Golden Riders Read Online Free PDF Page A

madness.
    â€œWhere’s my damn horse?” he asked no one in particular. His voice was thick and distant sounding.
    The sheriff stepped forward quickly, noting the empty holster on the wet man’s hip.
    â€œYou won’t need him,” he said. Expertly, he grabbed Foz’s shoulder with his free hand and kicked his feet out from under him. The would-be robber fell to the mud offering no resistance.
    As the sheriff bent forward and reached for the handcuffs he carried behind his gun belt, a townsman ran toward him from the alley behind the main street.
    â€œSheriff, quick!” the man shouted, seeing the man on the ground, the broken glass, the horse, the curtains at its hooves, “there’re two more down back in the alley. They rode headlong smack into each other!”
    The sheriff straightened from cuffing the downed outlaw and looked at the townsman Arthur Polks in disbelief.
    â€œI mean it, Sheriff!” said Polks, a middle-aged lawyer. “It’s the damnedest thing I ever saw!”
    â€œHa!” said Fehrs, “you didn’t see nothing—you should have been here.” He gestured toward the fallen overhang, then upward at the open hole where the window used to be.
    â€œEland,”
the sheriff cut in firmly, “stand here and keep a foot on this one.”
    â€œMe . . . ?”
the barkeeper protested.
    â€œYes
, you
,”
said the sheriff. “It was your loaded mescal that caused all this.”
    â€œBut what if he tries something?” said Fehrs.
    â€œLook at him,” said Sheriff Schaffer, nodding down at the hapless Foz Garlet. The cuffed outlaw babbled mindlessly up at the sky. His tongue wagged in his gaping mouth. “He don’t know where he’s at or how he got here.”
    As the sheriff stepped away and let the barkeeper plant his boot on the downed man’s chest, Merlyn Oates, the bank manager, hurried forward.
    â€œThank God you caught these blackguards, Sheriff!” he called out proudly. “Caught them right in the act.” He offered a firm smile, glaring down at the mindless Foz Garlet.
    â€œI understand they didn’t take any money?” The sheriff asked.
    â€œThat’s correct, Sheriff,” said Oates. “I have never seen such a fouled-up piece of work. It was hardly a robbery at all.” He looked toward the broken desk chair lying in the dirt a few yards away. “I suppose I can take my chair back to the bank, see about repairing it?”
    The sheriff considered his request for a second.
    â€œNot right now,” he said finally. “Better let me hold on to it for a while.”
    â€œFor heaven’s sake, Sheriff, why?” the banker asked.
    Before the sheriff could answer, Arthur Polks stifled a laugh and said, “It may well be
evidence
, Mr. Oates.” He looked the banker squarely in the eyes.
    â€œThat’s nonsense!” said the banker. He turned a glare to Schaffer.
    â€œAttorney Polks is right,” the sheriff said. “If it’s the only thing stolen, it’s
evidence
. Unless you want to see these men go free.”
    â€œGo free?” said Oates. “They robbed the bank!”
    â€œDid they
demand
any money?” Polks cut in.
    â€œNo, they did not, but they demanded I unlock the door to the teller counter,” Oates offered. “They held guns on me!”
    â€œDid they
take
any money?” Polks proceeded dryly.
    â€œNo, but—” The banker stopped abruptly, seeing where the lawyer was leading. He pointed a finger at Polks. “Listen to me, Polks, you slick-talking son of a—”
    â€œEasy now, Merlyn,” Polks warned. “You don’t want to start saying things about me that could cost you money should I take offense and pursue it—”
    â€œShut up, the both of you,” Schaffer said, fed up with them. He turned back to Eland Fehrs. “Keep this one pinned down.