“Water would ruin mah outfit.”

/> Jesse stood next to Elvis and several others, watching the cloud of dust dissipate around the Sheriff. So many men had fired in such a panic that hundreds of rounds struck the ground around and above Rockman, sending puffs of dust into the air. Near the end of the shooting, they couldn’t even see him.

Jesse said, “We got him, got Mora’s killer.”

Someone asked, “What about the woman?”

Johnny said, “Do you see her? The Sheriff did the same thing he did yesterday. He saved the woman he loved. She’s gone. Let’s get back to town and have some drinks.” There were voices of approval.

Elvis said to Jesse, “Man, there ought to be a song about this.”

“You’re the music man. Write it.” Jesse walked away.

Elvis took one more look over the edge of the bluff, then followed the men.

***

Hunter made it to the tree line and stood up, looking back at the river. No one was in sight. She walked through the brush and came out by Wayne’s Ram Charger. Hunter steered clear of it, not wanting to see any more pictures, not sure if she could hold her emotions in check.

She did the five-mile walk into town in a daze, staying in the brush and ducking every time a vehicle approached. Hunter skirted Johnny Esser’s station and made her way through alleys until she reached her pickup in the lot near the taxis.

Thirst was closing her throat, and Hunter stopped at a Seven-Eleven and bought two quarts of water. She drank them before she covered ten miles. The drive to Marfa took forever. Hunter pulled into her driveway just after sundown and, too tired to bathe or eat, collapsed on the couch and fell asleep.

***

The story of Wayne Rockman’s death on the banks of the Rio Grande, of his ambush by bandits across the river, was the lead story on every network. Hunter flipped channels but couldn’t get away from it. The story was the same, only the faces of the reporters were different.

Early Tuesday morning, Border Patrol Agents discovered the bullet-riddled body of Marfa Sheriff Wayne Rockman, a living legend in West Texas. Evidence points to an ambush by assassins hidden on the Mexican side of the river, a mere thirty yards wide at this point. A small raft located near the body, is believed to be bait used to lure the Sheriff to the ambush site.

Texas Rangers, along with Agents of the FBI, recovered over three hundred bullets at the murder scene. The investigation is continuing, with cooperation promised from the Mexican authorities. We will have more to report as the investigation continues.

After the six o-clock news, Hunter called the Marfa Border Patrol Station and talked to Roy Dell Adams.

“Roy Dell, who found the Sheriff?”

“Raymond. He was down there helping out Presidio because they had something going south of town. Anyway, he was cutting sign upriver and found Wayne a little after ten.”

“Thanks Roy.”

“Hey Hunter,”

“Yeah?”

“You need anything, let me know, okay?”

“I will.” Hunter went into the kitchen and grabbed her keys off the counter. She drove to Raymond’s and saw him cooking on the grill. His Iowa football jersey already had barbecue and smudge stains on it. She saw the small laptop with an Iowa football game playing, and she recognized the game because Raymond always played it before every season, sometimes for weeks before every season. It was the game referred to by Iowa fans everywhere as The Kick.

“You want a beer?” Raymond asked. He paused the laptop.

“Sure,” Hunter said. He handed her a Miller High Life in the bottle. She was silent while he fussed with the coals and the meat on the grill.

He said, “You wanna eat with us?”

Hunter said, “So, you found Wayne this morning.”

“Yep. Shocked the hell out of me.”

“What time did you find him?”

Tags: Billy Kring Thriller
Source: readsnovelonline.net