Colorado Clash Read Online Free

points. But maybe his experiences on big-city newspapers—if they weren’t just a figment of his besotted imagination—might actually make him the one man in town who could sort through everything that had happened and make sense of it.
    “It’s not always safe to keep secrets. If you’re on to somebody he may be on to you.”
    “I keep a derringer up my sleeve. Spent some time on riv erboats as a gambler.”
    “The killer’s going to come at you with a hell of a lot more than a derringer if he thinks you can identify him.”
    “That, Mr. Fargo, is my concern, not yours.”
    And with that he once again doffed his hat and disappeared into the night.

3
    Trail dust and a good night’s sleep were Fargo’s two main concerns when he checked into the Royale. The nattily attired desk clerk assured him that both Fargo’s desires could be taken care of with no problem. With a great deal of pleasure, in fact, he said in his best desk clerk voice.
    The lobby was filled with drummers. The checkered suits and the black bags gave them away. Fargo enjoyed his travels. He was just glad he didn’t have to wear stupid suits and hawk worthless products to naïve men and women across the West. And not all of them were harmless. He’d run into a few snake oil salesmen who peddled everything from opium to murder. He’d once shot a drummer who hired out as a killer when he visited a town. He usually managed to escape in time. Until he happened to be in the same town as Fargo at the same time.
    The room was small but clean and the mattress seemed to be new. He sat down to test it and liked what he felt. Now for the trail dust. The desk clerk had told him to go to room D where he would find a big aluminum tub. He would see that a woman was there to assist Fargo. Fargo brought clean clothes and found room D. The woman proved to be a fine piece of goods, dark—probably Italian—with sensuously sculpted features and a blue cotton dress that revealed rich breasts and hips made for handling.
    Near the big tub were four buckets of water. Steam rose from them. And on a table behind the buckets were towels and soap.
    “My name is Antonia.”
    “Skye Fargo.”
    “You’re a big one.”
    “And you’re a pretty one.”
    She obviously enjoyed the compliment. He pulled the silver button from his pocket and showed it to her. “You ever see this before?”
    “No. It is from a woman’s garment.”
    “That’s what I figured.”
    “Where did you find it?”
    He changed the subject. “How about that bath?”
    “I will step out while you take your clothes off. There is soapy water in the tub. It is cool. I’ll use the other buckets to heat it up as we go along.”
    In a graceful glide she left the room. Fargo stripped down, piled his dusty clothes in a heap, then lowered himself carefully into the tub. The water was more than cool, it was downright cold. A couple of shudders and he was fine. “C’mon back.”
    Antonia appeared and silently went to one of the buckets. She took the handle with long fingers and carried it to the tub. “I will pour slowly. You tell me when it’s too hot.”
    As she bent over to pour the water, he noticed how her full breasts pressed against the blue cotton of her dress. He also noticed that she noticed his gaze. She smiled.
    He leaned back, muscular arms on the sides of the tub, closed his eyes. This was a pleasure a wandering man like himself didn’t experience all that often. He might as well enjoy it.
    She even began to sing, which relaxed him all the more. She had a sweet voice. Too bad he couldn’t understand the Italian lyrics.
    “What’s the song about?”
    “Two lonely people who meet on a street in Rome one summer night.”
    “Do they stay lonely?”
    Her laugh was as sweet as her singing voice. “Not for long. That’s what the song is really about. How they meet and come together.”
    “I think I like that song.”
    “It’s one of my favorites, too.”
    “Does the desk clerk know you