A Different Trade Read Online Free Page A

would’ve had enough wind in his sails to make things a whole lot worse.”
    She smiled and nodded before extending a slender hand. “I’m Madeline.”
    When Clint shook her hand, he found out that she was even softer than she looked. “Clint Adams. Pleasure to meet you.”
    Madeline’s skin was pale and smooth. Her straight black hair fell down to well past her shoulders and was held back with a dark red ribbon. Up close, Clint could also see that the luscious red color of her lips wasn’t there because of any paint or cream.
    â€œExcuse me,” said a voice from over Clint’s shoulder, “but do I know you?”
    Clint turned to find the barkeep at his post, studying him with nervous eyes. “I just got to town,” Clint replied.
    â€œYes, but it seemed like you knew me. You know . . . before when you asked if I was Leo Parker. Well . . . I am.”
    The sweet scent of Madeline’s hair had filled Clint’s nose as she’d leaned in to give him a grateful kiss on the cheek. He was somewhat distracted until she turned around and walked back to the stage, where the guitar player was already starting in on another song. He had to keep from watching the sway of Madeline’s hips before getting distracted all over again. “Right. We don’t know each other, but we do have a mutual acquaintance. A man from California by the name of Gregor Petrovich.”
    Leo’s eyes widened and he smiled broadly. “Ah yes! Gregor! Where is he?”
    â€œThat’s just it. He couldn’t make it on account of a boat coming in from South America that he needs to meet personally. It got held up in a storm, but he wanted to make sure you got your delivery. Gregor’s a friend and I was headed this direction anyway so I brought the shipment on his behalf.”
    Gregor Petrovich was more of a friendly business associate than a friend. A hustler in the import and export trade, Gregor was the sort of man who was quick to buy someone a drink and offer them a way to make a few quick dollars. He was also the type to get himself into trouble after playing too many angles at once. Rather than owe a man like that a favor, Clint decided to square their account by taking a small package to Larga Noche.
    Obviously not interested on any of that, Leo asked, “Where is it?”
    â€œWith my horse.”
    â€œYou left it with your horse?”
    â€œIsn’t that what I just said?”
    Leo blinked and twitched as if he’d just been struck by lightning. Finally, he managed to ask, “Can you get it for me?”
    â€œSure,” Clint replied. “That’s why I’m here.” He tipped back his beer mug and then set it down. “Have that filled when I get back.”
    â€œOf course!”
    Clint stepped outside, rummaged through his saddlebags, and retrieved a package that was wrapped in paper and tied up in twine. He tucked it under his arm and headed back into the saloon. A few strides short of the bar, Clint showed the package to Leo and then tossed it in a high, slow arc. “There you go.”
    The barkeep stretched out both hands and gasped to catch the package like it was a swaddled baby. “Be careful!”
    â€œI was. Those things are wrapped up tight enough to survive a tumble down a steep slope.”
    Just when it seemed Leo couldn’t look more panicked, he did. “Did you drop this down a slope?”
    As much as Clint wanted to say that he had, just to see how many more veins would stand out on Leo’s forehead, he took the higher road. “Of course I didn’t. I cared for that whatever-it-is like it was my firstborn.”
    â€œGood. After what I paid for it, that’s the least I’d expect.”
    Everyone in the saloon had gone back to what they’d been doing before Westin’s departure. Clint stood and watched as the barkeep lovingly tugged at the twine so he could