California Crackdown Read Online Free PDF

street was the entrance to the saloon; around the corner on the other street was the entrance to the hotel.
    Fargo went in the hotel entrance and looked around. The hotel had a lobby that was separate from the saloon, and like the hotel in Sacramento, there was a grand staircase made out of marble and polished wood that soared upward in a wide curve over the stuffed chairs and couches of the lobby.
    There was a separate dining area off of the lobby and a door that marked the entrance into the saloon and kept the noise in the lobby down. The smells coming from the dining area were inviting and Fargo set his mind on a good dinner, then maybe a little poker and a drink to round off the evening.
    He arranged for a bath to be drawn in his room as he checked in. Before going upstairs, Fargo poked his head in to the saloon to take a look around. The place had a number of what looked like high-stakes poker games going and a stage for dancers later in the evening. It smelled of cigar smoke and whiskey and felt inviting. A brass spittoon sat near every table and behind the long wooden bar. The wall was full of bottles arranged around a huge ornate mirror. Fargo had no doubt he could spend many a comfortable evening in the place.
    He was about to head to his room when a woman in a dark dress with pink trim stepped into the saloon from a back room. She had long brown hair, beautiful white skin, and green eyes that could hold a man firmly in place no matter what the occasion. Fargo knew that for a fact, since he had spent many a pleasurable night staring into those eyes in Colorado a few years before.
    Her name was Anne Dowling, and she was the widow of Wallace Dowling. Wallace had been a rancher and had been killed by rustlers. Anne had run the ranch for years before Fargo met her. They had become lovers and he had helped her out with two of her ranch hands who were threatening her and trying to take over her ranch.
    Her bubbling personality made her one of those people whom it was almost impossible to say no to. And she had been a lover like none he had known since.
    Fargo stared, taking in her beauty and flowing movements as she headed behind the bar like she owned the place. Then it dawned on him that likely she did. This was the Wallace Hotel. Her husband had been named Wallace.
    He moved through the saloon, watching her work on something on the back counter. He finally reached the bar and stood staring at the white skin of her neck above the collar of her dress. He had loved the feel of her skin. The memory was as if they had made love yesterday, not four years before.
    The bartender approached him. “What will it be, sir?”
    “A simple hello from a beautiful woman would be a nice start.”
    The bartender frowned and started to say something when Anne spun around, all smiles. “Skye!”
    She moved to the bar, took Fargo’s hands, and squeezed them, then almost climbed up on the bar to kiss his cheek.
    Her green eyes sparkled with excitement at seeing him. He had to admit, he was excited in more ways than one at seeing her again as well.
    “What are you doing in Placerville?”
    “I was about to ask you the same question,” Fargo said, laughing.
    “Long story.” She squeezed his hands again, her smile beaming just as he remembered it. “Have you had dinner?”
    “Just going up to my room to drop off my gear, get cleaned up, and do exactly that.”
    “Wonderful,” she said, laughing. “Mind if a woman invites herself to your table?”
    “Anne, it would be my pleasure,” he said, bowing slightly.
    She released her grip on his hands and turned to the bartender. “Reg, this is the Trailsman. He doesn’t pay for a drink in here.”
    Reg smiled and nodded to Fargo, clearly recognizing the name. “Nice meeting you, sir. Anne has spoken of you often and I’ve heard many other stories. It is an honor and a pleasure.”
    “A bartender who serves me free drinks,” Fargo said, shaking the bartender’s solid hand and