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

have stood there by him for another second.
    Reaching Boutelle and Kelly, he turned right and started back for the hotel. The two men fell into step beside him.
    â€œWhat’d he say?” asked Appleface.
    â€œNothing,” said Finley. He didn’t want to talk about it.
    â€œWho is he?” asked Boutelle. “And why did the Apaches ride here to see him?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Finley said tensely. “He told me nothing.”
    â€œYou think there’s gonna be trouble with the Injuns?” Kelly asked.
    â€œIf they’d come in to make trouble,” Finley told him, “they could have wiped us out. You know that.”
    Appleface grunted. “That’s so.” His step faltered. “Well . . . I better get me some clothes on before I get arrested. I’ll see ya later.”
    â€œAll right.” Finley kept walking determinedly toward the hotel, trying to rid himself of the cold and frightened restlessness in his gut. He’d never felt like this in his life, and he neither liked nor understood it.
    Kelly fell out of step and turned away from them. As he walked back to his boardinghouse he kept glancing across the street to where the man sat. Who in the hell is he, Kelly wondered, that Braided Feather should come riding all the way into town just to see him?
    â€œThe man told you absolutely nothing?” Boutelle asked after Kelly had left them.
    â€œOnly that he wants to see the Night Doctor,” Finley said, hoping this would satisfy the younger man.
    â€œWho in God’s name is the Night Doctor?” asked Boutelle.
    â€œAn Apache shaman,” Finley answered. “A medicine man,” he added as Boutelle started to say something. “He was a member of Braided Feather’s tribe.”
    â€œWas?”
    Finley grunted, glancing back over his shoulder. The man still sat in the same position, looking up at the hotel. Finley traced the line of his gaze and saw that it ended on the second story—perhaps on the window of Professor Dodge’s room, it occurred to him. Although how the man knew where Dodge’s room was, was another question added to the rest.
    â€œIs he dead?” asked Boutelle.
    Finley started. “What?”
    â€œThe Night Doctor,” Boutelle said acidly. “Is he dead?”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Finley.
    â€œWhy did he leave his tribe?”
    â€œHe didn’t leave it; he was driven out,” Finley answered. “Braided Feather outlawed him.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Finley pushed open the hotel door and started in.
    â€œFor tampering,” he said.
    â€œWhat do you—”
    Boutelle stopped. The Vances were in the lobby, turning from one of the windows where they had been watching. Realizing the state of his dress, Boutelle headed directly for the stairs. After he was dressed, he’d confront Finley again and this time, by heaven, the agent had better give straight answers and stop this nonsense about any Night Doctor. If Finley thought for one second that he could condone the Apaches’ obvious disinclination to abide by the conditions of the treaty—not the least of which was the clearly stated rule that they were to keep away from Picture City—he had another think coming. And on the day after the meeting, too! Good God, did Finley think him an idiot?
    Finley, at that moment, was thinking of anything but Boutelle’s mental capacity.
    â€œNo, it wasn’t a war party,” he was assuring Mrs. Vance. “They were here to see a man. Which is what I want to—”
    â€œYes, we saw,” said Mrs. Vance. “He’s the same one who came here last night.”
    Quickly, she told Finley about the previous night. As she described the open window and the footprints ending in front of it, the agent stared at her almost blankly.
    â€œYou think he . . . went
out
the window?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t see