The boy darted another look at Tremaine. "They said they figured the spies was out north of town. Well, Bram's a foreigner, and he's out that way, ain't he?"
"Anything else?"
The boy looked at his feet.
"What did you shoot at, Hull?" Tremaine said. The boy looked at him sullenly.
"You know anything about the blood on the kitchen floor?"
"I don't know what you're talkin about," Hull said. "We was out squirrel-huntin."
"Hull, is Mr. Bram dead?"
"What you mean?" Hull blurted. "He was—"
"He was what?"