“Anyone know who they were?” Frank Lafferty asked as they went from one dead man to another.
“I do,” Seamus said. He had encountered the Larn brothers a few times in Dodge. They were from a hill clan in the South, and they were not to be trifled with. But someone had more than trifled. Someone had blown the four of them to hell and back.
A fire was kindled. Not much of a fire since they were using grass for fuel, but it was enough light for Seamus to establish that the Larns had been ambushed. “This one was shot in the back,” he noted.
Always seeking facts, Lafferty asked, “Who could have done this?”
“It seems pretty obvious to me,” Seamus said. “Jeeter Frost.”
“But why?” Lafferty asked. “What were these men to him? What motive did he have?”
“I can’t begin to guess,” Seamus said, then went ahead and guessed anyway. “Maybe they heard about the schoolmarm and were trying to save her. Maybe Frost didn’t want them telling anyone they had seen him and her. Hell, maybe he killed them for the thrill of it.”
“Do you think he would do a thing like that?” Lawrence Fisch asked.
“Who knows why killers kill?” was Seamus’s retort. “Anyone who would run off with a schoolmarm has to be one mean son of a bitch.” He felt a twinge of conscience at saying that. He was the only man there, the only person in all of Dodge City, who knew that the schoolmarm had run off with Frost willingly. But it was too late for the truth.
“Do we bury them, Sheriff?” a Texas cowboy inquired. “Or leave them for the buzzards?”
“We are Christians, aren’t we?” Seamus said. When, in truth, he could not remember the last time he set foot in a church. But an idea had occurred to him. If he delayed the posse, if he contrived to slow them enough, Frost and Prescott might get away. And despite Sheriff Hinkle’s grand notion about using the fame garnered from arresting Frost to become a federal marshal, Seamus was of the opinion that it was best for everyone if the clandestine lovers escaped. The only jinx in the works was Jack Coombs, but Seamus could deal with him later. Then another posse member rained on his parade of thoughts.
“What do we bury them with? We didn’t bring shovels or picks and this ground is too hard to use our hands.”
“We can wrap them in blankets and take them with us,” Jack Coombs suggested. “Have them buried in Coffin Varnish.”
For a drunk it was a damn good idea. Seamus scowled. He would have to do something about Coombs soon. “We’ll do that. Put the bodies on horses that aren’t skittish. Do it right and wrap them good and tight.”
It was half an hour before they were under way again. Seamus had to pretend to be in a hurry without actually being in a hurry. When they were about ready he sent the rich kid, Lawrence Fisch, on ahead again, inwardly chuckling at the lunkhead’s attire.
Seamus noticed that Jack Coombs sat in the saddle a little steadier than before. The liquor was wearing off. Pretty soon Coombs would be as sober as the rest of them, and sober the man was as good a tracker as any who drew breath. Seamus couldn’t have that. He couldn’t have that at all.
Eventually Coffin Varnish reared in the distance. Fisch came riding back to inform them the town was quiet and peaceful and everyone appeared to be asleep although there were a few lamps on. “We will disturb everyone if we go riding on in.”
Seamus liked that, though. He doubted Frost and the woman were there, but if they were, the more noise the posse made, the better the chance Frost would hear and avoid them. So he rode at a gallop, and when they neared the outskirts, he bellowed, “Stay alert, men! That killer could be anywhere!”
A nice touch, Seamus thought. He brought them to a stop in front of the general store, and it was not long before a light glowed and the door tinkled and the mayor, in his nightshirt, peeked out.
“I say. What is the meaning of this? Some of us are trying to sleep.”
Seamus dismounted and brushed dust from his clothes. “Remember me? We are on official business. Law business. We are after Jeeter Frost.”
“He has stolen the schoolmarm,” a posse member said.
“And we have bodies,” Jack Coombs piped up.
“My word!” Chester Luce declared. “Give me a minute to get dressed and I will be right out.”
“Take five if you need to,” Seamus said generously.
Frank Lafferty came over to him. “Shouldn’t we search the town? Go from building to building and turn it upside down?”
“Down the street is an Italian family with kids,” Seamus said. “You want to scare them half to death?” He indicated the eastern horizon. “No, it will be daylight soon enough. We will search then, when it is safer.” He added with secret glee at the extra delay, “We have the bodies to bury first.”
“When it is light I can track,” Jack Coombs said. “It won’t take us long to catch them then.”
That was exactly what Seamus did not want to happen. He leaned against the hitch rail until the mayor reappeared, fully dressed.
“How may I be of assistance?”
