Devil's Canyon Read Online Free Page B

Devil's Canyon
Book: Devil's Canyon Read Online Free
Author: Ralph Compton
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wagon.
    *   *   *
    â€œHe’s a sure enough dude, if I ever saw one,” Shanghai said, when Durham had gone. “What in tarnation is he doin’ out here, with mules and a wagon?”
    â€œLikely one jump ahead of his past,” said Tarno. “Never seen a gambler yet that there wasn’t enough skeletons in his closet to start a graveyard.”
    â€œWe don’t question his past, unless it catches up to him and begins causin’ us grief,” Faro said. “I doubt there’s a man on the frontier who hasn’t left somethin’ behind that he ain’t exactly proud of.”
    â€œAmen to that,” said Collins. “Whatever his reason for having teams and a wagon, and whatever his reason for being here, it’s our good fortune.”
    â€œI’m wonderin’ why he’s takin’ a wagon to California through such god-awful country as this,” Dallas said. “Hell, he could have gone north to Cheyenne and rode the old Union Pacific the rest of the way.”
    â€œLet’s get his wagon loaded next,” said Collins. “Then we’ll begin loading dynamite and ammunition.”
    The loading went smoothly, as Collins allowed the teamsters to pack the goods so that the loads wouldn’t shift on the inclines and down slopes. When all the wagons were loaded, Collins drove Durham’s wagon with the others to the lot across from the wagon yard.
    â€œThis is next to our last chance at town-cooked grub for maybe a year,” Faro said. “Some of us will have to stay with the wagons while the others eat.”
    â€œThe four of you go ahead,” said Collins. “When you return, then I’ll eat.”
    Faro and his three companions sought out a café and enjoyed a meal with plenty of hot coffee. It was just getting dark when they returned to the wagons, and found Durham there.
    â€œI decided to bunk with the rest of you,” the gambler said.
    â€œThere’s grain for your mules in your wagon,” said Faro. “Go easy on it, as long as there’s decent graze.”
    Durham said nothing. His mind was awash with questions, the most bothersome one being how he was supposed to learn the purpose of this journey. If Slade and his outlaws ambushed the teamsters and seized the wagons, the most they could expect would be a few hundred dollars’ worth of supplies. Of course, the mules and wagons would add to the spoils, but Durham suspected that Slade had in mind somethingfar more profitable. So far, Durham had been told nothing but the possible destination. For all he knew, this Collins was a Mormon, freighting supplies in for the winter, but there was something that didn’t quite fit. When Durham had left Tennessee in 1855, St. Louis newspapers had been full of tales of difficulties with Mormons along the Oregon Trail. They were an independent, self-sufficient clan, inclined to have their own teams and wagons. Turning his mind back to Faro Duval and his teamster partners, it didn’t seem likely they would have taken on loads of one-way freight through five hundred miles of desolate, mountainous terrain. Not unless there was more at stake than just teamster wages.
    â€œBy God,” said Durham, under his breath, “Slade may just be right. There’s plenty I haven’t been told, and much more than meets the eye.”
    *   *   *
    Faro and his companions were up before dawn.
    â€œOur last chance for town-cooked grub, gents,” Faro said, “but we can’t all go at the same time. Somebody must stay with the wagons.”
    â€œI’m not hungry,” said Durham, remembering that the McCutcheon sisters were somewhere in town. “I’ll stay with the wagons.”
    â€œSo will I,” Levi Collins said. “I’ve some last-minute business, and I’ll attend to that when I go eat.”
    Collins sat down, his back to a wagon wheel, and

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