Charlie Martz and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF

Bill?”
    â€œNo,” said the rider with the same faint smile, “just Bill.”
    â€œKinda short, isn’t it,” said Schmidt, his curiosity returning.
    â€œSmitty, it’s long, short, or any way you want to look at it . . . but you ain’t given me near enough likker yet. Bill I guess’ll be good enough as long as I always come a runnin’ when the cook yells it out.”
    â€œSmitty sure is curious about you, Bill,” put in the bartender. “Bet he thought you was some gunny when you first come in, but I could tell right away that you was . . .”
    â€œLook, Mister, you don’t know who I am . . . you probably never will know. I could be Billy Bonnie’s daddy and you’d never know one way t’other. Now if I was a gunny like you say, you’d be sure using an unhealthy way to find out. What you say we just all stick to our own business?”
    â€œDon’t mind Martin or me, we’re just kind of starved for knowing what goes on outside the Territory. Like I said before, we heard about the ’Paches jumping reservation, but haven’t heard what’s happened since. Charlie Martz was in—”
    â€œCharlie Martz!” The rider stiffened and almost shouted the name, but relaxed immediately, as if to hide his excitement. “You mean to tell me old Charlie holes out around here! Well, I’ll be go to hell!”
    The German again eyes him with interest. “You a friend of Charlie’s?”
    â€œHell, Charlie and me are real old friends. Known each other since about ’71. Why he’s one of the reasons I’m around this part of the country. Found out he was in the south part of the Territory, but didn’t know where for sure. Hell, old Charlie . . . what’s he doin’ now anyway?”
    Martin broke in before the German could answer. “Charlie Martz is the law around here, Bill. He lives up to Doña Ana, but you never find him home. Most time he’s up in the hills huntin’ or fishin’ or somethin’, but he comes—”
    â€œCharlie Martz is the law! You don’t tell me.” The rider smiled broadly.
    â€œHe comes in quite regular lately,” Martin went on, “about once or twice a week for the past month. He does enough movin’ around, but he sure don’t do much tendin’ to the law. Bet the folks up to Doña Ana get rid of him pretty soon.”
    â€œI’m afraid Martin is no respecter of age. Charlie is getting along in years and doesn’t have all the enthusiasm that Martin has. He doesn’t have all the worthless talk either.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, worthless—”
    â€œNever mind what it’s worth,” interrupted the rider. He looked back to the German. “I’ve come a long way to see Charlie. Think you can tell me where he’d be about this time?”
    â€œMy friend, you are in luck. I can tell you exactly where he is. As a matter of fact, he is coming to my place sometime this afternoon. If you’d care to accompany me home I’ll present you to Charlie in the flesh.”
    â€œSmitty here’s makin’ over a gun for Charlie,” Martin put in eagerly.
    â€œMakin’ over a gun?”
    â€œIf you please, Martin,” said the German with a show of dignity. “Most of my life I worked as a gunsmith . . . in the east . . . now I have a few cattle, very few, and some crops I raise. Just enough for Flora and me to get along on, and maybe a little more. But my first love is still guns. It is a pleasant pastime, and I take great pleasure in my work. Just ask anyone if my work is not the best.”
    â€œWhat’s Charlie want with a new hawg leg?” the rider asked with more than a little interest.
    â€œMust want it just for huntin’, as far as I can see,” drawled Martin. “He sure don’t do no work. Like I said, the folks up to Doña Ana are goin’