“What the hell has happened to them?” Lematte asked idly under his breath. “Where’s Jewel?” “I don’t know,” said Nolly, standing beside him, “but I’ve got a feeling the news ain’t good.” Poole’s horse limped along on its bruised hoof. Both riders wore sweat-streaked layers of trail dust on their faces and swayed wearily in their saddles. When the gathered gunmen made room for them to stop their horses at the hitch rail, Joe Poole’s horse faltered and almost fell as Poole stepped down to the ground. Seeing the sour look on Lematte’s face, Poole shook his lowered head, saying, “Something terrible happened, Sheriff. You ain’t going to believe it.” “I’m certainly going to try,” Sheriff Lematte said sarcastically. “What’s happened to Jewel Higgs?” He looked back along the dirt street as if Higgs might appear. Stepping down beside Joe Poole, Eddie Grafe said, “That damned gunman killed him, that’s what happened to him.” He looked around at the others, checking their expressions, trying to gauge whether or not anyone would believe his story.
