Without blinking, Fowler commenced the arduous process of removing his many layers. He didn’t move like an injured man, but when he stripped off his outer shirt and final layer, Joel was surprised by the scars that pocked his chest and back.
“I told you,” Fowler said, holding his arms out to the sides, “things used to be rough out here. These marks were taken for our town, and I’m as proud of them as any soldier is of the medals on his uniform.”
Joel’s neckband took that moment to dig into his throat. He didn’t long for those kinds of awards on himself, but he hoped he’d carry them as well.
“What’s this about?” Detective Cleveland asked. “Did the sheriff wing the outlaw?”
“We have another report of a crime,” Joel said. “Scott Murphy came in this morning to report that he’d been attacked that same night, in the same location. He claims to have shot his attacker.”
Fowler’s eyes narrowed. “Scott got attacked by the same man?”
“Sounds like it. Dropped him in the gully. But Scott has a .22, not a .38.”
“You’re wrong there, Deputy,” Fowler said. “He had his uncle’s .38 that night when he came to meet us. I saw it stuck in his belt. I wish I hadn’t, but . . .”
Officer Harrison clapped his hands together. “This Murphy fella confessed to shooting someone, and we have an injured sheriff? Seems like our job is done. That man wasn’t attacked. He was out hunting for bad guys and got jumpy.”
“He’s not a man, he’s a boy,” Fowler said. “And don’t forget, Miles Bullard, a known murderer, is still on the loose.”
Detective Cleveland angled his way between Joel and Fowler and found a corner of the desk to sit on. His pinstripe pants stretched tight over his knee as he swung his foot. “I’ve got another theory, Deputy Puckett.” He studied Fowler for a long moment.
“Spit it out,” Fowler growled.
“I think Scott Murphy and Mr. Fowler are in cahoots. You’ll notice that Mr. Fowler didn’t turn himself in until Murphy had time to come in with his story. He wants us to believe that it’s not Mr. Fowler who shot the sheriff, it’s another bandit . . . one who is now injured and on the run. But where is that man? He’s nowhere to be found.”
“Scott Murphy has no reason to confess to a shooting on my behalf,” Fowler said. “I turned him down when he wanted to join us.”
“And this is the way he can earn your favor,” said the detective. “Throw some doubt into what happened, muddy Taney’s testimony, take the fall if necessary. If he’s just a boy, the jury would probably go easy on him.”
Fowler fumed. Officer Harrison and Joel both got ready to intervene if necessary.
“I did not go after Sheriff Taney,” Fowler said. “I didn’t shoot him, and I know nothing whatsoever about what happened to Scott Murphy. I don’t hide behind children. I answer for myself.”
“Besides,” Joel said, “Fowler was with me.”
“There’s another scenario to explore,” Detective Cleveland said. Joel was really starting to hate his whiny voice. “Maybe Mr. Fowler here is innocent. Maybe Scott Murphy was acting on his own. He’s the one who’s been going after Doctor Hopkins. He disguised himself as a Bald Knobber in case he was spotted. Sheriff Taney caught him, and he had to shoot him to get free. The sheriff was shot by a Bald Knobber and Scott comes in claiming to have shot the bad guy.”
Joel’s head spun. “Scott Murphy’s and Doctor Hopkins’s families aren’t feuding. They’re sharing a roof right now. Besides, Scott’s the one who raised the alarm when Hopkins’s house was burning.”
“The first one to ring the fire bell could be the one who started the fire,” Detective Cleveland said. “The only mistake we’ve made so far is letting you interview Scott Murphy alone. Let’s bring him in.”
“What are you bringing him in for? I have his statement right here.”
Detective Cleveland ran a finger over his brow as he dismissed the account on the desk. “We need transportation. Where can we find mounts?”
“See Mayor Walters.” Fowler buttoned up his shirt. “He has a nice horse he’ll let you borrow if the money talks.”
The pony? Perfect. Joel only hoped it was in a biting mood.
“I don’t understand why we need to bring the boy in,” Joel said. “He’s not going to run. His family is here.” But even as he said the words, a bubble in the pit of his stomach rumbled. What kind of a man left everything behind? Him.
Ignoring him, Detective Cleveland turned to Fowler. “Where’s the man with the horses?”
“At the dry goods store just across the street. Tell him you want the lawman special, and he’ll hook you up.”
With a long last look at Joel, the two men left, leaning together to share their thoughts as they took out to the general store.
Fowler shook his massive head like it was a barrel of molasses. “We should’ve kept the Murphy boy with us instead of sending him home. Sounds like them fellows are intent on wrapping this up quick.”
“The truth is the truth. Even they can’t convict an innocent man.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. They sure let a lot of guilty walk free.”
“We have to trust in the process,” Joel said.
“Looks like it’s going to be a busy night,” Fowler said.