.”
        “Shut up,” Griff said.
        They stood downslope from the dam so they cold talk over the roar. Griff rolled himself a cigarette, taking the smoke deep into his lungs, savoring the burning. He said, “Maybe we should take it to a vote.”
        “Take what to a vote?” Carlyle said.
        “What the sheriff said.”
        “You mean turning ourselves in?” Kittredge said.
        “Yup,” Griff said. “Maybe that’s the easiest way to do things.”
        “That what you want to do, Griff?” Carlyle said.
        “I didn’t say one way or the other; all I said was that maybe we should take it to a vote.”
        “I been in Fort Madison,” Carlyle said. “I’d never last in there again. I’m too god damn old for prison.”
        “So you’re voting against it?” Griff said.
        “God damn right I’m votin’ against it.”
        “Kittredge? What do you think we should do?”
        Kittredge ran a hand across his face, turned slightly to look out at the water over the grassy hump of the slope, then spat into the earth. He turned back to his partners. “You think he’d listen to our side of it?”
        “Who?” Griff said.
        “Ryan.”
        “Doubt it,” Griff said. “Put yourself in his place. Your daughter gets killed by three men and they come and try and tell you their side. Would you listen to them?”
        Kittredge thought a moment. Then, “Maybe there’s a third way, instead of turnin’ ourselves in or just waitin’ for Ryan to shoot us.”
        “What would that be?” Griff said.
        “What Carlyle said.”
        “Damn right,” Carlyle said. “What I said.”
        “Shoot Ryan, you mean?” Griff said.
        “Yes.”
        “Damn right,” Carlyle said again. “Let’s vote right now.”
        Griff paid him no attention. He turned to Kittredge. “That’s the tempting way, I know. But think about it. You said the sheriff pretty much believes we’re the men involved in the robbery. But maybe he doesn’t have hard evidence.”
        “So what?” Carlyle said.
        Griff kept talking straight to Kittredge, even though Kittredge wasn’t responding. “So if Ryan gets killed, who do you think the sheriff’s going to blame? Us.” He paused. “There’s at least some possibility that the sheriff will never be able to prove we had a part in that robbery. But if we go after Ryan ourselves-”
        “I want a damn vote,” Carlyle said.
        “He’s right, Carlyle,” Kittredge said.
        “What?” Carlyle said.
        “He’s right. Griff is. By goin’ after Ryan, we’d just be admitting that we were guilty.”
        “You votin’ with him, then?”
        “Yes,” Kittredge said. “I am.”
        Griff allowed himself a small sigh. “We wait.”
        “We what?”
        “We wait, Carlyle. We see what Ryan’s going to do next. That’s the only way we stay out of trouble.”
        “What if he tries to kill us?” Carlyle said.
        “Then we have the sheriff take care of him. You know how Dodds is. He won’t allow anybody to start shooting people. He’ll either run Ryan in or run him out of town. Either way, he takes care of our problem for us.”
        “You make it sound pretty god damn simple,” Carlyle said. “It’s a lot simpler than shooting somebody,” Griff said, anger in his voice now. “You