Snow Ghost by Al Lacy

Author:Al Lacy [Lacy, Al]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-78054-6
Publisher: The Doubleday Religious Publishing Group
Published: 2011-05-04T04:00:00+00:00

The next day, Stranger walked about town alone, simply observing people. “Lord,” he said under his breath, “You know who the killer is. Help me nail him soon. Right now I feel I need to talk to Payton Sturgis. Would You make a way that I can get him alone?”

He could see the funeral parlor and carpentry shop just ahead. Suddenly the lanky figure of Ivan Charles emerged from the front door of the shop and moved toward him. As they drew abreast, Charles stopped. “Hello, Mr. Stranger. I haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting you personally. I’m—”

“Mr. Charles,” Stranger said with a grin, offering his hand.

“Oh, sure … you know who I am because of the funeral. Let me say that I’m glad you’re here. I appreciate your willingness to come and help us.”

“Glad to do it. It grinds me when some vile man preys on innocent victims. I really want to get my hands on him.”

“Well, I hope you catch him soon,” Charles said, moving on. “I’ve got to take care of some business at the bank. Nice meeting you.”

“Same here,” Stranger said, heading toward the same door from which Charles had emerged.

Inside the carpentry shop, Stranger was met with the sweet smell of freshly cut wood. Payton Sturgis was at the workbench, putting the finishing touches on a rocking chair. At first glance Stranger thought he saw animosity in Payton’s eyes, but if so, the man covered it quickly and said, “Howdy, Mr. Stranger. Some-thin’ I can do for you?”

“Not really. I’ve just always loved wood smells. I was passing by, so I thought I’d stop in for a minute and take a whiff.”

Payton chuckled and turned back to his work. “Well, whiff away. There’s plenty for everybody.”

John looked around for a few minutes, then said, “You do nice work. Build that chair by yourself?”

“Yep.”

“You build furniture before you came to Butte City?”

“Nope. Ivan taught me.”

“I see.” It seemed to Stranger that the young man was churning with emotion as he gave short, quick answers. There was nothing to give Stranger any reason to suspect him of being the killer, but he would bear watching.

“Well, Payton,” Stranger said in an amiable tone, “nice talking to you.” With that, he turned and headed toward the door. Just then the door opened, and a short, heavyset, middle-aged man stepped inside.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Stranger,” he said with a broad smile. “I’m Alan Dickey. I work at the Culpepper Zinc Mine.”

“Glad to meet you,” Stranger said, shaking his hand.

“I want to commend you for what you’re doing to try to catch the killer, Mr. Stranger. God bless you for it.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m honored that your sheriff has enough confidence in me to ask for my help.”

“I have no doubt you’ll catch him, Mr. Stranger. Many’s the story I’ve heard about your prowess for catching killers.”

Payton stayed busy with the rocking chair at the workbench. Stranger said loud enough for him to hear, “I want him real bad, Mr. Dickey. It’s going to be a pleasure to bring him down.

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