anybody? See him with anybody at all?â
âNope. Sure didnât. I saw him there at the saloon, and walking across the street several times, or up and down the street.â
âEver see him ridinâ?â
âNo, come to think of it, I didnât. It was yesterday I saw him around. Iâm out front a good deal, shifting trunks around, or loading mail sacks on the stage, or just takinâ the air. Thatâs how I seen him.â
Borden Chantry walked out front and leaned against the awning post. Some drunk might have potshotted an innocent stranger, although that was unlikely. But when somebody went to the trouble to murder a man and hide itâ¦Well, there had to be a reason.
He took off his hat and wiped the sweatband. To think that even now the murderer might be watching him, wondering what he was thinking, gave him an eerie feeling. He was uneasy, not liking not knowing who his enemy might be. Always before, he had known. Indians, rustlers, horse thievesâ¦They were tangible, and he knew how to cope with them. A murderer, who might be watching his every move, ready to try killing him if he got too closeâ¦well, that was something different.
He strolled about town, putting the question here and there. Several people remembered the man, nobody remembered anything in particular about him.
If he rode a horse he left it somewhere. Borden walked into the shadowed livery stable, a wide door at each end. It smelled of fresh hay, fresh manure, and harness leather. He walked down the wide aisle between the stalls, looking at the horses.
Langâs big black was there. It rolled its eyes at him as he passed. And there were Hyattâs matched bays which he drove to a buckboard. Hyatt rode astride from time to time, but preferred the buckboard.
There were no strange horses in the barn.
As he returned to the front entrance, Ab came from his tack room which was also his sleeping quarters. âSomethinâ fur ya, Marshal?â
âCheckinâ the horses. Did a tall man in a fringed buckskin coat come in here?â
âNopeâ¦No strangers this week âceptinâ that drummer who was in here from Kansas City. He was sellinâ hair oil anâ such. Some ladiesâ fixinâs. Nope, nobody.â
In a small town, people noticed strangers. In a small western town, they noticed horses. Yet few people seemed to have seen this man, and nobody had seen him with a horse. At least nobody Chantry had found.
It was likely the man had come in before daylight or after duskâ¦maybe at suppertime when nobody much was on the street. But if he came in at dusk he had to stay somewhere. Borden crossed the street to the hotel.
The lobby was small with a desk at one side, an old cracked leather settee, two huge leather chairs, and another chair made entirely, except for the seat, of longhorn horns. On the walls there were several heads of antelope, deer, and buffalo, including at the back of the desk a longhorn steer head with nine-foot horns.
Elsie Carter was behind the desk, as she was most of the time.
âYes, he was in. Asked me if I had a room for the night, and I told him I had. He said heâd be back for it.â
âDid he give you his name?â
âNo, he didnât. No name. I will say he was a right handsome man, however. Right handsomeâ¦Had a familiar look, too.â
âFamiliar? Like somebody around here?â
âNoâ¦no, but like somebody Iâve seen. Been bothering me ever since he was in. He was like, yet not like. I dunno.â
âElsie, youâve been around towns like this since you was a kid, and in the hotel business most of the time. Youâve got a knowing way about folks. What would you say about him? Anything at all. I just got nothing to tie to.â
She touched a hand to her hair, then leaned a fat elbow on the counter. âMarshal, I can tell you one thing. That man
was
somebody. He had the manner, the