Running me out of
town won’t save your neck!
Her smile was a strange, cold movement of her lips. Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly as she took in the sight of his bruises and bloodied wounds.
“Are you worried about getting out of here, Hollister?”
“Some. If I’d really killed Anson, I mightn’t mind so much, but I don’t aim to be lynched to cover up someone else’s murder.”
That smile still played on her lips, but there was a tension about her now, her whole frame seeming to go rigid that brought the drifter to his feet.
“What are you up to, ma’am?” Hollister demanded.
“You don’t have to worry anymore about getting out of here, Hollister!” Julie said abruptly, and she whipped a snub‑nosed derringer out of her reticule. “You’ll be getting out in a few minutes, but you will be on a slab!”
“Sheriff!” Hollister yelled as the woman brought the little gun up and pulled the trigger.