White Lightning by Lyle Brandt Read Free Book Online

year or two in age.
    Berringer examined them, as if he hoped to find fault with their spotless servant’s garb, then said, “Convey these horses to the stable. Tell Hemadri to take special care of them.”
    The two youths bobbed their heads in unison, came forward, and received the reins from Slade and Naylor. Slade took time to thank the one called Ashwin, who cracked his façade enough to show a measure of surprise at common courtesy.
    “Now, if you’ll follow me,” said Berringer. He turned, preceding them into his home. The place was just as Slade remembered it, spotless, a man’s retreat with no sign of a woman’s touch. “I’m pleased to see you gentlemen, but sorry for the circumstances, naturally.”
    “Bill Tanner spoke to you, I understand,” said Slade.
    “About our difficulties, yes. Kindly accept my most sincere condolences for his untimely end.” Berringer led them to his study, indicating deep chairs with a gesture of his hand. “Something to drink?”
    “What have you got?” asked Naylor, speaking to the agent for the first time.
    “Bourbon, Irish whiskey, cognac, sherry,” Berringer replied.
    “No lack of alcohol,” said Slade.
    Berringer cocked a woolly eyebrow and replied, “Of course, this is my personal supply. And drinking is forbidden to the
Indians
, not to their…supervisors.”
    Wondering what he had meant to say before he checked himself, Slade said, “It sets an odd example, though.”
    “You think so, Marshal?” Berringer pretended toconsider Slade’s idea, then frowned, dismissing it. “I think it best for subjugated people to accept the day-to-day realities of life.”
    “I’ll try that Irish,” Naylor interjected, with a smile.
    “Of course. And Marshal Slade?”
    “Nothing for me right now, thanks.”
    “As you wish.”
    Berringer poured two double shots of Irish whiskey, handed one to Naylor, then sat facing them in yet another padded armchair. Slade watched him sip his drink, then said, “About this liquor problem you’ve been having…”
    “Straight to business. Good. We have, in fact, been plagued of late by smugglers of illicit alcohol. The impact on my charges, as you may imagine, has been detrimental.
    His
charges
, speaking of the Cherokees as a personal burden of duty.
    “We’re behind the times on what’s been happening,” Slade said. “I understand you’ve had one killing tied to liquor somehow.”
    “That’s correct. A drunken brawl two weeks ago that led to stabbing. A buck called Avinash was killed. I understand his name meant ‘Indestructible.’ Ironic, don’t you think?” Berringer smirked and took another sip of whiskey. “Several others suffered minor injuries during the fracas. We have two in custody for manslaughter.”
    “How long has this been going on?” Naylor inquired.
    “The whiskey smuggling? To my knowledge,” Berringer replied, “about two months. At first, I thought the cases of intoxication we encountered were produced by native beer the tribesmen make from sarsaparilla roots and berries. As it turns out, though, I was mistaken.”
    “And you’ve caught no one bringing in the liquor?” Slade inquired.
    “Not yet,” said Berringer. “After the fatal melee, I interrogated the survivors. Two of them reluctantly admitted that delivery was made by white men, but they either didn’t know or would not share with me the names.”
    “Bill Tanner thought he had a lead in Stateline,” Naylor said.
    “Oh, yes? He must have learned that after he was here,” said Berringer. “At least, he failed to mention it.”
    “We’re interested in the smuggling and mean to stop it if we can,” Slade said. “First thing, of course, we need to find whoever murdered Marshal Tanner and collect them for Judge Dennison.”
    “Priorities, of course,” said Berringer. “Do you suspect my Cherokees?”
    “The only lead we have right now,” Slade answered, “is the damage that he suffered.”
    “There was mutilation, as I