Corkscrew and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF

looking fixedly at nothing, his mouth puckered a bit. Buck Small’s pop-eyes were intent on the tip of his cue.
    â€œYou might get one at Echlin’s stable,” Milk River said slowly, meeting my gaze with guileless blue eyes; “though it ain’t likely he’s got anything that’ll live long if you hurry it. I tell you what—Peery, out to the ranch, has got a buckskin that’d just fit you. He won’t want to let him go, but if you took some real money along and flapped it in his face, maybe you could deal. He does need money.”
    â€œYou’re not steering me into a horse I can’t handle, are you?” I asked.
    The pale eyes went blank.
    â€œI ain’t steering you into nothing whatsomever, Mister,” he said. “You asked for information. I give it to you. But I don’t mind telling you that anybody that can stay in a rocking chair can sit that buckskin.”
    â€œThat’s fine. I’ll go out tomorrow.”
    Milk River put his cue down, frowning.
    â€œCome to think of it, Peery’s going down to the lower camp tomorrow. I tell you—if you got nothing else to do, we’ll mosey out there right now. It’s Sunday, and we’ll be sure of catching him.”
    â€œGood,” I said, and stood up.
    â€œYou boys going home?” Milk River asked his companions.
    â€œYeah,” Smith spoke casually. “We gotta roll out early in the mornin’, so I s’pose we’d ought to be shakin’ along out there. I’ll see if Slim an’ Red are ready.”
    They weren’t. Vogel’s disagreeable voice came through the open door.
    â€œI’m camped right here! I got this reptile on th’ run, an’ it’s only a matter o’ time ’fore he’ll have t’ take a chance on pullin’ ’em off’n th’ bottom t’ save his hide. An’ that’s exac’ly what I’m awaitin’ for! Th’ first time he gets fancy, I’m goin’ t’ open him up from his Adam’s apple plumb down to his ankles!”
    Smith returned to us.
    â€œSlim an’ Red are gonna play ’em a while. They’ll git a lift out when they git enough.”
    Milk River, Smith, Dunne, Small and I went out of the Border Palace.
    III
    Three steps from the door, a stooped, white-mustached man in a collarless stiff-bosomed shirt swooped down on me, as if he had been lying in wait.
    â€œMy name’s Adderly,” he introduced himself, holding out one hand toward me while flicking the other at Adderly’s Emporium. “Got a minute or two to spare? I’d like to make you acquainted with some of the folks.”
    The Circle H. A. R. men were walking slowly toward one of the machines in the street.
    â€œCan you wait a couple of minutes?” I called after them.
    Milk River looked back over his shoulder.
    â€œYes. We got to gas and water the flivver. Take yor time.”
    Adderly led me toward his store, talking as he walked.
    â€œSome of the better element is at my house—danged near all the better element. The folks who’ll back you up if you’ll put the fear of God in Corkscrew. We’re tired and sick of this perpetual hell-raising.”
    We went through his store, across a yard, and into his house. There were a dozen or more people in his living-room.
    The Reverend Dierks—a gangling, emaciated man with a tight mouth in a long, thin face—made a speech at me. He called me brother, he told me what a wicked place Corkscrew was, and he told me he and his friends were prepared to swear out warrants for the arrest of various men who had committed sixty-some crimes during the past two years.
    He had a list of them, with names, dates, and hours, which he read to me. Everybody I had met that day—except those here—was on that list at least once, along with a lot of names I didn’t know. The crimes ranged from murder to intoxication and