Powder Keg by Ed Gorman Read Free Book Online Page B

sickly wife, to boot. Can’t do about half the work she should; and even then she’s got these spells when she can’t do nothing at all. And so this here clerk I’ve been telling you about, now he ain’t got a job on top of everything else. And it’s all because of the big hero, Mike Chaney.”
    Maybe I would have been more sympathetic if he hadn’t been spitting all over me as he worked his way through his moist rage. I took out my handkerchief and wiped my face.
    “I just want to see his face when they put the handcuffs on him. Or when they kill him. Shoot him down. Because you know he don’t really care about the people he gives this money to. All he cares about is playin’ the big man to everybody. ‘Here I am. I’m Mike Chaney. I’m a hero.’”
    Everybody was packed so tight at the counter that I kind of had to wriggle my way up out of the seat.
    “I take it that clerk was your son.”
    “You take it right, mister.”
    His plight was one that most people never think about. You take any major crime like a bank robbery. It affects a whole lot of people, people you never think about. That man’s son, for instance, and his sick wife. And their kids.
    “I wish I could help you, mister. But I’m afraid I can’t.”
    Somebody was in my seat within six seconds of my lifting my ass off it.

Chapter 12
    I decided to try the boardinghouse where Tom Daly was staying. Or at least had been staying unless he’d managed to get himself kicked out.
    When I passed by the sheriff’s office I saw Nordberg talking to his wife. Even in faded blue gingham she was as pretty as a mountain sunset. The woman in the photographs in his office. She had a buffalo wrap over her shoulders. She carried her infant tight in her arms. Given the raw wind, she had to keep it completely covered.
    Close up, the woman was even prettier, a delicate female face with blue eyes that spoke of intelligence but also anxiety.
    “I need to talk to this man, Wendy. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”
    “Supper’s ready and waiting.”
    But Nordberg seemed more interested in talking to me than he did in talking to his wife. He just looked at her and said, “This is Noah Ford. This is Wendy. My wife.”
    She said all the nice things, including, “I hope you enjoy your stay here, Mr. Ford.”
    After his wife and baby were gone, Nordberg said, “C’mon inside. It’s too cold to stand out here for very long.”
    The front desk wasn’t manned. A coffeepot bubbled on the potbellied stove. He set us up with a cup each. He sat on the edge of the desk, I sat in a chair. The walls were covered with various plaques and awards his office had received. From what I’d seen of him, he probably deserved all of them.
    “Your friend’s at it again. He somehow met Mike Chaney’s sister Jen and got her all stirred up. She was cooperating with me. But not since she’s talked to Daly. And that’s just one thing. About an hour ago somebody swore they spotted Chaney in town here. Not far from Jen’s place. I ran out there but didn’t find him anyplace. Thought I’d look around some more. I’m headed out there now. I just wanted to put something warm in my gut because I just might be outside for a long time tonight. I was going to look you up, anyway. See if you wanted to go along. After I find him, I’m going to put your friend Daly in a cell and he stays there until the train is ready to pull out and I put him on it.”
    “I don’t blame you. I wonder how the hell he got mixed up with Chaney’s sister.”
    “She’s a very nice gal. She’s just afraid that your two federal men are going to kill her brother. She’s sure that Flannery Jr. put them up to it.”
    We took our last sips of coffee and headed out.

Chapter 13
    B one-cold, wind-whipped, wind-blinded, we spent a good (well, bad actually) two hours chasing phantoms on the north edge of town where there were ample hiding places, including a shallow wooded area, a roundhouse and boxcars, a wide