Spanish Gold Read Online Free Page B

the brightness of the sun, and walked away.
    The waitress returned, set a plate in front of him, put a knife and fork down next to the plate, and asked, “You want the coffee?”
    â€œSure.”
    She left and came back with a mug and a huge coffee pot clutched in her hand. The wooden handle looked well used. She filled the cup, glanced at him, and then whirled, heading back to the kitchen.
    Travis turned his attention to his breakfast. He salted the steak and then cut into it. He took a bite and then tried the eggs. They were runny and the potatoes were cold. Travis found that he didn’t care about that because he knew there were men still at war who were chewing on maggot-infested hardtack and eating biscuits that were as hard as rocks. They were the men who had stayed on the field after Gettysburg, the men who had stayed in the army after the slaughter that battle had been. There was nothing as bad as that here. Nothing for him to complain about here. He put the image out of his mind.
    He ate slowly, sipping coffee and keeping an eye on the street. He put down his fork as the old prospector appeared in the doorway of the saloon. He paused long enough to put his hat on his head, tug at the waist of his pants, and then step off, walking along the front of the building.
    From the unsteady gait, Travis knew that the prospector had spent the night spinning stories about the Spanish gold. It looked as if more than one man had volunteered drinks to keep the old prospector talking.
    Travis finished the last of his coffee as the prospector disappeared into the early morning shadows. Travis stood and dug in his pocket for a dollar. He dropped it on the table but before he could turn, he saw the two Kansans move from the shadows in the alley near the saloon.
    â€œNow what the hell?” he said.
    The men stopped at the door of the saloon, peered in and then began walking again, looking as if they were following the old man.
    â€œYou want anything else?”
    Travis turned, surprised by the woman. He hadn’t heard her approach. He looked at her. “No. Thank you.”
    She picked up the empty plate, dropped the fork onto the center of it, put the mug there, and left. She didn’t say another word to him.
    Now Travis looked back to the street, but it was vacant again. The men from Kansas were nowhere to be seen. He leaned forward and saw only a man on horseback.
    Travis walked into the lobby and started for the stairs, but then stopped. Instead he turned and walked out the open front door. He stood for a moment in the early morning light and was aware that the stable was close. He stepped down into the street.
    To his right was a wagon parked near the front of the feed store. A woman sat on the bench loosely holding the reins. Two men stood in the doorway talking.
    To the left was the edge of the town. A small house surrounded by a short adobe fence. And opposite him was a series of buildings including the office of the territory newspaper. There was an alley, and along the side wall a set of steps led up into a second floor room.
    There was something in the air. Travis was sure. The appearance of those two Kansans right after the old prospector meant something. They were following him. Waiting for him. Travis couldn’t convince himself that anyone would be dumb enough to believe an old story of gold hidden by the Spanish told by a man hustling drinks.
    Just as Travis had decided that nothing was wrong, there was a single scream cut off suddenly. That had to come from the alley on the other side of the saloon. Travis stepped down into the street and started across.
    There was a second shout, “NO!” and then silence. Travis broke into a run. He leaped up on the walk and slipped closer to the side of the building. He moved along it and then peeked around into the alley.
    The old prospector lay on the ground, his hands up to protect his face. One of the Kansans bent over him, his fist raised as if