The Ghost and Billy Martin

by John M. Floyd

About the Author: John M. Floyd’s work has appeared in more than 350 different publications, including AHMM, EQMM, Strand Magazine, The Saturday Evening Post, and four editions of Otto Penzler’s best-mysteries-of-the-year anthologies. John is an Edgar finalist, a Shamus Award winner, a five-time Derringer Award winner, a Golden Derringer Award winner, a three-time Pushcart Prize nominee, and the author of nine books.

Excerpt

“I saw something,” I said, standing up. “There—outside the window.”

The two other people in the one-room cabin, my ma and the man with the gun, turned to look at me. It was the first time I’d said a word in the half hour since he’d arrived. When they then looked at the window, nothing was out there except the cloudy late-morning sky.

But something in my face must’ve made a difference. The man—he’d told us his name was Murphy, which I doubted, and that his limp was from a wound at Gettysburg, which I sort of believed—rose from his chair, his revolver still pointed at us. Carefully he opened the door and peeked through the crack. I waited, holding my breath. Then he picked up his rifle and stepped outside.

This was my chance. I dashed across the room to the woodbox my pa had made just before he died and took out his big Colt. I knew it was fully loaded; I’d shot a snake with it just last week and reloaded afterward. I had turned to aim it at the open doorway when I saw my ma shake her head urgently and hold out her open hand. Half disappointed and half relieved, I ran back to her, handed it over, and sat where I’d been before, beside her at the wooden table. She tucked the gun away in the folds of her dress just as Murphy appeared again at the door, his .44 revolver in one hand and his Winchester in the other. Beyond him, the clouds seemed to be thinning. The sun was shining through.

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