The Deputy - Edge Series 2 by George G. Gilman Page A

they are like the close brothers are they not. Or perhaps like a man and his – ‘
    ‘Shut your rotten mouth!’ Straker snarled. ‘Or you won’t live long enough for them to hang you for what you did to Frank Crowell’s daughter!’
    Martinez laughed harshly and challenged: ‘You would not dare to harm a single hair of my head, hijo de puta! Both of us know that is true!’
    Straker half rose from the chair and dropped a hand to drape the butt of his holstered Colt.
    Edge took a step away from the wall and shook his head when the deputy looked at him then warned: ‘You want to be no better than he is, feller?’
    Straker remained tense with anguish for a few moments, then sank slowly back down into the chair. A stream of hot breath rasped noisily out through his gritted teeth and he nodded, as he allowed:
    ‘You’re right, mister. I got to stop letting the murdering bastard get to me, damnit!’
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    ‘But that will spoil my fun, hijo de puta! And I do not have so much of that while I am locked in this stinking cell.’
    Edge spoke before Straker could snarl another futile angry retort. ‘I can recall from being in jail myself a time or two what it is a prisoner most looks forward to – outside of being turned loose. And it’s almost supper time, I guess?’
    ‘That’s at eight thirty or thereabouts,’ Straker said as a taut smile spread over his youthful, regular featured face. ‘And you’re right, mister. Martinez really enjoys my wife’s cooking. It won’t be any fun for him at all to miss out on Liz’s supper tonight.’
    Martinez snarled a Spanish obscenity and challenged: ‘You would not dare to deprive me of food!’
    Straker countered in a softly embittered tone: ‘Try me, you murdering bastard! You just keep flapping your jaw about why me and George North get along so well and the stray dogs on the street will get your grub. Tonight and for as long as I decide to do it - and I’ll feed it to them right outside that cell window!’
    There was another, less strident Spanish curse. Then some harshly inarticulate sounds as the angrily powerless prisoner tossed and turned in search of a comfortable position on his cot.
    Straker grinned tightly and nodded his satisfaction with the ensuing silence from beyond the barred door then made a circle of his right forefinger and thumb to signal his appreciation of Edge’s idea.
    When it was time for him to leave, Edge took from the end of a four weapon rifle rack the Winchester he had been loaned by the Railton City marshal’s office. And Straker followed him out to where his ready saddled gelding was hitched to the rail. Where he ended a lengthy silence during which he had become increasingly uneasy: obviously with something on his mind he was reluctant to voice until he blurted:
    ‘Edge?’
    ‘Yeah, feller?’ Edge slid the Winchester into the boot.
    Straker carefully eased the door closed and lowered his voice as he glanced toward the corner beyond which was the barred window of the jailhouse: ‘Just in case George didn’t tell you and you’re wondering . . ?’
    ‘About what?’ Edge turned and stooped to check the tautness of the saddle cinch. It was clear the young deputy was embarrassed to confide what was bothering him to the man he had recently shown enmity toward. Then he explained: ‘Him and me have always got along pretty well. Better than ever after he married my mother a couple of years after pa died. Even though she was real sick and he knew she was dying and wanted 57
    to make her last days as comfortable as he could. So it’s only natural him and me should . .
    . ‘
    ‘I wasn’t wondering,’ Edge said as he swung astride his horse and Straker unhitched the reins from the rail, handed them up to him. ‘But I guess it explains why he worries about you so much, feller.’
    ‘With everything else he’s got on his mind, he didn’t ought to think he needs to protect me, damnit!’ Straker growled forcefully.
    Edge showed a brief