A dead man can’t dodge a noose!
HARDEN WOULDN’T RUN!
“Better not look in there, Cleve,” he said, his face, full of concern. “Hey, Bobby! Get your pard away from here.”
“Out of my way, Mr. Hogan!” Harden said in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own.
“For heaven’s sake, boy . . .” the freight agent began, but he got no further as Harden seized him by the shoulders and pushed him away from the open door.
The Concord was filled with dust but he saw the shrouded figure lying on the seat.
There was blood everywhere in the compartment — on the seat, the floor, along the door. Like a man in a nightmare, Harden reached out with a shaking hand, took the edge of the blanket in his fingers and groaned like a man in pain even before he jerked it back.
His world did a crazy spin and he had to grab the doorframe to stop himself from falling as he stared down into his father’s dead face . . .