“What’s the hell’s been goin’ on now?” wailed Whispering.
“Get some cold water!” snapped Len.
Len bathed her face with cold water, which revived her in a few moments. Her mind was clear again, and she waited for the sheriff to say or do something, but he walked from the room with Len. Out on the porch he said:
“She ain’t in no shape to talk, Len. Personally, I don’t think Sailor had anythin’ to do with it, but Breezy said that Sailor was along about that time, and I jist wanted to kinda find out if she knew what time he got home.”
“I told yuh she didn’t, Ben. Sailor never went up to the house after he got back. It was only a little while before Stevens and Breezy came bustin’ out, lookin’ for Hashknife. Anyway, Sailor wouldn’t bushwhack anybody, and yuh say that Hartley was bushwhacked.”
“Hartley never said anythin’—it was Breezy. Sleepy told him. I saw Hartley this mornin’, and he shore had a close call. It’s got me all balled up. If you can tell me why anybody would try to shoot his head off with a shotgun I’ll put in with yuh. Why, the man is a stranger around here.”
“Yeah, that’s true, Ben. Kinda funny. First off they kill Prentice; then they try to kill Amos Baggs. Now they ambush Hartley. Who will be next? What did Hartley say?”
“Grinned like a danged fool. I asked him if he wasn’t scared, and he said he shore was—scared to death.”
Len smiled and rubbed his chin.
“Yuh say they threw him off the bridge?”