The Last Buckaroo by J. R. Wright Read Free Book Online Page A

the back bar and began drawing the beer.
    “ Well,
the way I figure it, Clyde was dead a long time before they found him.  I was
one of the ones the sheriff called on to help carry him out.  I know about
rigger, and it takes a long time for a body to stiffen like that. ”
    “ Clyde
was in rigor mortis? ”
    “ Stiffer
than a cow ’ s tail in the dead of winter …   I grabbed one once and
it broke right off … frozen. ”
    “ Oh
God!  Spare me, Lester! ”  
Katie quaked with the thought.  “ How
long is a long time? ”
    “ I
don ’ t
know exactly, four or five hours, I guess.  It took my mother that long, but
she was in a warm house when she died two winters ago.  I figure in that livery
it would have come a little faster … maybe
an hour less. ”
    “ And
what time was that … when you moved the
body? ”
    “ Around
nine thirty …”
    “ Well,
then Yancey couldn ’ t have done it, ” Katie said, with glee
in her tone.  “ He was in here until after dark. 
Not enough time. ”
    “ Exactly, ” Lester said with the
toothless smile again.   “ I
was here, remember? ”
    Actually,
she didn ’ t. 
He wasn ’ t
exactly one of those people that lit up the room with his presence.  “ Lester,
I want you to write all that down … what you just told me … and sign it. ”   She dug in a drawer and
found a tablet and pencil.  “ Here! ”  
She put it before him on the bar.
    “ I
don ’ t
spell well, ” Lester co nfessed.   “ Here,
you write it … then I ’ ll
sign. ”
    Katie
took that to mean Lester was illiterate.  “ Okay, ” she said, and took the
pencil from him.  “ So, who all was there,
when the body was removed, that can verify your story? ”
    With
that, Lester perked up and rattled on for near a half hour. Katie took every
word of it down, filling several sheets of paper.  Lester then signed it: Lester
Kingsley .  Sort of.  Katie, upon seeing the almost illegible
signature, signed below it as witness, then got it into the safe, just as the
evening crowd started coming through the door.
    “ After
all that, I should get two beers, ” Lester said.
    “ Lester,
if you ’ ll
tell that same story in court, I ’ ll
give you ten beers.  How ’ s that? ”
    “ That ’ s
a deal! ”   He tossed out a hand to
shake on it.
    “ Deal! ” Katie said, and took his mug for a refill.  “ Here ’ s
another.  You earned it. ”
    “ All right! 
Thanks, Katie. ”   He
smiled as if he ’ d just gotten away with
something.
    “ And
Lester, let ’ s keep this just between the two of
us, okay? ”
    “ How
about Gracie … can I tell her? ”
    “ Who ’ s
Gracie? ”
    “ My
wife. ”
    “ Oh,
yes …   No.  Especially not
her, ” Katie said and went off
to wait on the new arrivals.  She ’ d
just remembered Gracie was the daughter of Marta, the woman that ran the
telephone office.  Oh God!  If that woman got ahold of it everyone in town
would know in a matter of hours.
    A
half hour later Preston Ames came through the door.  At this point, Katie, with
a near full house, was busier than a one armed wallpaper hanger with crabs.  No
way was she going to take time out from her paying customers for him.  Besides,
she was afraid of what she might say, as furious as she still was about what
happened to Yancey over at that prison in Terryville.  The shotgun under the
counter came to mind again.
    “ Katie! ”  
Preston pushed his way through to the bar.
    “ I
can ’ t
talk right now, Sheriff.  Maybe later, okay? ” she said as pleasantly
as possible.
    “ I
saw Woody Clampett in town today, ” Preston continued as if
he hadn ’ t
heard a word of what she ’ d just said.  “ He
was in here, wasn ’ t he? ”
    “ So? 
We get out-of-towners on a regular basis.  Now that we have the automobile,
people get around more, ” she said while filling
mugs at the tap and sliding them down the bar.
    “ Woody
Clampett can smell a mark further than a coon dog can