Read Online A Time for Hanging by Bill Crider - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bill Crider
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his forehead with a yellow bandanna handkerchief that he pulled from his back pocket. The run down the street had made him break out in a sweat all over, and he could feel his shirt sticking to his back. When he was finished wiping, he stuck the bandanna back in his pocket, but he didn't put the hat back on.
"Now then, Miss Benteen," he said reasonably. "You don't want to do any more shooting. Look at this street. Not a single person on it but us three men. You're scarin' all the people that need to be out and gettin' their day's work done."
Charley nodded in agreement. "He's right, Lucille. You and me, we just need to talk this over in private. We don't want to make a show out of our private business."
"What private business is that?" Jack said. He was still trying to figure out what was going on.
"It's nothin'," Davis said, trying to keep his voice low. He didn't want Lucille to hear.
She heard anyway. "Nothing! That's not what I'd call it, you low-lifed two-timer."
"Two-timer?" Jack said. "Are you two-timin' her, Charley? If you are, it's a real shame." He looked up at the beautiful young woman framed in the window. Why anybody would want to two-time a woman who looked like that was beyond him.
"He's a two-timer, all right," Lucille said. "I found out about it, and now he's trying to tell me that I've misjudged him. That's a good one. Misjudged him!" She laughed shortly. "I know what he is, and he's going to be sorry!"
She steadied the gun, getting ready to fire again, but Vincent called out and stopped her.
"Wait a second," he said. "Maybe all this is just a misunderstandin'. Let me talk to him."
"Fine. You do that. And then I'm going to finish him off."
"It's hot out here in the street," Jack complained. "Can't we talk about this somewhere else?"
"That might be a good idea," Vincent said. "But I don't think Miss Benteen's gonna go for it. Charley, what the hell have you got yourself into."
Charley looked sheepish. "Nothin'," he said.
Vincent looked pointedly at the woman holding the gun on them. "That ain't nothin'."
"Well, not much more'n nothin', then," Charley said. "It's just that she found out I'd been seein' somebody else before I started to court her, and she got mad about it."
He looked up at the window. "But I swear I didn't see her again, Lucille. Not more'n once, anyway."
Lucille pulled the trigger. This time she shot a hole through the high crown of Charley's hat, which flew off his head and into the street.
"She ain't real happy with you, and that's a fact," Vincent said. "Who were you seein', anyway?"
"The preacher's daughter," Charley said. "Liz Randall."
"Uh-oh," Jack said.
And Vincent thought, oh, hell.
13.
Consuela Morales was determined that her son was not going to die for the killing of Elizabeth Randall, even if she had to tell what she knew. She had never told about the people she had helped before; that was one of the reasons why she continued to have people coming to her house. If she had told about their problems, then they would not have trusted her.
They had begun coming in the first place because many of them did not trust Dr. Bigby, or even if they trusted him they did not think much of his abilities as a doctor. The truth was, many of her visitors had been to Bigby first and then, not being satisfied, had come to her.
She was never quite sure how she had received the reputation she had as a healer. It might have arisen because of the time she had cured one of the local men of the bite he had received from a rattler. She had happened to be nearby when he was bitten, and she had been able to cut the wound and suck out the poison. But she had done more. She had bound the wound and applied certain herbs that she knew about to the cut. It had healed perfectly and the man was convinced that she had saved him not because of the
"Now then, Miss Benteen," he said reasonably. "You don't want to do any more shooting. Look at this street. Not a single person on it but us three men. You're scarin' all the people that need to be out and gettin' their day's work done."
Charley nodded in agreement. "He's right, Lucille. You and me, we just need to talk this over in private. We don't want to make a show out of our private business."
"What private business is that?" Jack said. He was still trying to figure out what was going on.
"It's nothin'," Davis said, trying to keep his voice low. He didn't want Lucille to hear.
She heard anyway. "Nothing! That's not what I'd call it, you low-lifed two-timer."
"Two-timer?" Jack said. "Are you two-timin' her, Charley? If you are, it's a real shame." He looked up at the beautiful young woman framed in the window. Why anybody would want to two-time a woman who looked like that was beyond him.
"He's a two-timer, all right," Lucille said. "I found out about it, and now he's trying to tell me that I've misjudged him. That's a good one. Misjudged him!" She laughed shortly. "I know what he is, and he's going to be sorry!"
She steadied the gun, getting ready to fire again, but Vincent called out and stopped her.
"Wait a second," he said. "Maybe all this is just a misunderstandin'. Let me talk to him."
"Fine. You do that. And then I'm going to finish him off."
"It's hot out here in the street," Jack complained. "Can't we talk about this somewhere else?"
"That might be a good idea," Vincent said. "But I don't think Miss Benteen's gonna go for it. Charley, what the hell have you got yourself into."
Charley looked sheepish. "Nothin'," he said.
Vincent looked pointedly at the woman holding the gun on them. "That ain't nothin'."
"Well, not much more'n nothin', then," Charley said. "It's just that she found out I'd been seein' somebody else before I started to court her, and she got mad about it."
He looked up at the window. "But I swear I didn't see her again, Lucille. Not more'n once, anyway."
Lucille pulled the trigger. This time she shot a hole through the high crown of Charley's hat, which flew off his head and into the street.
"She ain't real happy with you, and that's a fact," Vincent said. "Who were you seein', anyway?"
"The preacher's daughter," Charley said. "Liz Randall."
"Uh-oh," Jack said.
And Vincent thought, oh, hell.
13.
Consuela Morales was determined that her son was not going to die for the killing of Elizabeth Randall, even if she had to tell what she knew. She had never told about the people she had helped before; that was one of the reasons why she continued to have people coming to her house. If she had told about their problems, then they would not have trusted her.
They had begun coming in the first place because many of them did not trust Dr. Bigby, or even if they trusted him they did not think much of his abilities as a doctor. The truth was, many of her visitors had been to Bigby first and then, not being satisfied, had come to her.
She was never quite sure how she had received the reputation she had as a healer. It might have arisen because of the time she had cured one of the local men of the bite he had received from a rattler. She had happened to be nearby when he was bitten, and she had been able to cut the wound and suck out the poison. But she had done more. She had bound the wound and applied certain herbs that she knew about to the cut. It had healed perfectly and the man was convinced that she had saved him not because of the
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