Chapter 12 Five Hundred Hours of Doctor Winston
The case at Wickliffe Station took place early in Ben Snow's wandering career, when his reputation as a sharpshooter was so widespread that he was often mistaken for another boyish gunslinger, Billy the Kid. Billy had been dead for two years when Ben arrived at Wickliffe Station one afternoon in November 1882, but in those days news traveled slowly in the West.After all, in 1876, the Custer massacre occurred on the Little Bighorn River, and it took more than a week for such a big news to reach Washington, let alone the news that Billy the Kid was killed.
No wonder, then, that twenty-four-year-old Ben Snow was mistaken for Billy at the time—although that doesn't matter in a place like Wickliffe Station, where a family of five hundred lives almost every day. A life completely cut off from the outside world.Although there is a train passing by at noon every day, and it will only stop when the flag is signaled, it still has little connection with the civilized cities in the east.
It's a laid-back western town just to Ben's liking, where his growing fame as a shooter doesn't matter, and maybe he can enjoy a week of peace before hitting the road again.
There were few houses or shops around the tracks, and when Ben rode into town on his horse, Oatmeal, there were some children playing in the streets. "How do I get to the hotel?" he asked one of the boys with sandy hair.The boy stared at his pistol and asked, "Sir, are you the shooter?"
"No, just a traveler."
"Have you ever seen an Indian?"
"Never seen one."
"You can stay at Mrs. Jester's," offered an older boy, "that white house at the end of the street."
"thanks."
As he rode on, Ben noted the location of the clubhouse and the blacksmith's shop, the only facilities he might need during his stay at Wickliffe Station.Mrs Jester's house looked clean and tidy, with a small fenced yard in front of it.A small sign hung in one of the windows: The room is available for daily or weekly rent.He tied the oats to a hitching post in front of the house, and went into the house.
Mrs. Jester was a slender, smiling, middle-aged woman. "Wickcliffe Station doesn't get very many outsiders," she said to Ben. "How long are you going to stay?"
"A week or two. I'm driving the cattle from Texas, and I need a break now."
"If you're looking for a little thrill here, there isn't."
"No irritation," he assured her, "just peace."
"Well, you can sleep in the upstairs room, here's the key. Five dollars a week, all meals included."
"The price is quite fair." He picked up the saddle bag and was about to go upstairs.
"Pay the money first. I've had to be a businessman since my husband passed away."
"Okay." Ben handed her some silver coins and smiled, finding her an attractive woman in her forties.
"Dr. Winston is in town tonight, so we'll have an early dinner."
Ben stopped at the foot of the stairs, "Doctor Winston?"
"He comes here every month to do the drug road show—do a little magic tricks and sell his drugs and stuff. Now he has a girl named Katie with him to travel everywhere with him."
"I'd like to see it," said Ben, thinking that this was probably the only local entertainment he could look forward to.
The upstairs room is warm and comfortable, richly decorated, with a floral rug on the bed.He hung his windbreaker in the closet, and then looked out of the window, the view was very good, below was the main street of the town, all the way to the railway at the end.A pleasant town, he thought.A good place to rest.
It was getting late, and the townspeople gathered around a carriage in the high street outside Mrs. Jester's Hotel.Ben stands on the edge of the crowd.There were cheers and greetings from the crowd when a slender, bearded, dark-eyed man emerged, much to Ben's surprise.
"Good evening, guys," he began, "Katy and I are always happy to come to Wickliffe Station. This month I have some miracles for you - one of which is that you will see I will sell you something more miraculous than any patent drug, and more precious than money. But first, allow me to call on my glamorous assistant, Katie!"
Katie came out from behind the carriage and stood beside him.She was a red-haired beauty in a shiny bodysuit that wowed the crowds on the dusty street.A man who was very close to her immediately reached out to her thigh, but she smiled and firmly blocked it with one hand.Meanwhile, Dr. Winston was still talking.Moving to and fro around the carriage, she lighted the torches with magical ease until the whole area was bathed in flames.The audience moves closer, as if the flames offer them protection in the dark.
