If he had to die,
at least it would be quick!
MY NAME ON A BULLET
Gilbert Daytan’s hard eyes held on to hers for a moment, then he nodded.
“Thanks, Lorna,” he said quietly.
“Do you know who killed him?” Lorna asked.
“One of my own hired hands!” Daytan snapped, his voice harsh once more. “Jed Clanton followin’ a gunfight in the saloon.”
“A gunfight!” Lorna’s eyes widened. “But if it was a gunfight, it wasn’t murder, Mr. Daytan.”
“I aim to finish the gunfight!” Daytan snapped again. “We’re makin’ our camp in your valley. I’ll pay you for your grass, Henshaw, and you and your mother, Lorna, for any food you can provide. You’ve seen no sign of any strangers?”
“No one. How long do you expect to be here?”
“The killer’s wounded and he’s without a horse. We should catch him within the next twenty-four hours. But we’re not leavin’ here till we get him. I’ve got his name on a bullet.” A cold vindictiveness crept into Gilbert Daytan’s voice now. “He’s the sort that will shoot it out, but I don’t want my bullet killin’ him outright. I want to see Lew’s killer hanged!”