The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,61
and Boston did these days.
“That is the most ridiculous speculation I ever heard,” Boston sputtered, giving Hobbs another glimpse of her fiery spirit. “Cahill didn’t shoot that poor man to keep him silent about a fire, because it was likely set by a lightning bolt.” She glanced briefly at Quin. “As for the anonymous note that foul play might have been involved in Ruby’s and Earl’s deaths, Cahill had no reason to kill the messenger. He wanted information.”
Quin had to hand it to Boston. She could go toe to toe with the marshal, who had obviously heard all sorts of wild conjectures from the locals.
He was grateful for her assistance because his head hurt like hell and it was difficult to keep up with the rapid-fire conversation when he couldn’t think straight. She distracted Hobbs by coming on like an attack dog, taking the focus off Quin while he was dazed. No one ever protected him like that. Except Boston.
Hobbs smirked and focused directly on Boston. “If you weren’t there you can’t know what was said and what happened. It is possible the supposed informant had nothing to offer and Cahill was furious enough to shoot him for his deception. In fact, considering the scandalous gossip circulating about Leanna during the party, I expect Cahill was in the worst of all possible moods by the time he rode off last night.”
Quin gnashed his teeth. There were so many rumors buzzing about his family that they had become tangled and cast suspicion and unfavorable light on all of them.
“You weren’t there, either,” Boston retaliated, lifting her chin defiantly. “You can’t speculate on what happened, can you? You have Quin’s testimony and since he has no prior record of criminal activity you have no reason to doubt him.”
Hobbs muttered something under his breath, then shot Quin a hard glance. He walked over to the double holsters draped over the back of the chair. He removed both pistols and sniffed the barrels before checking the chambers.
His dark eyes settled accusingly on Quin. “Do you plan to deny this pistol has been fired recently?”
“Not by me it wasn’t,” Quin maintained.
“Then by whom?” Hobbs demanded gruffly. “Cahill, I know you claim to be injured but it is my duty to take you to jail for suspicion of murder.”
“Because of an anonymous tip?” Boston spewed in outrage.
Hobbs held up the six-shooter. “This is a possible murder weapon found in Cahill’s possession, ma’am. I can’t disregard the possibility of Cahill’s involvement in the death just because he runs the largest spread in the area. If he is innocent, my investigation will clear him.”
He spun on his heels, then halted at the door. “I’ll wait for you downstairs, Cahill. I expect you are as anxious to follow proper protocol as I am. Otherwise, the locals will speculate that you bribed me to dismiss any charges of wrongdoing. Time will tell if you are innocent.”
“Of course he’s innocent,” Boston burst out angrily. “A stint in jail will only invite more offensive rumors about this absurd curse the spiteful locals delight in nurturing.”
Hobbs waved the pistol in her fuming face and said, “Best not to argue with a smoking gun, ma’am. You might want to consider the possibility that Cahill is trying to use you to corroborate his story so he can go free.”
When Hobbs walked out, Boston lurched toward Quin. “This is outrageous! I am going to tell Hobbs that I was on hand and that I heard—”
“No,” he interrupted sharply, then winced when his raised voice sent a stab of pain rippling through his tender skull. “Stay out of this, Boston. We will sort it out without involving you. After I convince Hobbs to see reason, we’ll investigate discreetly to disprove these infuriating rumors that put a negative slant on everything we say or do.”
She blew out an agitated breath, then dashed over to assist Quin when he tried to sit up on the edge of the bed. “I’m going to consult a lawyer. There is a reputable one in town, isn’t there? If not, I’ll send Butler to Wolf Grove to fetch one,” she insisted. “You are not going to spend unnecessary time in jail and invite another avalanche of damaging gossip!”
“I’ll be fine,” he assured her—and negated his claim by wobbling when he stood.
“You are nowhere near fine, Cahill,” she grumbled as she handed him a clean shirt. “Now sit down so I can help you with your boots.”
Dutifully, he sat down. Quin was not looking