For the next fifteen minutes Dr. Winston and Katie put on a little show, performing a succession of little tricks with cards and coins.Ben has seen better shows in big cities, but in this little-known town, it's not bad.When their performance was over, he guessed that Winston would be peddling his tonics and secret recipes next, but Dr. Winston's wares were a little unusual.
"This month, my good friends, I'm selling time - the most important commodity in the world! Here, where everyday life is so much the same, you may wonder why it's important or valuable. But let me Tell you, time is the best tonic. No tricks, I promise you. I'm going to sell you extra time, by the hour or by the day—time that doesn't belong on a calendar or a clock. If you're from I buy it here for a day or a week or a month, which is the time outside of your life. You can use it as you like, and when the time is over, it's as if nothing happened outside of Viccliff Station. You Extra time can be spent at will, while in the rest of the world time—and life—are frozen."
A burly man in the front row said loudly, "Come on, Doctor, you're kidding us! You think we're going to believe you?"
"It's not without evidence, Sheriff Spofford. I certainly don't want to be in jail for false advertising. So I've prepared some small evidence. I'll sell five hundred hours tonight, enough for Wickliffe Station One hour per resident. You can experience it for yourself. I will sell it for the lowest price, a dollar an hour, as proof."
There was a lot of discussion among the crowd, and Mrs. Jeste said: "If we buy it, when will it be cashed?"
"November eighteenth, at noon. That is, the day after tomorrow."
"It's Sunday!" said someone. "Anyway, nothing big ever happens on Sunday."
Dr. Winston smiled. "A big event will happen this Sunday. For those who buy extra time, there will be twenty-five hours in the day."
"What do we do with the extra hour on Sunday?" wondered Mrs. Jester.
"Go for a picnic," suggested the sheriff, "let's close up all the businesses in town and go have a picnic."
"It's too cold for a picnic," a voice broke in.
At this moment, a tall man in a top hat stepped forward.Ben hadn't noticed him before.He was dressed out of place in this small town, as if he had gotten off the train at the wrong station.Ben passed through the crowd, squeezed to Mrs. Jester, and asked, "Who is that?"
"Felix Poors, the town banker. There's so much money he doesn't know what to do with it."
Poles took center stage in the torchlit scene, raising his hand for the audience to silence, "It would be amazing if this man could actually do what he said. I, as a small town , would buy an hour on Sunday. And I'll pay for everyone at Wickliffe Station—five hundred dollars!"
A cheer broke out from the crowd, and Winston shook hands with the banker.Ben found that staying in this small town might be more interesting than he expected.
There was talk of Dr. Winston and his exotic wares in the club that night.Some thought he was downright crazy, but the bar owner, a muscular young man named Matt Audley, thought they'd know the truth for free anyway.
"If old Boers wants to waste five hundred dollars, I don't think we need to stop him," he said.
"Has Winston ever done a similar deal before?" Ben asked suspiciously.
"No, he was content to sell snake oil before."
"That little girl he travels with is lovely. Are they married?"
Matt Audley shrugged, "It's almost over. She showed up a few months ago and has been with him since. I guess he's been to all the small towns around here. Every town west of Dodge City town."
"What are you going to do with the extra hour on Sunday?"
"I want to open the bar and give everyone a free drink, but the pastor will definitely not agree."
Ben paid for the drink and strolled outside.The cool autumn wind blows from the distant mountains.The sky was clear and he could see a sky full of stars.On his way back to Mrs. Jester's Hotel he passed Dr. Winston's carriage.Voices came from inside, but the voice was so low that he couldn't hear a word.
In the early morning, he rode oatmeal around the city and stopped at a blacksmith's shop to repair horseshoes.It was just before noon when Ben came to the track, and he saw Katie, Dr. Winston's wife, standing there as if waiting for a train. "Where are you going?" he asked.
She smiled at him and tugged at the Mexican shawl around her shoulders. "No, just out for a walk."
"Will you have an extra hour tomorrow, too, or is it only for the townsfolk?"
