Read Online Blood on the Verde River by Dusty Richards - Free Book Online

better job in Preskitt,” Chet said.
    â€œHell, I’d gave her a raise.”
    Chet shook his head. “It’s not your fault. She needed to leave here. Too many bad experiences.”
    â€œYou all three want breakfast?”
    â€œYes and coffee,” Chet said to him.
    They took seats at the bar and coffee was poured right away. Chet felt sorry for the owner. Customers would soon file in for their breakfast. They’d miss Valerie. She had lots of get up and go to get things done.
    They got their meals and watched all the mix-ups made by the new help the owner had called in. Jenn would love that girl.
    â€œThis guy who told Bonnie Allen he had a better job for her, he lives in town?” JD asked.
    â€œYes. We’re going to watch him around the clock until we figure out his business. We’ll find Marshall White and get him to tell me where this Bernard Whittle lives.”
    They finished their breakfast quickly and headed to the marshal’s office first.
    â€œDon’t you hate walking around all over this damn town?” JD asked, making a disgusted face over their situation.
    Chet laughed. “Yes, I’d like a helluva lot more to ride.”
    â€œMe too,” Jesus agreed.
    â€œSorry, cowboys, but this one’s a leg job.”
    They found Marshal White in his office, yawning after his all-night shift.
    â€œOh, morning,” White said recognizing Chet.
    â€œMorning, Marshal. This is my nephew JD and Jesus. What can you tell us about Bernard Whittle?”
    The marshal acknowledged the young men with a nod. “Barney is what they call him. He has some mining interest around here. Must make money at it. He lives pretty high.”
    Chet flat told him, “That good old boy sells women into slavery.”
    â€œOh, hell. I had no damn idea. You sure?”
    â€œI think we have three good witnesses that would swear to it. He a friend of yours?”
    White shook his head. Scrubbing his beard stubble with his palm, he asked, “What can I do for you?”
    â€œI want to confront him.”
    â€œIf you have word on it, I don’t blame you, but I can’t do much unless we have solid proof.”
    â€œYou’ve been square with Jenn, so I decided to tell you our purpose. We’ll try not to break the law.”
    White warily shook his head. “I walk a tightrope in this damn town with old man Clanton on the left and the mine owners on the right. Throw in the merchants trying to make a living and it’s real crazy.”
    â€œYou have no idea who Whittle’s contacts are?” Chet asked.
    â€œNo. No idea. People do shifty things and conceal them. If he’s involved in this trade, he is a master of that business.”
    â€œAny use to talk to the sheriff?” Chet asked.
    White blinked at him. “John Behan? No, he’s not worth a damn either.”
    His words amused the three standing around him.
    Frustrated, Chet asked, “Can you at least give us Whittle’s address?”
    The marshal nodded and gave directions to the slaver’s house.
    â€œYou need some sleep. Thanks for the information.” Chet shook the marshal’s hand. So did the others.
    â€œI just hope you find her.”
    â€œOh, we’re trying.”
    They set out with JD grumbling about being on foot again. Past the Masonic Hall, they went down the hill and found Whittle’s wooden framed house. They climbed the porch and heard a back door slam.
    â€œJD go see who that was and hold him if you need to.” Chet nodded to Jesus to go along and back him.
    They left on the fly.
    Chet knocked on the door.
    A gray-haired woman answered from behind a half open door. “Yes?”
    â€œI need to talk to Mr. Whittle.”
    She shook her head. “He’s not here.”
    â€œOh, yeah he is,” JD said, herding a gray-haired man around the side of the house.
    â€œWhat is this about?” Whittle asked angrily.
    Chet