Beyond Squaw Creek Read Online Free Page A

man’s lower jaw dropped.
    â€œSkye Fargo! Well, I’ll be skinned! Get on in here outta the damp, ya crazy coon!”
    The old man threw the door wide and stepped back inside the cabin. Fargo followed him in, drawing the girl along behind him.
    Old Smiley Bristo stood just inside the door, flexing his snakeskin spats and grinning broadly, toothlessly up at the Trailsman towering over him. His breath was fetid with yeasty beer, whiskey, and tobacco. “What the hell brings you up to this country, Skye? How long’s it been, anyways…?”
    The old man’s voice trailed off as his drink-bleary gaze slid to the girl stepping up beside Fargo. “Well, I’ll be hanged,” he said, voiced hushed with awe, raking an index finger through his silvery patch beard. “You got a woman with ya.”
    The word “woman” had no sooner escaped the oldster’s lips than the half dozen men sitting at the tables in the room’s smoky shadows, right of the long plank bar running along the room’s left wall, swiveled toward Fargo and the girl. The Trailsman’s eyes had not yet adjusted to the room’s shadows, which were shunted to and fro by hanging oil lamps and the cracking fire in the giant fieldstone hearth. But one look at the shirt clinging like a second skin to Valeria’s full breasts, nipples jutting from behind the soaked wool, told him what their eyes had found.
    Valeria, apparently, had also become aware of the men’s scrutiny. Shyly, she turned her back to the men, and cast Fargo an uneasy sidelong glance.
    â€œThe lady would like a room and a hot bath,” Fargo said. “Some dry clothes, if you got any.”
    His eyes glued to the girl, Smiley opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when a low voice rumbled from a table near the fire. “Shee-it, she need her back washed, too?”
    Chuckles washed up from the webbing smoke and jostling shadows, heads jerking.
    The girl sidled up close to Fargo as the old man said, his voice hushed as before, “I usually give the ladies from the stage the Chicago room upstairs, between New York and Abilene, as the curtains is pink and the mattress is goose feathers, plucked and stuffed myself. I’ll heat some water pronto. And I’ll rustle up a shirt and britches though I don’t have much in the way of female frillies.” He glanced shyly at the girl with a truckling bow. “Are you hungry, miss? I got a nice stew on the fire—the kidneys of a sow griz I just shot yesterday. The boys has already had some, and nobody’s been sick so far!”
    Valeria splayed her hand on her chest and cleared her throat. “The food sounds delightful, but I think just the room and the bath will do for now.”
    â€œI’ll show the lady to her room, Smiley,” Fargo said, taking the girl’s arm, “if you wanna get started on the water.”
    When the old man nodded and turned toward the curtained door behind the bar, Fargo began leading the girl toward the stairs at the back of the room. The girl stopped and turned toward the old man. “Oh, Mr…. uh…Smiley,” she said haltingly. “I was wondering if there was…a… lock on the door?”
    Again, snickers and chuckles rose from amongst the tables, chairs creaking.
    Smiley turned at the curtained doorway, frowning as though he wasn’t sure he understood. “Why…no, ma’am. No locks. Never seen no need for none.”
    Fargo forced a smile and continued leading the girl between the bar and the tables. As he walked, his eyes adjusted well enough that he could make out a few of the bearded faces turned toward them, recognizing a couple of burly mule skinners from Canada and a gambler from Council Bluffs.
    At the back of the room, he and Valeria mounted the creaky stairs. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure none of the men, still staring after them, was leveling a gun at him or preparing