Before answering, she looked him over, probably to weigh the irony in his question.In the end, she decided to ignore the question entirely and asked one of her own, "You're new here too, right? I don't remember seeing you before."
"I'm just a ranch boy, taking a break between drives. My name is Ben Snow."
"Interesting—you still carry a gun, like a gunslinger."
"Someone said that before."
They saw the train coming from afar.The driver saw them and started to slow down, but Katie shook her head and waved him on. "Punctual," she remarked, "at noon."
"Don't they even have a platform here?"
"Just a waiting shed. If you want to get on, wave the flag to the train and buy your ticket when you get on. They don't want a station master in such a small town."
"Have you ever been anywhere by train with Dr. Winston?"
"No, we'll only take the carriage. One day, but—one day he'll do something great."
"Maybe tomorrow."
She glanced at him, "Maybe."
That evening, Sheriff Spofford came to visit Ben at the hotel.Ben had just eaten dinner and was relaxing on the front porch before the night air cooled. "Mr. Ben Snow," the Sheriff greeted him, "isn't it?"
"it's me."
"It's nice to have you here for a few weeks. Is there anything special about it that draws you here?"
"It's just that it looks like a paradise here," Ben told him.
"That's what we're here for." Spofford tugged on the gun belt. "We're being extra careful because there's no telegraph line here yet. If we had a decent station, the railroad department would install one for me." , but we don’t. So not all the murders, bank robberies, etc., reach us. Unless the train stops at us and people get off, we don’t know anything about the outside world.”
"Sometimes it's best that way."
"Sometimes, of course. But I always think about the extra hour at noon tomorrow. Maybe some out-of-towner will take the opportunity to rob Mr. Bowles' bank."
Ben just smiled at him, "I didn't see any outsiders coming today."
The sheriff's hand lightly brushed the butt of his gun, "Well then, keep your eyes open, Mr. Snow. If you find anything suspicious, come and report it to me. Of course, I will keep my eyes open too." s eyes."
After breakfast on Sunday morning, Mrs. Jester asked, "Are you going to church?" She was wearing a bright red dress that was surprisingly expensive.
Ben hadn't thought about it, but he knew he should. "I think I'll go," he decided.
"Then take your guns down. No one goes to church with a gun."
He looked at her with a smile, "You remind me of my mother."
The pastor was a sullen-looking man of about fifty, with eyes as cold as pistol barrels.Mrs. Jester introduces Ben as Reverend Dixon.Ben surmised to himself that he had just come to this town, but he was more than happy to make a bold statement in his sermon.
"You fools—you are God's people, but you let yourselves be seduced by the serpent. What did he promise you? Immortality? Invulnerability? Wealth? No, nothing, just One extra hour in the day, as if he could stop the sun and the moon! And for that you will sell your souls. Beware—beware, people of God! Satan does not come among us with a grimace! No , today he came with a promise of a carriage!"
Neither Dr. Winston nor Katie came to church.After the sermon, they were nowhere to be seen on the street outside.It was almost noon at this time, and the townspeople were more interested in them than Pastor Dixon's words.
"How do we know?" one woman asked. "Does the clock stop?"
Felix Poors, the banker, was leaving the church when he replied: "The train, my dear lady. There are seven minutes until the midday train, which is never late except in bad weather."
So they waited.All are waiting.Even Reverend Dixon came out to wait with them.
"It's noon." Finally, bar owner Matt Audley said.
There was no shadow of a train.
"Your watch is fast," someone said.
But they waited another five minutes and still no train was coming.
Finally, people returned home one after another.Some said it felt as if the air had frozen.Ben Snow walked up to Reverend Dixon and asked, "What do you think? It's a miracle?"
"More like a devil's trick."
Ben was about to walk away when he noticed the sheriff standing in the shade of the smithy, watching his every move.
An hour later, the residents of Wickliffe Station gathered on both sides of the railway line.As an outsider, Ben hovered not far behind them.He glanced at the sunlit front of the blacksmith's shop, but by then Sheriff Spofford had disappeared.
