Calder Pride Read Online Free Page A

funeral about six years back. If he had come around, there’s enough people who still remember him that the news would have spread faster than a grass fire.” Potter paused and looked up at the man, suddenly tracking his thinking and taking it a step farther. “Course, Lath always did hate the hard life his ma had. I remember the time Lew Michels caught him slipping a bottle of perfume in his pocket. Lath said it was a present for his ma. Lew made him sweep floors to pay for it. About a week later his storefront window got broke. It always seemed an unlikely coincidence to me. But you’re right if you’re thinking that. With his ma gettin’ on in years, Lath might keep in touch with her.”
    The man smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, a mixture of amusement and respect in their gray depths. “Not much gets by you, does it?”
    “Looking, listening, and thinking has been a habit too long,” Potter declared, liking this stranger more and more. “Don’t know how much information you’ll get out of them. The Andersons have always been a closemouthed clan. None of them thinks much of the government, or any other kind of authority. It’s an attitude you see a lot in folks as poor and proud as they are. It’s a combination that can make a body bitter and resentful.”
    “It can do that.” The gasoline pump clicked off. The Treasury agent walked back to the rental car, topped off the tank, and put the nozzle back, then went inside to pay. Within minutes he was back. Again, he paused, his glance running to Potter. “Which way to the sheriff’s office?”
    “Turn right just past Sally’s Place, then straight ahead two blocks. You can’t miss it,” Potter told him.
    The stranger glanced in that direction. “What can you tell me about the current sheriff?”
    Potter’s expression turned sour, revealing a contempt toward his successor. “Sheriff Blackmore likes the badge and the authority it gives him, and he ain’t shy about telling people, either. Too bad his brain isn’t as big as his mouth.”
    The information didn’t require a direct response, and the agent offered none, merely nodding. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s been a pleasure talking to you.”
    “Hell, the pleasure was all mine,” Potter replied and meant it. It was the first time he’d felt useful in years. With sharp regret, he watched the man walk to his car. On impulse he called out, “Say, if you ever get tired of the government rat race and all the political posturing, you might give some thought to moving here. This country could use a man like you.”
    “I’ll keep it in mind.” The stranger sketched a wave, then opened the driver’s door and ducked inside the car.
    Within seconds the car pulled away from the pump island and onto the highway. Potter watched it make the turn past Sally’s and head toward the sheriffs office. From around the corner came the crunch of footsteps, signaling the return of Fedderson and the Calders.
    When they walked into view, Potter studied the long shadows cast by Chase Calder and his son. He thought of the stranger and knew he wouldn’t be awed by the Calders. And he wasn’t the kind to crawl into a man’s pocket just because there was money in it, like Blackmore. Yup, Potter nodded to himself, this country definitely needed a man like him. Too bad he wouldn’t be hanging around.
     
    Logan Echohawk pulled up in front of the squat, brick building and parked the rental car at the curb. His glance was drawn again by the vast and raw plains that stretched away from the town. Stepping from the car, he felt the call of it. He had never been a man who cared much for desks and cities. But in this day and age it was the way of things. Yet always, somewhere deep within him, there ran a touch of the primitive and untamed. Maybe it came from the fraction of Sioux blood in his veins.
    He breathed in the smell of wildness that came off the tall grass prairie. In some ways, he could still be called a