Read Online Shadow on the Sun by Richard Matheson - Free Book Online Page A

here?”
    The two of them turned as Appleface Kelly came stomping up, wearing a long, gray overcoat over his nightshirt. His eyes were puffy with sleep, and there was a growth of dark stubble on his cheeks. In his hands he carried a rifle.
    â€œI thought there was a treaty with them bastards,” he said.
    â€œThere is,” said Finley. “This has nothing to do with the treaty. They rode in to see him.” He gestured toward the man across the street.
    Appleface squinted at the man. “Him again,” he said.
    â€œYou’ve seen him before?” asked Finley.
    Appleface told him what had happened at the Sidewinder Saloon the night before.
    â€œHe asked for Dodge?” said Finley. This thing was getting beyond him.
    â€œThat’s what Eddie Harkness figgered he wanted,” said Appleface. He glanced across the street. “Wonder who in hell he is anyway,” he said.
    â€œMaybe we’d better find out,” said Finley.
    â€œI would like to—” Boutelle began, then stopped as the Indian agent stepped away.
    â€œWatch y’self,” Kelly muttered after him.
    Finley nodded once as he started across the muddy street toward the man, who, apparently oblivious to the agent’s approach, had gone back to the chair and was looking toward the hotel again.
    Finley stepped up onto the walk.
    â€œGood morning,” he said.
    He was not prepared for the sudden tightening that took place in his stomach muscles when the man’s eyes turned to his. It took an effort of will to keep his voice from faltering.
    â€œMy name is Finley,” he said, trying to sound casually affable. “I’m the Indian agent for this territory.”
    The man looked at him without answering.
    â€œYou—speak English?” asked Finley. Kelly had said that he did, but there seemed to be no reception in the man’s face. He eyed Finley without blinking, his face as still as a rock.
    â€œIf I can help you in any way . . .” Finley went on, talking more from instinct than design. “I know the Indians who just spoke to you and—”
    There was a sudden glittering in the man’s eyes which made him stop.
    â€œYou know the Night Doctor?” asked the man.
    Finley felt a chill lace through the muscles of his back. The way the man had asked it, almost hungrily.
    â€œI know of him,” said Finley.
    â€œ
Where is he
?” asked the man.
    Finley realized in that instant that he would not have told the man where the Night Doctor was even if he knew. He had no reason for this except a feeling in his gut.
    â€œI don’t know that,” he said.
    The man turned away, no longer interested in Finley. Why does he want to see the Night Doctor? the agent wondered.
    He was about to say something about knowing Professor Dodge when the man raised his head a little to see who it was that was riding into town down beyond the hotel. And Finley saw the scar.
    He couldn’t take his eyes off it. They were still fixed to the discolored line of tissue when the man turned and looked at him.
    Finley drew in a quick breath and forced his eyes up.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said.
    Looking into the man’s eyes was like staring into two black pits.
    â€œThat must have been . . . quite a cut,” Finley heard himself saying.
    The man’s brutally appraising look altered. Abruptly, almost terribly, he was smiling, but it was not a smile that bore warmth for Finley or for anyone.
    â€œSomeone cut my head off once,” he said.
    Finley shuddered. “Really?” he said, but the bantering tone he tried to put in his voice failed completely.
    He stood looking into the man’s black eyes for another moment. Then, without another word, he turned and stepped down off the walk. He knew he had learned nothing, that if anything he had been made a fool of. Yet he also knew that he’d had to get away from the man, that he couldn’t