"Here it comes!" cried Felix Poors as a wisp of smoke came into view.It was indeed the afternoon train, exactly an hour behind all the clocks at Wickliffe station.
The train slowed, the driver waved to them, and many shouted: "What time is it?"
"Twelve o'clock sharp!" he answered loudly. "We are not late."
"He did it," said Mrs. Jester, with a hint of awe in her voice. "He really did it. We had a whole extra hour and no one was making good use of it."
Ben gave a knowing smile and walked back along the dirt road.The clubs were open and business was brisk.People want to talk about what just happened, analyze it and explain it.But he had other things on his mind.When he got to Dr. Winston's carriage, he looked around to make sure that no one was paying attention, so he raised the rear curtain of the carriage and slipped in.As for what he was looking for, he only had a vague idea, but within five minutes, he had gained something.Hidden under the quilt was a week-old Dodge City newspaper with the headline: RAILWAYS TYRAPY!
He skimmed through the article, tucking the newspaper under his shirt.Then he slipped out of the carriage and walked towards the hotel.As he was approaching the hotel, he saw Dr. Winston coming towards him from the middle of the street.Winston must have seen him get out of the carriage.
Ben slowed down and kept walking.The scene reminded him of the countless gun battles he had seen on the streets of western towns, only he didn't have a gun, and he hoped Winston didn't either.When they were twenty meters apart, Winston said: "Sir, what are you doing in my carriage?"
"Looking through old newspapers," Ben replied, keeping his eye on the man's hand for any sudden movement.
Winston's face was flushed with anger, and he was about to explode when a gunshot broke the calm of the afternoon.Ben crouched in self-defense, and Winston grabbed his chest and fell.
The second shot didn't follow.The streets were deserted.Ben ran up to him and turned him over.He is dead.The bullet went through his heart.
"Don't move, Snow!" a voice yelled, "Move and you're dead!"
He looked up to see Sheriff Spofford running from the alley next to the blacksmith's shop.He aimed a six-shot gun at Ben's head.
"You see, I didn't kill him," Ben retorted, "I didn't have a gun with me!"
Pointing him at gunpoint along the way, Spofford took him to the sheriff's office next to the church, where the body was carried away.The only one who expressed grief for Winston's death was Katie, who ran out of the club and cried on the fallen body.Others also came to watch, but they didn't say a word. They stared at Ben as if they had already decided that he was the murderer.
"I know the shooter," the sheriff said to him. "You keep your little Dellinger in your sleeve or in your boot."
"Come on, search me."
"Don't worry, I will."
But the pistol was not found, and Spofford continued, "You may have left it somewhere, or you handed it to the girl when she ran out of the club."
"Sheriff, I heard the shot that killed him. I think it sounds like a carbine."
"Then I don't know. You were standing in the street with him, and it seemed to me that you must have shot him."
"Why? Because I'm a foreigner?"
The sheriff half-closed his eyes and squinted at him. "I have an old wanted bill for Billy the Kid. Looks a bit like you."
"No word on Wickliff Station. Billy the Kid is dead."
"That's what they say," Spofford thought for a minute, then changed his game. "What's with this newspaper I found in your shirt? Where did it come from?"
"Dodge City, the original. I just found it in Winston's carriage. You'll see what that extra hour is all about when you've seen it."
"It's about the railroad," said the sheriff, picking up the paper.
"Exactly. At noon today, New York time, the American Railroads established four new time zones, replacing the fifty regional time zones that previously covered the country. More time in some places, less time in others—from a few seconds to More than an hour. Whether or not people should let the railroads dictate their time is hotly debated, but it is clear that most places intend to adopt the new time zone. As you can see from the map printed above, Victoria An extra hour at Cliff Station."
Spofford squinted at Ben. "What does Winston want us to get out of this spell he's leading us to think is his? We'll soon find out the truth. It's strange that no one knows about it."
"Sheriff, the town is notoriously cut off from the outside world because there is no telegraph. But Winston wasn't playing luck. He had Katie stand by the track at noon yesterday in case anyone got off the train and brought the news. "
"Who is the murderer, do you know in your mind?"
