“Aye, but there is also the murder of your two ranch hands, Hastings and Carson, as well as Sobel, Knox, and Cecil Gibson.”
“Oh, but you are mistaken in calling those murders. When Slim Hastings and Dooley Carson were killed by Knox, you might remember that those were deemed to be justifiable homicides, and no charges were filed. Later, Mr. Sobel was killed, also by Knox, and I will grant you that, that was a murder, which resulted in Knox himself being killed. But when my brother killed Knox it could be classified as a line-of-duty shooting, not only because Knox had just murdered Mr. Sobel, but also because Knox was a wanted man, with a dead-or-alive warrant placed upon him. And as for Mr. Gibson, well, that was most lamentable, but it, too, was a case of justifiable homicide. When the territorial deputies confiscated Spivey’s cattle, which was quite legal because the cattle had infringed upon private property, Cecil Gibson drew his gun in an attempt to shoot the deputies. He was, himself, shot.”
“’Tis perhaps only a coincidence, Mr. Houser, but have you considered that all those killings have happened just since you arrived in the valley?”
“Are you making a correlation between my presence and these killings?” Houser asked.
“A correlation, aye, for that they have all happened since you arrival can nae be denied. But whether ye be answerable . . . ’tis something that I will study.”
“Surely, sir, you are not suggesting that I am a subject of your investigation?” Houser challenged.
“Aye, that is exactly what I am suggesting,” Duff said.
“Why, I don’t even carry a gun.”
“Neither did Arabi Pasha in Egypt, but he managed to have a great number of my fellow soldiers killed. ’Tis a fact, Mr. Houser, that one can be responsible for killing, without being the one who pulls the trigger. And if I find, in my investigation, that you are accountable, I will see that you stand trial.”
Chapter Thirty-three
“You want me to kill him?” Shamrock asked after Duff left.
“No,” Houser replied. “That is, I want him killed, but I don’t want you to do it. I need him killed in a way that cannot be traced back to me.”
“Bodine,” Shamrock said.
“Who?”
“Didn’t you tell me that MacCallister kilt Zeke Bodine?”
“Yes, or so I have been told. The story I heard is that Bodine and two others attempted to hold up a stagecoach on which MacCallister and the Chinaman were passengers. The Chinaman killed one of the would-be robbers and MacCallister killed the other two. One of the two men that MacCallister killed was Zeke Bodine. But what does that have to do with the situation at hand?”
“Lucien Bodine is in town. I seen ’im yesterday. All I have to do is tell ’im that MacCallister is the one what kilt his brother, ’n he’ll kill MacCallister for us.”
“What makes you think he will believe you?”
“He’ll believe me,” Shamrock replied. “Me ’n him’s old friends.”
“Thomas! I know you have lived a most checkered life, but I can’t believe that you actually have been friends with someone like Lucien Bodine.”
“Yeah? Well, knowin’ ’im comes in handy now, don’t it?” Shamrock replied with a self-satisfied laugh.
* * *
For the last three days, Lucien Bodine had spent much of his time in the saloons of Chugwater.He talked little and listened much, trying to learn who killed his brother. He had never been here before, so he wasn’t concerned that someone might recognize him.
At the moment he was in the Long Horn, playing a game of solitaire, just listening to the buzz of conversation. He was looking for a black queen, and he dealt the three cards with no luck. He was studying the card layout when someone approached his table. Cautiously, he looked up.
“Hello, Bodine.”
“Shamrock,” Bodine said, surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here. My brother and I own a ranch just outside of town.” Houser had never offered a share of his ranch, but Shamrock was sure that was going to happen, especially if he was able to get rid of MacCallister.
Bodine’s only response was a nod, then he dealt out three more cards.
“Do you know who killed your brother?” Shamrock asked.
Bodine looked up again. “No. Do you?”
Shamrock smiled. “Yeah, I know.”
* * *
Meagan was making a new dress for Barbara Woodward, and as Mary Ellen Summers was about the same size as Barbara, Meagan had her put it on so she could take up the hem.
“Oh, Miss Parker, this may be the most beautiful dress I have ever seen,” Mary Ellen said.
“Turn to your left just a bit,” Meagan said, though her voice was somewhat muffled because she had a mouthful of pins.
The bell on the front door dinged as someone came in.
Meagan took the pins out of her mouth and laid them on the table. “I had better go see who that is.”
Just as she stood up, two men came into the back of the shop. She recognized one of them as Captain Harris. She had never seen the other one before.
“Oh, Captain Harris, I don’t allow any of my customers back here,” Meagan said, being careful not to allow her agitation to show. She smiled. “Besides, all the displays are out front. What can I do for you?”
“I am told that you are a friend of Duff MacCallister.”
“Yes.”
“I want you to ride out to MacCallister’s ranch and see to it that he comes to town.”
“Why should I go get Mr. MacCallister? I’m sure he is too busy to come to town right now.”
“This is Lucien Bodine,” Shamrock said.
“Oh?” Meagan replied anxiously. She recognized the name.
“You may recall that it was MacCallister who killed Mr. Bodine’s brother.”
Meagan didn’t answer.
Shamrock pulled his pistol and pointed it at Mary Ellen, who had been watching the conversation with an expression that was halfway between fear
