by Ben Boulden
Wiley nodded.
“You were going to move it to Wiley’s land, melt it down and pass it off as fresh ore? That’s what you boys had planned?”
Wiley sat silent. His face pale, shock in his eyes.
Kate said, “You get the idea from the Ute you killed in Salt Lake?”
Wiley looked at J.D.
“Don’t you look at him for help.”
J.D. held his hands up in a helpless gesture. “I’d answer, if it was me looking at a .44’s bad end in Kate Blaze’s steady hands.”
“It was Guggenheim’s idea. All of it.”
“I bet,” Kate said. “You kill the Indian?”
Wiley shook his head.
Kate said, “I bet you’re going to tell us Alabaster did the deed, right?”
“That’s right.” His voice a whisper.
“What about Emma’s dad?”
Wiley blinked. He looked from Kate to J.D. and back.
Kate said, “Why’d you kill him?”
“I. I—”
“Hold it,” J.D. said. “You better save it for your wife. She’ll want to know why you killed her father.”
“I want to shoot him, J.D.”
J.D. glanced at his wife. “Then we’d have to haul his sorry ass out of here. Better we make him walk and let Gentry hang him in a week or two.”
Kate glared, but lowered the Colt.
J.D. said, “How’d you know they killed Emma’s dad?”
Kate grimaced. “Lucky guess.”
J.D. laughed, changed the subject. “This is what I call an anniversary, Kate. Murder, gold and land grabs.”
Kate shook her head. “You owe me big for this one. It’s my turn tonight and I’m not going to bathe.”
J.D. looked glum. “No bath? After I gave you that necklace and everything?”
Kate smiled. “Last night was your present.”
Then, “And I’m not bathing tonight.”
