Read Online The Deputy - Edge Series 2 by George G. Gilman - Free Book Online
Authors: George G. Gilman
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Bishopsburg.’
‘My plans depend on finding work.’
Straker expressed tacit inability to help. Then he had an inspiration but sighed and grimaced as he offered apologetically:
‘The only man I’d guess will be hiring on right now is Clyde Grover. He’s the undertaker: has a workshop along Mossman Road. He’ll be needing help with the grave digging chores. We never before had more than two people die around here in a week far as I can recall. Clyde brought in five dead bodies from the Bellamy place real early this morning.’
‘Much obliged, but I’m not too pushed for ready cash just yet.’
From beyond the barred door Martinez muttered with heavy menace: ‘Do not turn your nose up at such a lowly task, amigo! Because if I am not set free very soon the digging of graves will provide much regular work for men in this town. Those who are still alive!’
44
Straker turned to snarl his usual response but then sighed heavily and made a dismissive gesture with both hands. Raised one in farewell as he heard the door open and looked around in time to see Edge leave the office.
Outside, somebody nearby rasped: ‘Hey, mister!’
The husky voice drew Edge’s attention across the front of the law office facing Main Street. And he saw a boy of fifteen or sixteen leaning out of a narrow alley between the building he had just left and the as yet unopened for business telegraph office next door. Edge looked around and saw there was nobody else in the immediate vicinity as the boy said with an emphatic nod:
‘Yeah, I mean you mister.’
Edge moved toward him as he made a beckoning gesture while he looked uneasily around.
The youngster was five feet ten and if he was still growing it was only upwards. For he was painfully thin, although there was about his tanned complexion and the clearness of his blue eyes no sign of under-nourishment.
His hands were scarred and ingrained with many days’ dirt from heavy manual labour and his battered hat, torn shirt, stained dungarees and scuffed boots signalled his hard work was for a meagre living.
‘I just seen you and Mr Straker in the office when I looked in the window. Sheriff North ain’t around, I guess?’
‘He’s out of town. Who are you, kid?’
Edge judged the boy was not overly intelligent. He had a slow manner of talking, there was a slackness about his mouth and his shining eyes had a disconcerting way of remaining fixed on the middle of Edge’s chest while he was speaking. Darting away to look mistrustfully around while he listened.
He shuffled his feet, blinked several times and furrowed his brow like he had been asked a question far beyond his capabilities to answer. Then he said: ‘Bob Frank Carter. My pa’s got a spread out along Mossman Road a-ways. Couple of miles or so off in the country.’
‘Something wrong at the place, kid?’
The boy suddenly grinned broadly and shook his head. ‘No, sir. Everything’s fine and dandy out at the farm. But I been sent by a couple of gents to come to Bishopsburg with a message for the sheriff.’
‘He ain’t here but I guess Deputy Straker will take it. And he’ll pass it on to the sheriff when he gets back from – ‘
45
A rapid shaking of the head as the grin was displaced by a look of intense concentration, like the boy was having to drag something from deep within his memory. Then: ‘No, sir. I ain’t allowed to do that. I gotta give the message to the sheriff. Or if I can’t do that, then I gotta give it to you, Mr Edge.’
Edge looked up and down the length of Main Street, which was a little busier than earlier. But nobody was paying any attention to him and the boy at the mouth at the mouth of the alley.
Bob Frank said proudly: ‘I guess you’re trying to figure out how I knowed you was him? Ain’t that right, Mr Edge? Seeing as how you’re a stranger to these parts and I didn’t oughta know you from Adam?’
‘I’m curious about the whole thing, kid.’
‘See, I was told already
‘My plans depend on finding work.’
Straker expressed tacit inability to help. Then he had an inspiration but sighed and grimaced as he offered apologetically:
‘The only man I’d guess will be hiring on right now is Clyde Grover. He’s the undertaker: has a workshop along Mossman Road. He’ll be needing help with the grave digging chores. We never before had more than two people die around here in a week far as I can recall. Clyde brought in five dead bodies from the Bellamy place real early this morning.’
‘Much obliged, but I’m not too pushed for ready cash just yet.’
From beyond the barred door Martinez muttered with heavy menace: ‘Do not turn your nose up at such a lowly task, amigo! Because if I am not set free very soon the digging of graves will provide much regular work for men in this town. Those who are still alive!’
44
Straker turned to snarl his usual response but then sighed heavily and made a dismissive gesture with both hands. Raised one in farewell as he heard the door open and looked around in time to see Edge leave the office.
Outside, somebody nearby rasped: ‘Hey, mister!’
The husky voice drew Edge’s attention across the front of the law office facing Main Street. And he saw a boy of fifteen or sixteen leaning out of a narrow alley between the building he had just left and the as yet unopened for business telegraph office next door. Edge looked around and saw there was nobody else in the immediate vicinity as the boy said with an emphatic nod:
‘Yeah, I mean you mister.’
Edge moved toward him as he made a beckoning gesture while he looked uneasily around.
The youngster was five feet ten and if he was still growing it was only upwards. For he was painfully thin, although there was about his tanned complexion and the clearness of his blue eyes no sign of under-nourishment.
His hands were scarred and ingrained with many days’ dirt from heavy manual labour and his battered hat, torn shirt, stained dungarees and scuffed boots signalled his hard work was for a meagre living.
‘I just seen you and Mr Straker in the office when I looked in the window. Sheriff North ain’t around, I guess?’
‘He’s out of town. Who are you, kid?’
Edge judged the boy was not overly intelligent. He had a slow manner of talking, there was a slackness about his mouth and his shining eyes had a disconcerting way of remaining fixed on the middle of Edge’s chest while he was speaking. Darting away to look mistrustfully around while he listened.
He shuffled his feet, blinked several times and furrowed his brow like he had been asked a question far beyond his capabilities to answer. Then he said: ‘Bob Frank Carter. My pa’s got a spread out along Mossman Road a-ways. Couple of miles or so off in the country.’
‘Something wrong at the place, kid?’
The boy suddenly grinned broadly and shook his head. ‘No, sir. Everything’s fine and dandy out at the farm. But I been sent by a couple of gents to come to Bishopsburg with a message for the sheriff.’
‘He ain’t here but I guess Deputy Straker will take it. And he’ll pass it on to the sheriff when he gets back from – ‘
45
A rapid shaking of the head as the grin was displaced by a look of intense concentration, like the boy was having to drag something from deep within his memory. Then: ‘No, sir. I ain’t allowed to do that. I gotta give the message to the sheriff. Or if I can’t do that, then I gotta give it to you, Mr Edge.’
Edge looked up and down the length of Main Street, which was a little busier than earlier. But nobody was paying any attention to him and the boy at the mouth at the mouth of the alley.
Bob Frank said proudly: ‘I guess you’re trying to figure out how I knowed you was him? Ain’t that right, Mr Edge? Seeing as how you’re a stranger to these parts and I didn’t oughta know you from Adam?’
‘I’m curious about the whole thing, kid.’
‘See, I was told already
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