"You know it's not me, so let me go."
Spofford thought for a while, "The bullet that killed Winston came out of his back, slightly lower than the wound where it entered. So, the bullet probably came from above, possibly from Biedrin." Gage or even a six-shot gun with more power. Guess I can take my chances and believe you're innocent. But if you're going to play tricks, remember, I'm watching you."
A few minutes later, Ben walked into the club where Matt Audley was tidying up the bar. "Nice job, Snow! We've all heard how you dealt with that liar!"
"I didn't kill him."
"It's okay. You got him out and now he's dead. The whole town thinks you're a hero."
Ben shook his head. "I'm not a hero."
Audley was about to say something more, but Ben caught a glimpse of Winston's woman, Katie, slipping out the back door.He decided to investigate from her.She was unhooking one of the cart horses and saddling her when he found her. "Going somewhere?" he asked.
She looked at him coldly, "You killed Artie."
"Is it his name?"
"Artie Virgox. Dr. Winston is just a stage name."
"I guess most people think so. But I didn't kill him."
"I don't care. I love him—he's going to marry me soon. I guess I figured he'd die in the street. A man like Artie doesn't die in his bed."
"He's a swindler, isn't he? A liar?"
"Yes. But he's fair. Cards and torch tricks. He's taught me a lot. But I begged him to forget about the damned carriage and get on stage," she tensed angrily. A saddle rope, "but he's just going to hang around. I guess he's only happy when he's out peddling his wares and coaxing the townsfolk out of their pockets."
"What about his trap in the railway time zone this time?"
"Here's another plan of his. We were in Dodge City a week ago, and he saw the railroad's plan in the paper, and it occurred to him that he would find a little place that didn't know about the time zone change, and trick people into believing that He can sell extra time, that must be a great scam. We've been to Wickliffe Station before, and we agree it's an excellent place. Sometimes, I feel like people here don't even know that President Garfield was Assassinated and killed!"
"But Winston didn't sell the five hundred hours—he gave them out, or at least the banker would pay for them."
"That's just to make people believe he's got it. He's just doing this scam on one guy - I don't know who - and there's going to be a lot of money coming in. He's going to collect money this afternoon and people know the new time zone Before it happened, we were already far away."
"Are you going now?" he asked, seeing her climb into the saddle.The horses pulling the cart were wearing bits, which seemed uncomfortable.
"Of course I'm going. I don't want that squinting sheriff to think I'm an accessory to fraud and put me in jail," she paused, holding the rein with one hand, "how do you know the railway has changed its time? You Where did you see it?"
"I also found out about the Dodge City newspaper in your carriage. However, if Winston really has some supernatural power that can stop time for an hour, you have to count on the sun to stop moving too." Just after Winston's magic hour, I passed the blacksmith's shop and saw Sheriff Spofford standing in the shadows in front of it. An hour later, the sun shone in front of the shop. I reasoned that if the sun's The location has changed, which means that time has not stopped at all. So, I decided to take a look in your carriage."
She nodded, "Congratulations. I'm on my way."
But just as she was about to ride her horse forward, Sheriff Spofford appeared again and blocked the entrance of the alley. "You can't go anywhere now, miss."
"Get out of my way!" she yelled, pumping the horse as if she were going to run into him.Spofford stretched out his arm, grabbed the reins, and with the other hand yanked her from the saddle.She struggled, but her strength was far from his.Benben wanted to go to help her, but he knew that if the sheriff was cornered, he would not hesitate to use a gun.He made up his mind to stand by and watch.
"Sorry ma'am, no one is allowed to leave this town until we get to the bottom of this shooting."
"I didn't kill it!"
"I just heard you tell Snow that you set up a trick to deceive someone."
"But I don't know who."
"Maybe the scam was successful, and you got the money and wanted to run away."
"If you think so, you can search me!"
"Maybe I will."
"Sheriff—"
"Leave it alone, Snow! I'll let Mrs. Jester help me."
