Damnation Road Read Online Free PDF Page A

later.”
    They had paused on the landing within the iron cage. Gamble could see flat iron bars above him. Then he heard the closing of the iron grate behind, the jangling of keys, the turning of a lock, and then the swinging of a door.
    â€œWhat will happen to me?”
    â€œYou’ll recover, after some weeks,” Smith said. “Then you will stand trial. You might be extradited back to Kansas for the killing of Lester Burns, but it is more likely they will keep you here for the murders of the Jaeger cousins. You might hang. The authorities take a dim view of wild west shootouts on the peaceful and modern streets of the territorial capital.”
    â€œYou could have saved them the trouble.”
    â€œWhat, let you die?” Smith asked. “Sorry, took an oath against that. Also, it would have disappointed young Farquharson—he has inquired about your health so often and so regular that you could set a clock by him.”
    They passed into the jail, and the steel door slammed shut behind. They carried Gamble through an office area, where there was a desk and a couple of chairs, past a stairway that led to the basement kitchen, and to a grated door that led to the bullpen. The receiving area was separated from the bullpen and cells by iron bars that ran from the floor to the ceiling, and while a guard fumbled with a combination lock in a steel box near the door, forty barefoot men crowded forward and peered through the bars at the new arrival.
    â€œHello, Doc, who have you got there?” asked a wild-haired boy of twenty, jostling others out of the way to get a better look. “Is this him that killed the bounty hunters?”
    â€œNever mind who he is,” Smith said. “Just back up and leave him be.”
    â€œOh, it is!” the boy exclaimed knowingly. “Mister Jacob Gamble, the fiddling outlaw, of whom you have read extensively in any of our English-language newspapers published here in Guthrie, wanted in Kansas for the killing of the brother-in-law of the populist governor, and for various other crimes and misdemeanors from Missouri to Arizona Territory. Did you bring your fiddle with you?”
    â€œForget the fiddle,” another inmate said. “Does he have any tobacco?”
    â€œHe has neither violin nor tobacco,” Smith said. “Now, watch your toes while the door swings open.”
    As the guards carried Gamble into the bullpen, the wild-haired boy padded alongside.
    â€œReckon you and I are the two most famous guests of this institution,” he said with enthusiasm. “I’m Mickey Dray, and I’m sure you’ve heard of me, what with being the best horse thief in the territory. I was born out in the black jacks, and I can tell you I am one tough hombre, and they wouldn’t have caught me at all if I hadn’t slept too long one morning.”
    â€œBack away, Mickey,” Smith said. “He’s too weak to talk.”
    They took Gamble to a steel cage at the front of the bullpen, unbound him, lifted him onto the metal bunk. The guards left, but Smith remained, and pulled up a wooden stool. He took Gamble’s wrist and checked his pulse, then pulled back the blanket and examined the leg wound.
    â€œIt’s not so bad here,” Smith said. “There is steam heat and the temperature is regulated at seventy-six degrees. There is a hot water bath in the basement, and dinner is boiled beef, beans, and cornbread. It is probably better fare than you are used to, judging from your overall state of health. You’ll get the Methodists on Friday and the Salvation Army on Saturdays, if you are of a religious bent. Jailer Comley is a fair man and brooks no sadism from his employees, but will employ solitary confinement in a dark cell in the basement, when necessary, for hard cases. As jails go, it is not unpleasant.”
    â€œStill a jail,” Gamble said weakly.
    â€œBetter to reign in hell than serve in heaven,