Read Online The Double-Jack Murders: A Sheriff Bo Tully Mystery (Sheriff Bo Tully Mysteries) by Patrick F. McManus - Free Book Online

maybe Bunny does, too. So get yourselves armed. He may be driving a red Humvee. And he’s probably wearing one of those stupid caps with the earmuffs tied up on top.”
    “Those caps are great, Bo! Don’t call them stupid, because I wear one myself when I’m hunting.”
    “Sorry about that, Bernice. I’m sure you look lovely in your hat. But if a guy shows up at your door wearing one, kill him.”
    “What if it’s the wrong man?”
    “I’ll take care of that later.”
    “Is that what you call the Blight Way?”
    “You got it, Bernice. The Blight Way. Another thing. I’ve got one of my deputies, Ernie Thorpe, headed up to the ranch to stay with you. He’s a young, good-looking guy and should be wearing a uniform. Don’t shoot him. He’ll stay with you until we take care of this maniac that’s running around. See you soon, Bernice.” He punched the off button.
    Pap stuck his head in the cab. “The pickup is just sitting there, Bo.”
    “Yeah, I see it. We better get up Deadman a ways and make camp. You still have enough daylight to check the creek for gold.”
    Tully almost missed the turnoff to Deadman, the road was so grown up with brush and small trees and some trees not so small. He plowed into the road anyway, then stopped. “Pap, get out and turn the hubs. We have to four-wheel it from here.”
    “How come I got to do all the work? Next time, Dave can set next to the door!” He climbed out and turned the hubs, then climbed back in and started to roll himself a cigarette, possibly as an act of revenge.
    First Kincaid and now I got Pap trying to kill me, Tully thought. The truck growled ahead through a narrow green tunnel of brush and trees, branches scraping both sides and screeching like a large animal in serious torment.
    Dave said, “After this I’ll be surprised if you have any paint left on your truck.”
    “It’s the latest style, especially in twenty-year-old Idaho pickups. I’ll sell it to you cheap when we get out of here, Dave.”
    “If we get out of here!”
    “If we don’t, I’ll sell it to you even cheaper.”

7
    AFTER TWENTY MINUTES of plowing through brush, Tully turned the pickup down toward the creek. They suddenly emerged into a park-like area beneath giant hemlocks. Pap, grumbling, helped Tully pitch his white-wall hunting tent with the stovepipe of his sheepherder stove running up through the roof. Tully set up three cots inside, laid foam pads on top of them, and spread sleeping bags out on the pads. Dave cleaned out the old fire pit, lined it with new rocks, gathered up several armloads of dry wood, and dumped them by the pit. Pap sat on a log and bossed. With the camp set up to his satisfaction, he put on his hip boots and plodded down to the creek to try his gold dredge.
    Tully tied back the canvas door flaps to air out the tent.They were already hot from the sun. Tully loved the smell of hot canvas. Then he walked over to inspect Dave’s fire pit and woodpile.
    Dave said, “I’m wondering if it’s such a good idea for us to be sitting around a campfire at night. Kincaid could sneak in here and blast us.”
    “Anything’s possible,” Tully said. “You get out away from the hemlocks, though, and the terrain is steep and thick with brush and generally pretty nasty, even for Kincaid.” He pointed through a narrow opening in the trees to a bare ridge overlooking the camp. “My guess is he would slip in up there. The shot would be three hundred yards but a piece of cake for Kincaid. He would have a clear shot and probably could even fix himself up a rest for the rifle. But you have to remember it’s me he’s after. With the three of us sitting around the campfire at night, he wouldn’t be able to tell me from you or Pap. Say he shoots you first by mistake, Dave. Pap and I would dive for cover and grab our rifles.”
    “Why me?”
    “Why do you think I brought you along?”
    “I did wonder.”
    Tully laughed. “I’m not letting Kincaid or anybody else