Nickolas stepped inside. The old marshal shut the door behind him and slid the bolt into place. The shotgun never left his hands. The cabin smelled of woodsmoke, gun oil, and something bitter simmering in a black iron pot over the fire. Elias Boone nodded toward a chair. “Sit.” Nickolas remained standing. “You always greet visitors with a shotgun?” “Only the ones who bring trouble.” The marshal said. “I didn’t bring trouble.” Elias gave him a dry look. “Son, trouble followed you up my trail.” Nickolas glanced at the shotgun. “I came because I heard you might know something about Black Rose.” The old marshal's expression changed. He slowly lowered the shotgun. “Who told you that?” “No one.” Nickolas pulled the black card from his pocket and placed it on the table. Elias stared at it. The color slowly drained from his face. “Where did you get that?” “My truck.” Elias looked up. “Someone left it there?” Nickolas nodded. The old marshal picked up the card without touching
続きを読む
