The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3)
Page 35
I guessed that my three companions were close to my age, and I had just celebrated my thirty-first birthday. Richard showed the fastidiousness of a printer and was afflicted with a strain of grumpiness that could become endearing once you got to know him. And he was a good whist player—short spades during the last hand.
My partner, Jeremiah, ran the general store and had a good head for numbers and an even better head for cards.
Dr. Dooley wore the crumpled look and grouchy manner of a seasoned physician. I presume he thought this would boost patients’ confidence, but I preferred my doctors young and recently educated rather than old and world-weary.
These were three smart men trapped in a dusty, hot town that pined for a wisp of breeze or a cleansing shower. Since I had arrived, neither blessing had interrupted the kilnlike days that invariably melded into flat, windless nights.
As I dealt the next hand, little Jemmy stuck his head in the open door and yelled, “Hey, Doc! Brian Cutler shot Dave Masters!”
“Hurt bad?” Dooley asked.
“Dead.”
“Then it’s the undertaker’s problem, not mine.”
“Don’t you want to look at the body?”
“Seen dead bodies before. Run along, Jemmy. We got a serious game here.”
A serious game was two bits a point, but the size of the bet meant nothing. With the last hand, ol’ Doc and Richard led eleven to six, and evidently, no ordinary killing was going to cut short their grab for glory.
I stopped shuffling and asked, “Richard, don’t you need to go get the story?”
“Not news. Deal.”
“Not news?”
“The Cutlers are a vile bunch,” Richard explained. “Two brothers … each as mean as a diamondback. They come to town every couple of weeks to get drunk, visit Ruby’s, shoot some poor son of a bitch, and get a bath. Pretty much in that order.”
I ignored Richard’s wave that prompted me to deal the cards. “What about the law?” I asked.
“As long as the Cutlers pay for damages, the sheriff turns a blind eye.” He made another hand motion. “Damn it, quit stalling and deal them cards. It’s time you took the licking you deserve.”
I passed the deck to my right, but Dooley declined to cut. When I continued to hesitate, Richard made another Hurry up gesture. I knew the command to deal must hide a larger story, but their faces told me this was all I was going to get, at least tonight. A man killed, but the town newspaperman and the sole doctor barely blink. This was the West, and Pickhandle Gulch was remote and isolated, but my new friends’ reaction seemed surprisingly subdued.
I glanced at the other men one more time. No one volunteered to enlighten me, so I shrugged and dealt the cards.
Acknowledgement
I would like to thank retired police sergeant Gary Marshall for his invaluable assistance and guidance on police policies, operations, and tactics. I would also like to thank Professor Richard Bigus, Alan Burns, and the Castles for their enormous help throughout the process. I’m indebted to the authors of countless books on the Templars, Islamic history, and Freemasons. Wayne, my son, has again designed a great book cover. I’m recovering his pricy art school tuition one book cover at a time. Most of all, I would like to thank my wife and muse Diane. She is my first, second and third draft editor. How tiresome that must be.
Finally, all errors are my own. I was unable to convince any of the above people to accept blame.
Thank You
If you enjoyed this book, then I would appreciate you posting a review and telling everyone you know. If you didn’t enjoy it … mum’s the word.
Also by James D. Best
The Shopkeeper
Leadville
Murder at Thumb Butte
The Return
Jenny’s Revenge
Crossing the Animas
No Peace
The Shut Mouth Society
Deluge
The Templar Reprisals
Tempest at Dawn
Principled Action, Lessons from the Origins of the American Republic
Write Great Fiction
The Digital Organization
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Thanks again.