Reilly’s eyes widened in amazement as he recognized the man in the drawing on the poster. “But that’s…that’s…”
“John Henry Braddock,” Bo said. “Or at least, the fella we thought was John Henry Braddock. The one who died in that avalanche.”
Reilly pointed a shaky finger at the reward poster. “That says his name is Halliday. It says he’s wanted for murder.”
Bo nodded. “That’s right. Bart Halliday’s a hired killer and an outlaw.”
“But he had the badge. He had that letter addressed to John Henry Braddock…”
“Only one thing makes any sense,” Bo said.
“Halliday ambushed and killed the real John Henry Braddock and took his place,” Scratch said.
“Why would he do that?”
“The same reason you pretended to be Braddock,” Bo said. “He figured on taking the town for whatever he could. Of course, in your case things, worked out a mite different.”
“Yeah,” Reilly said, nodding slowly. “I reckon they did.” He thought for a moment and then asked, “If McHale was responsible for the rustling and the gun-running, why did he hire a lawman like Braddock in the first place? Wouldn’t he have been afraid that Braddock would find out what he was up to?”
“I’m sure he didn’t want to. But the rest of the town leaders pretty much boxed him in so he didn’t have any choice. He had to just hope that Braddock wouldn’t interfere with his plans.”
“Like we did,” Scratch added with a grin.
Reilly sighed and shook his head. “I still have a little trouble believing that Dodge Emerson wasn’t behind all the trouble.”
“Oh, you’ll have to keep an eye on Emerson,” Bo cautioned. “I don’t think he’s crooked, but he’s ambitious. One of these days he’s liable to be the mayor of Whiskey Flats. You may be working for him.”
Reilly closed his eyes and winced. “I guess I’ll have to deal with that when and if it happens. It would sure be easier if you two were still around, though.”
“Sorry, John Henry,” Bo said as he put on his hat. “I think we’re heading south.”
“Been a while since we been to Mexico,” Scratch said. “Tequila and plump, brown-skinned señoritas…”
“Chili so hot it’ll make your eyes water,” Bo said.
“Pretty little señoritas…”
Bo took hold of Scratch’s buckskin jacket and tugged him out the door. The Texans might not leave Whiskey Flats right away, but in their minds they were already on the drift again, answering the call of the frontier, bound for new places and hoping that at the end of the trail there would be peace this time, instead of some new ruckus.
After all, they couldn’t keep riding into trouble forever…could they?
PINNACLE BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
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Copyright © 2008 William W. Johnstone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
Following the death of William W. Johnstone, the Johnstone family is working with a carefully selected writer to organize and complete Mr. Johnstone’s outlines and many unfinished manuscripts to create additional novels in all of his series like The Last Gunfighter, Mountain Man, and Eagles, among others. This novel was inspired by Mr. Johnstone’s superb storytelling.
PINNACLE BOOKS and the Pinnacle log are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 0-7860-2106-3
Sidewinders#2 Massacre At Whiskey Flats Page 25
