“But, Marshal, I just came from there,” said Johnson, pausing. “And they’re plumb gone.”
“What do mean, gone?” snapped Rimshaw.
“I mean they ain’t there. They’re not at the Rio Grande. No one’s at the Rio Grande.”
Williams craned his neck on the ground to observe Rimshaw’s reaction, and what he saw sent a chill up his spine, for it all but confirmed what he’d begun to suspect. For as Rimshaw stared at the man coldly, his eyes black as coals and his face pale as the dead, his tongue slipped between his lips like a snake’s and was just as quickly sucked back in.
And Williams knew exactly what and who had killed Smithson even as the townsfolk’s boots pounded past him on all sides and he tried to get up but could only grip his stomach in both hands.
––––––––
To say Ank was cornered would