They arrived at the hotel together, and Mrs. Jester accepted the task of searching Katie while the sheriff checked her saddlebags.They found nothing but clothing and a few personal items.She had less than five dollars in her pocket.
"I don't want anything from Artie," she told them. "I'm not a thief. I just ride the horse. I think of another town where I can sell it for some money."
"You'd better stay here another day," the inspector told her.
She was wrapped in one of Mrs Jester's gowns, and the landlady, after examining her dress, finally reported, "It's only five dollars. I think she's telling the truth." She threw Katie's dress at her feet. .Just then, Ben catches a glimpse of something in a pile of her personal belongings.She had some cosmetics in a cloth bag, presumably for Winston's performance.The rough white cloth bag reminded Ben of the bags banks use to store and transport silver and other coins.He picked up the bag and turned it over.The other side of the bag is printed with Wickliffe Station Bank.
"What's this?" asked the sheriff.
"My makeup," Katie replied.
Ben looked at her. "Where did you get that bag?"
"Bank, when I came here before."
"Given it to you by Felix Boers?"
"The banker, yes, I think that's his name."
Ben nodded. "The only person in this town with enough money to be targeted by a crook is the banker. And we already know that Porce is an easy fall for Dr. Winston."
"You're right," agreed Spofford. "Let's talk to Bors."
When Ben and the sheriff arrived at the banker's house on the edge of town, he happened to be there and came out on the porch to greet them.This porch is more suitable for eastern houses, where there will be no muddy boots leaving dirty footprints on oriental rugs. "Guys, what can I do for you?" He gave Ben a disgusted look.
Before the sheriff could speak, Ben quickly said, "We know you gave Dr. Winston a lot of money."
The banker's face flushed. "I'm not giving him money. It's more of an investment. He has some ideas, and I'm interested."
"Like selling you extra time?" Ben surmised. "Will you make a fortune on the stock exchange?"
Felix Poors was visibly discouraged, "Since he's dead, I thought it would be all right to tell you. He explained to me in detail that the new time zone policy imposed by the railroads has confused the whole country. Maybe we Can make a fortune on the New York Stock Exchange. A coal mining company near Salt Lake City is about to launch a large-scale gold strike. Once the strike is confirmed, Winston thinks he can use this extra hour to generate electricity for the brokers in New York. Report and issue an order to buy shares before the stock market closes that day."
"There is no telegram at Wickliffe," said the sheriff.
"So he needs my money to go back to Dodge City. He's in the time business just to prove the whole town can be fooled by time zone changes."
"How much did you give him?"
"Ten thousand dollars," said the banker hoarsely, "did you find it on him?"
"No," Sheriff Spofford responded.
"Then it must be in his carriage."
"I have searched the carriage."
"That woman—"
"I've searched her too," the sheriff asked after a pause, "Mr. Bowers, why didn't you report the incident immediately after you learned that Winston had been shot?"
"I don't want my wife to know. She's upstairs, sick. She keeps saying I'm a fool about money—"
"So a large sum of money is in vain?"
"I plan to see you later."
Unless he's really a gullible fool, even Ben can see that his story doesn't hold water.In this matter of time, it is a very different thing to fool five hundred people in an isolated town than to fool East Coast cities like Salt Lake City and Dodge City with telegraph connections.He hadn't bothered about the ten thousand dollars, maybe he'd gotten the money back after he shot Winston because he had been duped.
But Ben didn't say the thought.As they left the banker's house, Spofford said only: "It seems that whoever killed Winston did us all a great favor."
"Maybe." Ben echoed him.
After the sheriff returned to his office, Ben returned to the hotel.He unlocked the door of the room and walked in disgruntled.Trouble was always following him like a hovering hawk ready to pounce on his prey, and he knew he had to get out of here before anything else happened.Wickliffe Station was not as peaceful as he had hoped.
He fastened his gun belt and took out his long, light trench coat from the closet.It was windy outside, and he had to wear it across the barren wasteland.Then, as he picked up his saddlebags and packed the rest of his luggage, he felt a small, hard object in the pocket of his windbreaker.
