Ghostwalkers Read Online Free PDF Page A

people are a mess. Not exactly telegraph news. But I’ve seen ghost rock up close. Twice. It’s black with white veins running through it. It doesn’t burn with a blue light, at least not that I’ve ever heard of.”
    â€œYes, well there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio.”
    â€œThat’s from that fellow Shakespeare,” said Grey.
    Looks Away laughed. “A literate cowboy. I am in awe.”
    â€œA funny Indian,” said Grey. “I’m … I’m…” He stopped and rubbed his eyes. “There was a joke there but my head hurts too much to go looking for it.”
    They stood for a moment, looking at the smoking pile of rocks. The only sound was Picky munching quietly.
    â€œSo,” said Grey, “care to tell me about all this? Posse. Ghost rock. Explosion. Start anywhere.”
    Grey walked over to one of the boulders, reached behind it, and came out with two heavy saddlebags. “These no longer have owners.”
    He placed them on the ground, squatted down, opened them, and began removing tin cooking pans, a sack of beans, smoked beef, and a silver flask that sloshed when he shook it.
    â€œIt’s a long story that shouldn’t be shared when either hungry or sober,” said Looks Away.
    Grey smiled. “Fair enough.”
    They worked together to build a fire on the side of the rock pile farthest from the corpses. From the surviving horses of the posse they found enough water to cook beans and soften the beef, and even enough to make pan biscuits. As the sun tumbled behind the far mountains they settled down to wash badly cooked food down with even worse back-alley whiskey. As he drank, Thomas Looks Away told his story.
    â€œI grew up in the Sioux Nation, of course,” he said. “Learned all of the traditional skills from my father and grandfather, and from more uncles than I can count. Hunting, fishing, stalking, fighting. I even did some fighting with patrols along our borders. I’m sure you know how it is, old chap—in this world there’s always someone who wants what you have and is willing to take it rather than buy it or earn it.”
    â€œSo I’ve heard,” agreed Grey with a laugh. They tapped tin cups and washed that truth down with whiskey.
    â€œWhen I was about twenty, two things happened,” said Looks Away, drifting back into his tale. He removed his bowler hat and as he spoke, slowly turned it like a wheel, running the brim between thumb and forefinger. “First, I had a wee bit of a dispute with one of my cousins. An irascible fellow named Big Water. Hard words were exchanged, then there was a spot of violence, and, well…”
    â€œWhat was the dispute about?”
    â€œWhat else?” said Looks Away. “What do men always go crazy and fight about?”
    â€œGold?”
    â€œWomen,” corrected the Sioux.
    â€œFair enough.”
    â€œWe both liked the same girl. Big Water had land, horses, lots to offer.”
    â€œAnd you—?”
    â€œNot to be too indelicate, but I helped her get into the family way, as they say.”
    â€œ Helped? ”
    Looks Away gave him a roguish grin. “She was a very lovely and painfully naïve little thing.”
    â€œAnd—?”
    â€œBig Water took it amiss.”
    â€œAmiss. Is that where the violence came in?” asked Grey.
    â€œIt was. I left Big Water a tad dented and felt it was a prime opportunity to see the world. Which I did. I drifted east and in Philadelphia I met a chap who was putting together a Wild West show to take to England. Splendid little fellow by the name of Barnum. He made me a rather enticing offer and before I could say ‘heap big wampum’ I was on a ship to London. Spent many happy years there playing everything from the Noble Savage to the Wild Savage to the Last of the Red Men. Often in the same show. Along the way I took the opportunity to better myself