Novel 1968 - Brionne (v5.0) Read Online Free PDF

about but himself, he might have stalked whoever it was who had shot at him, and discovered what lay behind it. As it was, the sooner he got back to the comparative safety of the train, the better.
    Skirting some barrels filled with garbage, Brionne found his way into the alley. There he hesitated, waiting to study the shadows. After a moment he started along, keeping to the deepest shadows, listening for the slightest sound. They made it to the back street.
    Light from several open doors made rectangles in the darkness. His eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and he studied the shadows. Crouching beside Mat, he whispered, “It’s the doorways and the shadows we have to watch, Mat. Keep a lookout for movement. Many a time you will see nothing until something moves.”
    Diagonally across the street was another alley that led toward the tracks. From where he crouched Brionne could hear the heavy panting of the engine, and the occasional calls of the men working along the platform. It must be almost train time.
    By now they knew he had left the restaurant by the rear door. If they were hunting him, they would be checking every route back to the station, and they were few. So far he had moved by the most direct way, and from this spot the most direct route was across the street into that alley…so they would not take it.
    Quietly, his lips close to Mat’s ear, he explained his reasoning. The boy was young, but the world does not always wait for the young to learn, and to Brionne’s way of thinking no time was too soon.
    Deliberately, he turned away from the street and worked his way with infinite care through the debris scattered back of the buildings. There were cans, bottles, old lumber, with here and there a fence to be crossed.
    They came suddenly to the back door of a honky-tonk, and Brionne stepped up and opened the door. For an instant he stood there, studying the room.
    Several card tables were busy, and there were half a dozen bartenders, although the evening was young. A red-skirted dance-hall girl with tawdry frills stood with her back to them.
    And by the front window, with his back to them, was the man from the Southern Hotel. He was watching the street intently.
    Brionne walked through the crowded room, still holding Mat by the hand. Just as he came up behind the man at the window, the latter started to turn. Brionne’s gun slid into his hand and the muzzle nudged the man in the back. The fellow looked around, his face sick with surprise when he saw who was behind him.
    “Going back to the train?” Brionne’s tone was polite. “This is a rough town. Maybe if we walked along together there would be less chance of trouble.”
    The man started to protest. “Now, see here!”
    “Just start walking,” Brionne said. “I have been shot at once tonight, and if anybody is going to try it again, we’ll let them shoot at both of us.”
    Slowly, the man edged toward the door, then stepped out. “I am a dead shot, my friend,” Brionne said, “so walk carefully. If you stumbled I might make a mistake and shoot you.”
    Scarcely a head turned as they left. Brionne’s gun was held close, invisible to the eyes of those who glanced their way. Their slow parade down the center of the street and back to the train was not interrupted. At the train, Brionne said, “Turn around, my friend. I want to thank you for escorting my son and myself. There is no telling what might have happened without you along for company. I wonder who could be wanting to shoot me? Have you any ideas?”
    “How should I know?”
    The conductor came hurrying toward them, but hesitated when he saw Brionne. “Better get aboard, gentlemen. We are leaving in a few minutes.”
    “Is everyone aboard?” Brionne asked.
    “Well…almost. There’s been some delay, but I’m sure they’ll all get here.”
    “Is it the gentlemen in the baggage car? Are they the ones who are late?”
    “Well, now…”
    “Let’s just have a quick check.