The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,289

dark. He knew that Letty had ridden away from her home, supposedly after her husband’s killer. It was his opinion that she would be the next victim.

The next morning, he’d deputized a couple of down-on-their-luck prospectors and tried to pick up the trail from the old man’s cabin. They followed it until they rode into a valley and came upon a large herd of elk. Upon their arrival, the herd bolted. Whatever tracks had been left by horses and men were gone, trampled beneath the hooves of the massive herd. After trying for some time to pick up the trail, they were forced to give up and rode back to Denver City.

The last thing Hamm ever expected to see was this woman tying up her horse in front of his office. He walked out with bravado, eyed the dog sniffing his boots, and then looked up at Robert Lee, who was quietly sitting on his horse. The fact that the man hadn’t dismounted seemed strange, but Hamm let the thought slide, and shifted his focus to Letty.

Her clothes were stained with blood and dirt, and the smell of wood smoke was strong about her. He thought she stumbled as she reached toward the saddle to untie an old flour sack, but then he changed his mind when she grabbed it firmly and turned around. He tried to meet her gaze, but couldn’t get past the guilt of coming back to Denver City without her or her husband’s killer.

“Miz. Potter, I’m right sorry for your loss.”

Letty didn’t comment. Instead, she turned the sack upside down, dumping the contents at the sheriff’s feet.

The charred bones clattered as they fell onto the wood planks, while the skull took an odd roll, coming to stop at the toes of his boots.

“Godallmighty!” Hamm cried, and jumped back as if he’d been burned. “What in hell have you done?”

“Brought back my husband’s killer. I’m done with him. You can do what you will.”

She dropped the sack, whistled at her dog, and mounted her horse.

“Wait! Where do you think you’re going?” Hamm yelled.

Letty looked up the mountain where the roof of her house was barely visible. Her eyes filled with tears, then spilled over, running silently down her face.

“I reckon I’m going home, now,” she said.

The crowd was deadly silent. Hamm didn’t know what to think. The bones had their own truth to tell, but he didn’t have enough facts to let this all go.

He was reaching for his pistol when he heard a distinct and familiar click. Robert Lee was holding a gun aimed at his chest.

“Don’t even think it,” Robert Lee said softly. “Miz Letty… you head on home now. I’ll be along soon.”

Letty didn’t acknowledge that she’d heard him, but she did ride away.

Hamm was furious. This didn’t look good, him letting a woman like her ride in and dump bones at his feet without some explanation. Then, having her hired gunslinger pull a weapon on him in front of all these people set his teeth on edge.

“I don’t care if you’d got two guns trained on me. I need some answers,” he said, then pointed at the skull. “There’s a hole in this here skull.”

“That would be where Miz Potter shot her husband’s killer,” Robert Lee said.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd of people as they all moved closer for a better look.

“Well, then,” Hamm sputtered. “If she shot the man, then how did his body get burned?”

“That would be because she set him on fire.”

All the color in Hamm’s face went south. His mouth was moving, but he couldn’t get the air to form words.

“Who is he?” someone shouted.

Robert Lee fixed the sheriff with a hard, angry stare.

“Ask the sheriff, here,” Robert Lee said. “He’s the one who let him go free.”

Hamm reeled as if he’d been punched in the gut. He stared down at the pitiful pile of bones, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“What’s he talking about?” a woman cried.

Hamm sputtered, then took a deep breath and quickly shifted the blame.

“Don’t look at me,” he said loudly. “It weren’t me who said to let him go. It was that judge… Judge Joshua Dean. He wouldn’t even let me keep the man over for trial. He just walked in my office and ordered me to let the man go.”

Unaware of the history behind the story, the same woman called out again.

“Let who go?” she asked.

Hamm bit his lip.

Robert Lee pointed with the barrel of his gun.

“George Mellin, and