Murder in Dogleg City by Ford Fargo Read Free Book Online

one—what did you say,
Beaumont?”
    Hébert nodded. “You don’t mind if I
look around?”
    “ Free country,” Gardner
said. “But if you shoot one of Wolf Creek’s citizens in the back,
I’ll sure as Hell string you up, if I don’t plug you first. You
have my word on it.”
    Hébert gave the marshal a cold smile.
“I am somewhat disappointed that you would think a man of my
standing would stoop to shooting a man in the back.”
    “ Mister, I don’t know what
you were back in the Louisiana swamp, but here you’re just one more
jasper I have to keep an eye on. And I’ll do just that.” The
marshal was still in a bad mood from his chat with Dab
Henry.
    “ Very well, I will just
have to investigate for myself.”
    “ You do that. Good day.”
Marshal Gardner sat back down in his chair and returned to his
paperwork. He didn’t look up when Hébert left. But when his new
deputy, Seamus O’Connor came to start his rounds, Gardner said,
“O’Conner, you hike over to the Lucky Break and tell Samuel Jones
that there’s a dude here from New Orleans who calls himself Hay
Bear, and that said dude is looking for him.”
    “ Hay Bear? Some kinda
Injun?”
    “ Hell, I don’t know.
Frenchie, maybe.” The marshal grinned to himself.
    O’Connor got a sawed-off coach gun
from the rack and dropped a handful of shells in his pocket. “Sure
and I’ll amble on over, boss.”
    * * *
    Valentine Hébert left the marshal’s
office and went to the Eldorado Saloon, directly across the street.
He had no success there—employees and patrons alike developed
lockjaw when he described his quarry to them. He then made his way
to the Wolf’s Den, where he received the same response. He could
not help noticing, however, that the establishment’s owner—who had
introduced himself as Ira Breedlove—watched Hébert’s efforts with a
wry smile and a keen eye.
    “ Sorry you didn’t find
your man here,” Breedlove said. “But I do wish you success. I do
indeed.”
    “ I’ll find him,” Hébert
said. “The only place I haven’t asked for him is the Lucky
Break—that has to be where he is.”
    “ It may well be,”
Breedlove agreed. “They’re a sordid bunch over there.”
    * * *
    The Lucky Break’s free lunch always
attracted a crowd. Today’s fare was a deep pot of pork and beans, a
mound of saleratus biscuits, a tureen of thick gravy, and a barrel
of pickles. Head bartender Rob Parker was directing the
activities.
    Hal, the daytime bartender, wandered
over to the house gambler’s table. “You want something to eat,
Sam?” he asked.
    Samuel shook his head. His mind was
still on Hébert, though the dandy had yet to show his face again.
Perhaps he’d seen Samuel in the mirror as the gambler had seen him.
He checked the Derringer in his sleeve. If he straightened his arm
just right, the little gun sprang into his hand already cocked. All
he had to do was pull the trigger.
    Free lunch eaters were mostly beer
drinkers, so the rumble inside the Lucky Break was nothing like the
nighttime roar. Still, Samuel didn’t hear Deputy O’Connor come
through the front door—but as he was glancing into the new mirror
regularly, he caught sight of the deputy when he was two steps into
the saloon.
    O’Connor walked straight to Samuel’s
table. “Marshal Gardner told me to tell you that some southern dude
that calls himself Hay Bear is looking for you. I reckon you Sams
must look out for each other.”
    “ You mean
Hébert?”
    “ That’s what I said. Hay
Bear.”
    “ I saw him,” Samuel said.
“But he’s disappeared. However, he will return sooner or later. He
wants to kill me, I suppose.”
    The deputy’s brow furrowed at the
latter remark. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed
it, probably figuring plenty of people might have reason to kill a
professional gambler. “Watch yerself, boyo,” O’Connor said then,
and walked from the Lucky Break, the sawed-off coach gun in the
crook of his arm.
    The free