The Farmer's Son

Chapter 56 Resolutions

In the diner, under the usual clatter of dishes and utensils and talk of weather and crops, another conversation was circling the tables and counter.

"Thankfully the fire didn't spread to the rest of the house. The worse of it was in the front bedroom and the hall."

"That was cause of the cowboy, in'it? Troy said he ran around pouring sand and water until he was half dead from smoke inhalation by the time the brigade got there."

"Heard young Walker got caught in it, too, and the cowboy pulled him out. They say what caused the fire?"

"Nothing official yet. I heard they found a good set of whiskey and cigarettes. But..."

"What?"

"Well, neither the cowboy or Alan smoked. And my niece, Tabitha, the nurse? She said when they brought the boys in, Alan had a nasty bump on the back of his head, and when they tested them, neither one of them had a drop of alcohol in they blood."

"I'm not surprised. Even if Ray hadn't of poured months of his life into that farm, he known better than to put young Walker in harm's way. Not with Noah a stone's throw away."

"Ain't that the truth. So I wonder..."

"Yeah, you think..."

"Could Ray be innocent?"

*

Sheriff Boris' thighs had just touched the leather of his chair behind his desk when the door opened and Noah strode in. "Noah," he said, standing back up. "I was just about to call."

"Saved you the trouble," Noah grunted. "Any news?"

"Lots," Boris said, gesturing to the guest chair, and finally sitting as Noah did. "How are the boys?"

"As well as could be," Noah said. "Alan bounced back already, but Ray..." He shook his head with a sigh. "He's questioning his place here. And I can't say I blame him. I've been doing the same."

"Don't be like that," Boris said. "You belong here, and him too, if he wants to. Clearing up the case against him will go a long way towards proving that. The tip he gave us, about looking for cigarettes at the other places where he was allegedly seen, was a good one."

Reaching into his desk drawer, Boris took out a handful of evidence bags, each with half a dozen cigarette butts. Along with the bags were print outs of the photos of the pockmarked man from the lounge.

"We haven't been able to pick him up," Boris said, frowning at the photos. "He hasn't been back to the lounge. My guess is he won't be coming back around for a while."

"So where does that leave us?" Noah asked, frowning himself. "My son was knocked out and set on fire, if it wasn't for Ray he'd be dead. I ain't gonna let Ray take the fall for that."

"He won't," Boris said. "The State Troopers think the fire was intentional, that the liquor was the accelerant, because none of the boys had been drinking. That, and the cigarette butt Alan found in the room, and managed to grab before Ray pulled him out, seems that someone was trying to frame Ray. Maybe even for murder."

"But it ain't proof," Noah said, fist tightening on his knee.

"I'm afraid it's circumstantial at best," Boris admitted. "The cigarette butts had all kinds of DNA, but there were no hits in the system."

"I think I can help you there."

Turning in his seat, Noah looked up as a tall man paused in the doorway, removing a large white cowboy hat from his head.

"Name's Buzz McMurry," the man said. "And I think you'll want to hear what I have to say, Mr. Walker."

*