Read Online The Devil's Collector by J. R. Roberts - Free Book Online

trouble.”
    Clint noticed that the deputy was having a hard time keeping his eyes off him, so he assumed the young man knew who he was. That probably meant the sheriff knew he was in town, and probably Jack Sonnet, too.
    But the deputy was trying his best to ignore him.

TWENTY-TWO
    Clint nursed his beer while the deputy talked with the bartender, waiting to see if the badge toter would finally give in and talk to him. But as much as the young man was straining to, he was apparently able to resist the urge.
    â€œI gotta get back to my rounds,” the deputy told the bartender.
    â€œYeah, you better get out there.”
    The deputy gave one last sidelong look at Clint and then left.
    â€œHe’s pretty young to be a deputy, isn’t he?” Clint asked.
    â€œWill? Yeah, he’s a local kid the sheriff gave a job to.”
    â€œHe seemed real interested in me, didn’t he?”
    â€œOh, you noticed that?” the bartender asked. “I guess you know when you get recognized, huh?”
    â€œIt’s kind of hard not to notice,” Clint said. “What was his problem? He have orders not to bother me?”
    â€œMy guess is the sheriff wants to talk to you first,” the bartender said. “Will has a habit of sayin’ the wrong thing.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œYou want another one, Mr. Adams?”
    â€œNo,” Clint said, pushing the empty mug away. “I think I’m going to turn in.”
    â€œYou have a good night.”
    â€œBefore I go,” Clint said.
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œThere was a shooting in town a few months ago.”
    â€œWas that a friend of yours?”
    â€œDidn’t know him,” Clint said. “But I heard about it. What can you tell me?”
    â€œNot much,” the man said, leaning on the bar. “Five men gunned down one. Nobody saw it.”
    â€œNobody?” Clint asked. “That kind of a shooting and not one witness?”
    The bartender shrugged.
    â€œOr is it just that nobody is coming forward?”
    â€œDon’t know why that would be,” the bartender said. “The man who was killed was a stranger. Nobody knew him.”
    â€œThat does sound odd,” Clint said. “What’s your name?”
    â€œI’m Dan.”
    â€œThanks for talking to me, Dan.”
    â€œSure, Mr. Adams,” Dan the bartender said. “You have yourself a good night.”
    â€œYou, too.”
    Clint left the saloon.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Outside, Will Romer crossed the street to where Sheriff Koster stood.
    â€œWell?”
    â€œHe was in there.”
    â€œAlone?”
    â€œYup.”
    â€œDid you talk to him?”
    â€œNo, sir,” Romer said. “I did what you told me.”
    â€œOkay,” Koster said. “Now go home.”
    â€œBut, Sheriff—”
    â€œGo on home, Will,” Koster said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Koster watched his deputy walk away, then turned his attention to the hotel. He watched for about half an hour before he turned and also went home.

TWENTY-THREE
    In the morning Clint waited for Sonnet in the lobby and then they went into the hotel dining room for breakfast. Over steak and eggs, Clint told Sonnet what his plan was.
    â€œI want you to keep quiet,” he said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œLet me do all the talking,” Clint said, “unless I ask you a question.”
    â€œWell . . . okay.”
    â€œThe sheriff is going to be curious about my part in this,” Clint said. “He’ll also be curious about why you’re back here. We’re not necessarily going to satisfy his curiosity in either case. But we’ll see if we can get some of our own questions answered.”
    â€œOkay,” Sonnet said. “I’ll let you call the play, Clint.”
    They finished their breakfast, left the hotel, and walked over to the sheriff’s