What the Dead Men Say Read Online Free Page B

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        Halfway there, he realized he didn’t have his shirt on. He was sure he shouldn’t open the door half naked.
        Feeling foolish and vulnerable, he dashed to the chair on the back of which was his shirt. He snapped it up and put it on and buttoned it. Then he went back to the door.
        James had seen few men this tall. Even without a hat, the top of the man’s head touched the top of the door frame. In addition to that, he was fleshy in a middle-aged sort of way, somewhat jowly and with a loose belly pinched tight by a huge silver buckle on which the initials DD had been sculpted. He wore a western-style white shirt, a brown leather vest, dark brown trousers, and Texastoed black boots. He looked a little sweaty from the heat and a little sour around his large, wry mouth. James couldn’t read his eyes at all.
        His grin was somewhat surprising. “I take it you’re not Septemus, son.”
        “No, sir,” James said, then immediately recalled what his uncle had said about being too deferential. “I’m sure not.” He tried to make the last sound hard-bitten, but his voice had soared too high for that. He’d just spotted the six-pointed star that the man wore tucked half under his vest.
        “You’d be-”
        “His nephew.”
        “I see.” The man put out a huge hand. James slid his own into the other man’s grasp. When they shook, James felt like a pump handle that somebody was jostling mercilessly. When he returned his hand to his side. James tried not to feel the pain the big man’s hand had inflicted on him. “I’m Dodds.”
        “Dodds?”
        “The sheriff.”
        “And you want to see my uncle Septemus?”
        “If I could.”
        “He’s not here.”
        The grin again. “I kinda figured that out for myself, son, I mean, I can see the whole room from here and I can see that it’s empty except for you.”
        James flushed, knowing he’d been gently but absolutely shown his place.
        “Any idea where I could find him?”
        “Huh-uh.”
        “Any idea when he’ll be back?”
        “He said a couple of hours.”
        “How long ago was that?”
        “’Bout an hour, I guess.”
        “Will you remember to tell him that Sheriff Dodds is lookin’ for him?”
        “Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing I’d forget to mention.” This time the grin was accompanied by a whiskey laugh. “Say, you were bound and determined to pay me back for that crack I made, weren’t you?”
        James felt himself flush again. That’s just what he’d been doing. Trying to show Dodds that he was a lot smarter than the lawman might think. “Guess so.”
        Dodds lifted the white Stetson he’d been keeping in his hand and cuffed James on the shoulder. “Damn straight, son. I’ve got a smart mouth on me and every once in a while somebody needs to put me in my place.” He grinned again. “Damn straight.”
        Then he nodded and was gone.
        James closed the door. He thought about lying down but he was too stirred up now. What would a sheriff want with Uncle Septemus?
        He went over to the window and the billowing sheer curtain and stuck his head out. It was like leaning into an oven. Even though the water wagon had been over the dusty main street once today, dust devils rose in the still, chalky air. A crow sitting on the gable to James’s right looked over at the boy with sleepy curiosity. The bird looked too tired to move.
        There was no sign of Uncle Septemus.
        James looked in every direction this particular window afforded. Then he looked again and saw nothing.
        What the hell would a lawman want with his uncle?
        He took his shirt off and went back and lay on the bed. There was no possibility of a nap now. He was too churned up.
        Nor was he any longer angry with his uncle about the man implying he was a