It was a cartridge case, too small for his .45 Colt—more like a rifle or carbine case.
A noise from the street drew him to the window.Almost at the place where Winston was killed, Reverend Dixon stopped Katie, who was leading the horse.He was yelling something at her, it seemed she needed help.Ben threw the trench coat and saddlebags on the bed and ran downstairs.
When he got there, Katie was yelling, "That's not true? He's marrying me in Dodge City next week! You're always worried about crime and stuff, but your town is full of crime! That murderer What about Dee's murderer?"
The chaplain blushed and said to her, "Get out of my town, you sinful woman!"
"I want to go too—the sheriff won't let me go!"
Dixon tugged at one of her arms, and Ben grabbed him. "Let her go, Reverend. Spofford's got her in a lot of trouble."
"Who asked you to intervene? You are a foreigner."
"I just wanted to—" He was interrupted by a sudden glint of metal in his right eye.He didn't have time to think about it, he turned his body reflexively, pulled out a .45 from the gun bag, released the firing pin safety, and shot towards his own room.
Katie screamed, and he ran toward the hotel, through the front door, and up the stairs.
She was lying in front of the window, wearing his windbreaker, already soaked in blood.The carbine lay on the floor beside her.
"Mrs. Jester," he said, trying to lift her up.
"It's okay," blood gushed from her mouth, "I killed him. I'm going to kill her. I'm not going to kill you. He's going to marry me. After he promised me, he actually wants to marry her."
"I'm going to get help," he said to her, turning to see Sergeant Spofford enter the room.
"Don't bother. Save yourself the trouble of a trial," said Spofford.
Ben looked at him.They managed to lift her to the bed, but after five minutes, she died.
The sheriff did not file charges against Ben for shooting, but the club owner, Matt Audley, had the town's opinion on Ben. "You killed Mrs. Jester," he said. "There is no woman more popular at Wickliff Station than Mrs. Jester."
"I know," Ben said, "I'm sorry for her death. If I knew it was her by the window, I probably wouldn't have shot so quickly."
"Who do you think it is?"
"I didn't think about it. I just caught a glimpse of the reflection of a rifle barrel in my window. Of course, the first day I checked in, I noticed that the room had a sweeping view of the street, and I thought about it again today before the shooting. The sheriff told me Winston had been shot from above, but I didn't connect that to my room until a shell casing was found in my windbreaker pocket. She put my trench coat on both times Out of her red dress so she wouldn't be recognized through the window. She put the ejected shell in the pocket of my trench coat and forgot. When I realized the killer had used my room, I should have thought it was Mrs. Jester. My door is locked and she is the only one with a spare key."
"Whatever she did," Audley said to him, "you should not have killed her. If she had killed Winston, she would have been a hero—as I thought you were."
"Her motives are not so noble. Winston had been in love with her when he came here a few months ago. He even made her believe that Katie was just hired to perform and was nothing to him. And on Saturday, he又告诉她他马上就要结婚了。今天中午，她从教堂回来后，就去了我的房间，就在你们都以为他成功令时间停止在他胜利的一刻，她开枪射死了他。我向她开枪时，她也要杀凯蒂。”
但马特·奥得利和其他人不想听这些。他们只想让他离开。
他和凯蒂一起骑马出了镇。他们走了大概两英里时，他对她说：“你的马觉得嚼子不舒服。也许我应该看看。”
“不劳你费心。”她飞快地说，但本已经下了马，掰开了马嘴。在嚼子上绑着一个用油纸裹着的小包。
"Well, what is this?"
“该死的你！”她喊道，“那是我的！”
“更像是菲利克斯·波尔斯不见的那些钱。这可真是个诡计，你被搜身时，让马把钱含在嘴里。我就猜到，如果你有那个空钱袋，你就一定也拿了钱，藏在了什么地方。”
“你想做什么？”她问道。
“我们一边走一边说。”本爬上马鞍说道。
Notes:
Notes: