The bit of queasiness in Nick’s belly was a reflex that had been developed in his youth and nurtured during his years of raising hell. To this day, he still felt it when he got too close to that many lawmen gathered in one place. Doing his best to look the part he was playing, Nick eased the sheriff’s door open and poked his head inside.
“Ah, there you are, Mister Graves,” Stilson said from inside the office. “Come on in.”
Stilson was standing at a large cabinet nailed to the wall behind his desk. Several rifles and a few shotguns could be seen inside the cabinet before Stilson closed it up and locked it with a small key. Motioning to a chair in front of his desk, Stilson said, “Have a seat.”
Nick removed his hat and held it in front of him to conceal his gun until he was properly situated on the chair. Just to be safe, Nick kept his hat on his lap even after he’d crossed his legs and draped his jacket over the modified Schofield.
“Graves,” Stilson muttered. “That’s an awfully fortuitous name for an undertaker, ain’t it?”
Nick shrugged.
“Is that your proper family name?”
Once he saw that the sheriff was going to wait until he had a response, Nick sighed and told him, “My father brought me to this country when I was a child and he couldn’t speak much English. He’s in my same line of work and was trying to get a job the moment we got off the boat. Someone heard him mention graves, so it was marked as our name.”
“That’s a nice story. So, what’s your real family name?”
“My wife told me you wanted talk to me,” Nick said. “I do have a business to run, so I’d appreciate it if we could get this done as quickly as possible.”
Sheriff Stilson nodded and drummed his fingers on top of his desk. “That was a hell of a thing that happened at the Van Meter ranch,” he finally said.
“Yeah. I believe my wife tried to get you over there before it was too late.”
“She did come over to tell us something about some men you saw at the graveyard.”
“And what did you do about it?” Nick asked.
“I did my job.” This time, it was the sheriff who found himself looking at an unyielding face that would not be satisfied by the short answer. “I found a bunch of men who work at Van Meter’s place at the Wheelbarrow and had a word with them. Not one of them knew something like this was going to happen.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I’d stake my badge on it.”
“Maybe you should do just that,” Nick muttered under his breath.
Stilson slapped both hands against the edge of his desk and leaned forward as if he meant to bite Nick’s head clean off his shoulders. “Excuse me? Could you repeat that a little louder?”
Looking at Stilson’s face, Nick was quickly reminded of why he’d never gotten along well with most lawmen. “I was just wondering why you happened to end your investigation at a saloon while a man was getting shot to pieces and his family was being killed in front of him.”
Stilson’s face remained impassive for a moment before he shifted his eyes away. Leaning back into his chair, the lawman rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand before shifting his hat a bit further back upon his head. “Actually, that brings me to the reason why I asked to have a word with you.”
“I’m here,” Nick said. “Say your piece.”
“My deputy and I didn’t while the night away at that saloon. In fact, we spent a good portion of time following up on what your…wife told us.”
The snide tone in the sheriff’s voice was hard to miss. Nick also picked up on how Stilson’s eyes flicked down to the empty spot on Nick’s left ring finger. He didn’t care for the lawman’s judgmental tone, but it wasn’t uncommon from those who didn’t know any better.
“Do you have something to say about my wife?” Nick asked.
And, just like that, the subject was closed.
“I’d rather talk about what we found when we went to that graveyard,” Stilson said.
Nick blinked in surprise and paused to make sure he couldn’t have heard something else. “Did you say you went to the graveyard?”
Stilson nodded.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because,” the sheriff said, “that’s where you supposedly saw these riders.”
“They were headed to the Van Meter place. Catherine must have told you.”
“And we had reliable witnesses say they didn’t see anyone anywhere near that ranch that didn’t belong there. Your wife was the one who told us you’d spotted some of those gunmen riding through the graveyard, so my deputy and I went there to see if they’d come back. You want to know what we found?”
Nick rubbed his eyes, but that didn’t do a bit of good against the ache that had settled in behind them. “Why don’t you tell me, so I can get on with my work?”
“I found a man that had damn near bled out in the trees.”
When he heard that, Nick felt as if he’d been jabbed in the gut. He looked up slowly to find the sheriff staring back at him expectantly. Without giving the sheriff anything in the form of a reaction, Nick asked, “Who was this man?”
“You know damn well who he was, Graves. Or, you at least know how he was wounded. Ain’t that so?” Leaning forward, Stilson asked, “You want to say hello?”
“Is that why you asked me to come over here?”
“Don’t you want to see him? He’s right over there,” the sheriff said while pointing toward the back of the office.
“Was he armed?”
“Yes.”
“So, you went looking for a gunman around that graveyard. You found one. Now, you think I had something to do with it? Who do you think told my wife to come get you in the first place?”
“I doubt she would have wanted me anywhere near this fella if she knew what kinds of things he had to say.”
“It’s too early in the morning for word games,” Nick said.
“All right, then. I’ll just cut right down to it. When I found that man, he was hanging on by a thread. Someone had cut him up pretty badly. He says it was the gravedigger and the last time I checked, you were the only gravedigger who works in this town.”
“Didn’t my wife tell you that I was attacked?”
“Yes and you seem to be making a good recovery. For your information, that’s also why he’s resting up in a jail cell as opposed to a bed in much more comfortable surroundings. The reason I asked you down here was so you could take a look at him and see if he’s one of the men you saw before.”
Nick could tell there was more to it than that. He could feel the sheriff’s eyes studying him and, so far, Nick figured he’d done fairly well under the lawman’s scrutiny.
“And what if he is?” Nick asked.
“Let’s just cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Getting up, Nick was careful to keep his jacket closed and his hat in front of him to make certain his gun remained out of sight. “Should I go back there and have a look?”
Gesturing toward the back of the office with a sweeping gesture, Stilson said, “Be my guest. Try not to get too close to the bars. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
Nick walked to the small room at the back of the sheriff’s office where rows of bars sectioned off four small cages separated by a wide but short aisle. The only occupied cell was in the right corner. Sitting there with his back to the wall was the man who’d been on the receiving end of Nick’s knife not too long ago. Judging by the frightened look in his wide eyes, the prisoner had no trouble recognizing Nick.
“You stay the hell away from me,” J. D. said.
Lowering his voice to a quick whisper, Nick hissed, “I could finish the job I started real quickly, so just pretend like you never saw me and I’ll be on my way.”
Seeing the disbelief in J. D.’s eyes, Nick opened his jacket just enough for J. D. to get a look at the gun at his side. The prisoner’s jaw dropped and he pulled in a breath. Before he could say anything, Nick cut him off.
