Ransom Read Online Free

with his hair in wild disarray, picked up his hat and jammed it onto his head. He wobbled a little, then righted himself and headed for the batwings. He stepped out into bright daylight, broke and miserable and without even the price of a beer in his pockets. The sunshine stabbed his eyes, the pain causing him to squint,closing first one eye and then the other while he tried to navigate across the street.
    The only good thing about the day was that his stomach was so sour that the mere thought of food made him want to puke. Some more. The stink on him suggested he had already puked all over himself sometime during the night. The good thing about that was that he had no desire for the meal he could not afford to buy.
    But he had his guns. And he had a horse. Somewhere. He would just ride out until he came across a traveler. Someone alone if possible or at least not too many of them at once. And he would rob the unfortunate son of a bitch.
    He belched, gave serious thought to puking again, and stumbled down the street toward the livery, hoping like hell he had had the foresight to pay for the horse’s board in advance.
    * * *
    â€œWhoa. You dumb sumbish.” Erv reined to a halt, then turned crossways to the road and looked up and down in both directions. He could not see anyone. Which was a shame because his stomach was beginning to settle. That meant he would be hungry soon. He knew himself well enough to anticipate that. What he needed now was a traveler.
    But then for a man in Erv’s line of work, patience was more than a virtue, it was a necessity.
    The sun was a good half hour higher when he saw a dark speck approaching from the east. Two specks. Erv smiled. As the specks grew into recognizable forms, they appeared to be a Mexican peasant wearing white pajamasand a straw sombrero leading a donkey loaded with pale sticks. Firewood, he supposed.
    It was a pity the Mex was not carrying something useful, but what was a man to do?
    Erv rubbed his chin and hooked a knee around his saddle horn. He did not mind waiting now that he had the fellow in sight.
    * * *
    Ederle sat cross-legged in the shade of a cottonwood while his horse cropped grass nearby. He had his hat upended in his lap. The sweat-rimed hat held the take given up by that Mex peon who had had the misfortune to be on the same road at the same time as Ervin “Big Man” Ederle.
    Big Man my ass, Ederle told himself when he was done counting the nickels and pennies he had taken from the Mexican. Old Man was more like it now. Dumb Man. Robbing for nickels and dimes. There had been a day when a dozen men felt privileged to ride with the Big Man. They took down big money. Banks, stagecoaches, once even a train. They had all fallen to the Ederle Gang.
    Then Erv’s luck began to turn bad. Too much shooting for too little return. Gang members died or were crippled. Replacements were slow to come. The size of the gang dwindled until the final small core of three men pulled out and went their own way with Johnny Baggs taking the leadership that rightfully belonged to Erv.
    Thousands of dollars had passed through the hands of the Ederle Gang back in the old days.
    Now he had . . . three dollars and fourteen cents.
    He stood, his knees aching and his hands hurting the way they had begun to do of late.
    He was getting old, damn it. That was the truth of the matter. He was getting old and tired and he wanted to find someplace where he could settle down and stay. Someplace warm. Someplace where there would not be posters out on him or posses to worry about.
    Mexico was the most likely spot or down toward the border in Arizona Territory. It was kind of nice down there. Or had been the last he was there, which was quite a while back now. Before the war back East? He thought so.
    He could find a little shack not too awful far from a store. Take in a little brown-skinned woman to do for him. Erv was partial to the dusky ladies. She could cook his meals and wash