Dark Canyon (1963) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Louis L'amour
read on, skimming the local items, and at last he pushed back in his chair and was rising when the door opened and Marie Shattuck entered with Pico. McCarty wiped his hands and came up to the counter again. "How do you do, Marie. Howdy, Pico."
The printer turned and gestured toward Riley. "Miss Shattuck, Pico, meet Gaylord Riley. He's ranching over west. Newcomer.'
Riley straightened up, suddenly aware that he was flushing. "Shattuck? Of the Running S?"
"You know of us?"
"Only that you're running Herefords, and I'd like to buy some.'
Pico's mahogany face was inscrutable, and he looked at Riley with care. This man had been up the creek and over the mountain-he was no average man.
"Uncle Dan wouldn't dream of selling, Mr. Riley. He had too much trouble getting them in the first place. But you might talk to him."
When they had paid for their paper and gone, Riley turned to McCarty. "I saw an item there in the paper about a gun ba ttle. Somebody named Spooner.
That wouldn't be him sitting down in front of the saloon, would it?"
"It would. And he's a man to leave alone. If you had read back a little further you'd see that two, three months before that one he had another fight . . . killed that man, too."
"Thanks."
McCarty watched him as he left the office and turned down the street; and McCarty, who had operated newspapers or worked as a printer in many western towns, was puzzled.
There were many varieties of men in the West, but this one had none of the diffidence of the average cowhand. Young as he was, he carried himself with a quiet assurance, yet with a watchfulness that reminded McCarty of Earp, Courtright, or Hickok. But he was not one of these, and no other that he had ever heard of.
Rimrock was a town without secrets, and before nightfall McCarty heard the story of the deposit of ten thousand dollars in the local bank. He heard also that Riley had hired two cowhands, both of them known to McCarty.
Cruz was a Mexican, lean, hard-riding, and capable. Darby Lewis was a loafer much of the time, though when he worked he was a top hand on any outfit, but he worked as little as possible.
The restaurant at Rimrock was the town's one attempt at the ways of the city. Instead of merely the usual boarding-house tables, they had a dozen tables that would seat four people each. The boardinghouse tables they had as well, and few of the citizens patronized anything else.
Martin Hardcastle ate at one of the smaller tables, and so did Amos Burrage, but there were few others who did except Shattuck and his niece. Gaylord Riley chose a table by himself because he did not wish to be questioned or led into talk. He wante d time to think, to plan, and to sort out what he had learned that day.
Most of all, he wanted to think about what he had read about the attempted robbery at Pagosa Springs, for if the information was true, two of the members of the Colbum gang were wounded, perhaps seriously. If so, they would need food, a hide-out, and maybe medicine.
He sat alone and ate alone, conscious that at a nearby table sat Marie Shattuck, with Pico.
He was sitting where he could watch the door, for he was expecting the sheriff. From the local items he had gathered that Sheriff Larsen ate his supper in the restaurant once or twice each week, and dropped in more often for coffee. Sooner or later they must meet, and Riley preferred it to be now.
Pico glanced at Marie. "New hombre," he said slyly.
"Picot Will you stop trying to marry me off?" "Your uncle, he is a busy man, and he knows much of cattle, nothing of women. Your mother and your aunt are dead. Who is to look after you if not Pico?"
Suddenly the door opened and Martin Hardcastle came in. Riley, attuned to such things, saw the look he gave Marie, and saw Pico's stiffening; then he saw the Mexican slowly relax, but as a big cat relaxes while watching a snake-quiet, but poised and alert.
Hardcastle glanced at Riley, then walked on to an empty table and sat down, facing
The printer turned and gestured toward Riley. "Miss Shattuck, Pico, meet Gaylord Riley. He's ranching over west. Newcomer.'
Riley straightened up, suddenly aware that he was flushing. "Shattuck? Of the Running S?"
"You know of us?"
"Only that you're running Herefords, and I'd like to buy some.'
Pico's mahogany face was inscrutable, and he looked at Riley with care. This man had been up the creek and over the mountain-he was no average man.
"Uncle Dan wouldn't dream of selling, Mr. Riley. He had too much trouble getting them in the first place. But you might talk to him."
When they had paid for their paper and gone, Riley turned to McCarty. "I saw an item there in the paper about a gun ba ttle. Somebody named Spooner.
That wouldn't be him sitting down in front of the saloon, would it?"
"It would. And he's a man to leave alone. If you had read back a little further you'd see that two, three months before that one he had another fight . . . killed that man, too."
"Thanks."
McCarty watched him as he left the office and turned down the street; and McCarty, who had operated newspapers or worked as a printer in many western towns, was puzzled.
There were many varieties of men in the West, but this one had none of the diffidence of the average cowhand. Young as he was, he carried himself with a quiet assurance, yet with a watchfulness that reminded McCarty of Earp, Courtright, or Hickok. But he was not one of these, and no other that he had ever heard of.
Rimrock was a town without secrets, and before nightfall McCarty heard the story of the deposit of ten thousand dollars in the local bank. He heard also that Riley had hired two cowhands, both of them known to McCarty.
Cruz was a Mexican, lean, hard-riding, and capable. Darby Lewis was a loafer much of the time, though when he worked he was a top hand on any outfit, but he worked as little as possible.
The restaurant at Rimrock was the town's one attempt at the ways of the city. Instead of merely the usual boarding-house tables, they had a dozen tables that would seat four people each. The boardinghouse tables they had as well, and few of the citizens patronized anything else.
Martin Hardcastle ate at one of the smaller tables, and so did Amos Burrage, but there were few others who did except Shattuck and his niece. Gaylord Riley chose a table by himself because he did not wish to be questioned or led into talk. He wante d time to think, to plan, and to sort out what he had learned that day.
Most of all, he wanted to think about what he had read about the attempted robbery at Pagosa Springs, for if the information was true, two of the members of the Colbum gang were wounded, perhaps seriously. If so, they would need food, a hide-out, and maybe medicine.
He sat alone and ate alone, conscious that at a nearby table sat Marie Shattuck, with Pico.
He was sitting where he could watch the door, for he was expecting the sheriff. From the local items he had gathered that Sheriff Larsen ate his supper in the restaurant once or twice each week, and dropped in more often for coffee. Sooner or later they must meet, and Riley preferred it to be now.
Pico glanced at Marie. "New hombre," he said slyly.
"Picot Will you stop trying to marry me off?" "Your uncle, he is a busy man, and he knows much of cattle, nothing of women. Your mother and your aunt are dead. Who is to look after you if not Pico?"
Suddenly the door opened and Martin Hardcastle came in. Riley, attuned to such things, saw the look he gave Marie, and saw Pico's stiffening; then he saw the Mexican slowly relax, but as a big cat relaxes while watching a snake-quiet, but poised and alert.
Hardcastle glanced at Riley, then walked on to an empty table and sat down, facing
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