Read Online Colorado Sam by Jim Woolard - Free Book Online Page B

incline, slid back down the bank, and rolled on him.”
    Â Â  The foreman removed his Stetson and swiped sweat from his balding head. “That pretty much matches up with what we found—your uncle at the bottom of the bank, back and ribs crushed and broken. We located his loose horse a day later. The pony’s far side was caked with mud.”
    Â Â  Heft Thomas paused and looked Nathan in the eye. “But there’s one thing that don’t match up with the idea a horse rolling on him is the whole story.” 
    Â Â  “And what’s that?” an intrigued Nathan asked. 
    Â Â  Heft Thomas minced no words. 
    Â Â  “He drew his pistol.”

Nine
    Â Â  Nathan wasn’t subject to fits of abject stupidity. Nevertheless, he was having difficulty following Heft Thomas’ train of thought. “How can you be certain Uncle drew his pistol? And why’s that so all fired important?” 
    Â Â  “Your uncle’s pistol was lying apart from his body with the barrel buried in the mud,” Heft Thomas said. “He wore a cross-draw holster like yours and mine. So his holster was on his left hip and the pony fell to the right. When I rolled your uncle over his holster was still in front of his left hip. The tie down thong on the holster wasn’t broken, meaning he slipped it off the hammer so he could draw his gun. What sticks in my craw is, why draw his pistol with his horse sliding backwards down a steep bank.” 
    Â Â  It was as if the foreman touched a match to a candle in a dark room. “He saw or heard something more dangerous than his horse falling,” Nathan ventured. 
    Â Â  “Congratulations, Nephew,” Heft Thomas said. “You’ve roped a winner.” 
    Â Â  “Maybe his horse smelled a bear,” Nathan suggested. “I’ve read there’s lots of bears in Colorado.” 
    Â Â  “That’s true,” the foreman agreed. “But if your uncle’s pony smelled a bear, he wouldn’t even start up the bank. No cow pony will go near a bear, not even if you sink your spurs into him.”
    Â Â  “What else could have scared Uncle’s horse?”
    Â Â  Heft Thomas let fly. “Somebody was stalking your uncle. The stalker could safely guess he’d cross the creek here at the ford. It was too dark and raining too hard to chance the bank just any old place.” The foreman shook his head and sighed. “Your uncle rode plumb into his sights, head ducked against the rain. Somehow, the stalker fired and missed. I believe the gunshot spooked your uncle’s pony as he was drawing his pistol. Before he could shoot back, the pony lost his balance, fell, and rolled on him.” 
    Â Â  It was a lot for Nathan to accept all at once. He walked to the top of the creek bank and stood next to the foreman, studying the ford. “Mr. Thomas, it could’ve happened just the way you believe it did. But Ira Westfall would say we’re holding a bucket full of warm manure and little else.” 
    Â Â  Nathan’s bluntness didn’t irritate Heft Thomas. Neither did it provoke his temper. “He the fellow sent you out here from St. Louis?”
    Â Â  “Yes, Sir. He hires the guards for Father’s warehouses. He told me about the murders he investigated when he was a detective with the St. Louis police. Mr. Westfall claims it’s almost impossible to convict anybody of murder unless you have a witness. More than once he was satisfied he’d identified the murderer, but without witnesses, an arrest was pointless.”
    Â Â  Heft Thomas grinned and spat in the creek. “Nephew, you might do to tip the glass with, you just might.” 
    Â Â  The foreman’s knowing grin wasn’t lost on Nathan and his cheeks reddened. He hadn’t told Heft Thomas anything the foreman didn’t already know.