On A Pale Horse Read Online Free PDF Page A

carry through with sufficient dispatch to extricate himself. His hotheadedness substituted nicely for courage.
    One shot was fired, and Molly screamed. Then Zane got his hands on the weapon and wrenched it away from the robber.
    “Pick up that wheelbarrow,” Zane ordered, aiming the gun at the man. He marveled at himself, for this was not in character for him; he should now be feeling weak with reaction. Yet the outrage he felt at the man's attempted robbery of the city's mascot drove him on. “Load the shellfish back on it.”
    “What the hell—” the man said. But when he looked into Zane's crazy-wild face, he decided to get on with the job. Clumsily he packed the damp, sloppy creatures in their places.
    “Now get out of here,” Zane said.
    The man started to protest. Zane's finger tightened on the trigger. The robber turned and shuffled away.
    Only then did Zane notice that the man had been shot. Fresh blood stained his jacket. He would need medical attention soon, or he could bleed to death. But of course such a criminal would not seek that sort of help; it would attract the attention of the police. He would probably die, and Zane could not bring himself to feel much regret.
    He jammed the gun into a pocket. He had never fired one of these things, but presumed it would not go off unless he pulled the trigger. Now he was suffering his letdown, for his violence came on him only in fits, and departed swiftly. “I'm sorry this happened,” he told Molly. 'This is a good city, but it has some bad apples."
    “I know not how to reward you, sir,” the ghost said gratefully. “You are so gallant.”
    “Me? No. I just got mad to see a woman mistreated, especially one as lovely and historical as you. If I'd thought about it, I probably wouldn't have gotten involved.” But Zane suspected he had been motivated in part by his loss of his romance with Angelica. He had had to relate to a woman somehow, so he had done it.
    “Perhaps if you should find my body appealing—” Molly said. She opened her motley jacket and took a deep breath. “I am a ghost, 'tis true, but I am reasonably solid when I go abroad at dusk.”
    Zane was amazed. She certainly had an appealing body! She had been young and full when she died, so had remained that way since. But the bitter and fresh memory of his never-acquired love balked him, and the suspicion that whatever had been decent in his action of dealing with the robber would be nullified if he accepted any such reward. “Thank you, Molly, and I do find you appealing, but I would not care to impose on you in that way. Surely you have a home and husband to return to in your realm.”
    “No husband yet,” she said sadly. “There are few good men in the neverland of—”
    Then a car turned the corner. The bright headlights speared the length of the street—and the ghost vanished. Too much modern technology was hard on ghosts.
    The car passed, splashing thin gook on Zane. Darkness closed again, but Molly Malone did not return. Ghosts were erratic, and the shock of the sudden light had probably disinclined her to risk this region again this night. Feeling let down, Zane resumed his walk home.
    There was an eviction notice posted on his door. He had not paid his rent, and the landlord had taken action. This was not a lockout, as the landlord was actually a halfway decent specimen of his breed. Zane had twenty-four hours to get out.
    Well, the Wealth stone would take care of that. It would soon generate enough money to catch up the rent, and then would proceed from there. He brought out the stone.
    The star did not show up well in the artificial light, but he could make it out. “Find!” he directed the stone, focusing his mind on overflowing coffers of golden coins.
    The star detached itself and floated upward like the flowing ghost of an arachnid. It traveled to the dilapidated dresser against the wall and squeezed in behind it.
    Zane took hold of the heavy piece of furniture and hauled