A Town Called Fury

street toward them. He parted a gathering crowd of spectators.

“What is it? What happened?” he shouted, his gun in his hand. And then he saw the body, sheltered by the bodies of the doc and Father Clayton. He turned his attention toward Abe. “Is it Gunderson?”

“Yup. Don’t know what the hell he was doin’, drawin’ down on these fellers, but there wasn’t a lotta time to ask him.”

A new voice spoke up. “Why, I don’t believe that was his intention at all! I’ve been watching him for several minutes, and it looked to me as if he was only practicing with his firearm.”

Jason looked at him. “And you saw this from where, Reverend Milcher?”

The reverend walked forward, then pointed down the alley to a window roughly ten feet beyond where Gunderson’s body lay.

Jason said, “So you couldn’t see the street?”

“I’m afraid not.”

If you were to ask Abe, he thought the sheriff looked pretty damned relieved to have Gunderson off his plate. And he wondered why they were taking so long just standing around when they could be carting the body off and getting on down to the jail.

And then Jason said, “Doc, you wanta help us haul him to the undertakers? C’mon, Abe.” He stepped through the alley, where he picked up an arm. Abe took the other one, and the two of them dragged Gunderson out into the street.

Abigail Krimp had come out to see what had caused the commotion, and stood in the street, arms folded, head shaking. “That’s a true and certain shame,” she said, “killin’ a pretty boy like that. Don’t he look just like one’a them angels in an Eye-talian paintin’?”

“He was drawing on Doctor Morelli and a member of the priesthood, Abigail,” Jason said through clenched teeth. Dragging bodies through the streets didn’t appear to be one of his favorite chores.

“He’s purty, though,” Abigail said with a sigh before she turned and walked back up toward her bar.

Abe, Jason, and now Dr. Morelli walked in the opposite direction, bearing Teddy Gunderson’s corpse between them.

And Abe was thinking, Hell, and it ain’t even close to noon, yet!

It was the beginning of a very active day in Fury.

13

Once they had Teddy at the undertakers, Doctor Morelli set to work on him, and discovered that Abe Todd’s slug had taken him right through the heart. This explained the lack of blood flow to Jason, anyway. Abe didn’t seem as if he much cared, one way or another, because all he said after Morelli made his announcement was, “So now we only got Davis to fret about.”

He didn’t even bother to turn around. He just stood by the window, amid stacks of chairs and tables and other things (the undertaker also being the town’s furniture maker), and stared out into the street.

“We need to get back over to the office,” Jason said, lifting his eyes from the corpse. It really was a shame, he was thinking. Teddy Gunderson had his whole life ahead of him, but he’d chosen to throw it away. He shook his head. He turned to Doc Morelli, who was washing his hands in the basin. “You’ll wait for the undertaker, Doc?”

Morelli shook water droplets from his hands, then picked up a towel. “That I will, but he’d best hurry. I need to get up to see Solomon and Rachael’s baby.”

“How is she, anyway?”

“Not good, the last time I saw her.”

“Whole town’s prayin’ for her, Doc.” Well, most of it was, anyway.

Morelli nodded. “Let’s hope it helps.”

Jason and Abe crossed the street, went into the office, and took seats on either side of the desk before they realized they had company. Rafe Lynch sat on a bunk in the first cell. His head was hanging down, and Jason said, “Rafe?”

Rafe looked up. “’Fraid so. Heard the shot and figured it might be a good idea to get my butt over here. Was I right?”

“You were.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Rafe Lynch, meet—”

Rafe stood up and Abe turned toward him. “Abe Todd!” He broke out into a big grin. “Spiders and snakes, it’s been a coon’s age!” He walked toward them. Abe stood up and met him in the middle of the floor, and they pounded each other’s backs like long-lost friends instead of a marshal and an outlaw, Jason thought. He found himself on his feet, too.

“Hold your horses!” he said, breaking up the gabfest. “What’s goin’ on?”

Rafe, still grinning, said, “Why, me and Abe, here, are old buddies!”

“Knowed him since he was in diddies,” Abe said.

“Thanks for admittin’ how much older’n me you are.”

“You better watch your step, you punk kid!” Abe joked.