Slocum and the Diamond City Affair (9781101612118) Read Online Free PDF

crackers. He finally picked up his coffee cup when he was halfway through the first bowl of stew and savored the brew. Not bad.
    This midafternoon, the café had no other customers, and the waiter-owner struck up a conversation. “You all new in Tombstone?”
    They allowed as they were.
    â€œWell, we ain’t had a knifing, killing, or dog shooting in five days and counting.”
    â€œSounds peaceful enough.”
    â€œWait till tonight. You’ll think this is the Fourth of July. Well, Marshal White may keep it down, but when these Cowboys, as they call themselves, come to town, all hell will break loose.”
    â€œThanks for the information,” Slocum said. “We’re looking for a couple of stolen horses.”
    â€œThat can get you killed too, if the gang’s got them.”
    O’Riley started to say something and Slocum cut him off. No need to advertise that they were there.
    The man lowered his voice. “If I can help, let me know. I hate them bastards. My name’s Cox, Hamby Cox.”
    Slocum gave him a head toss for him to come closer. “You ain’t seen a fancy stud horse and brood mare come though here in the last few days?”
    The man shook his head. “But you come back. Next time maybe I can tell you who has them horses. I’ve got some good contacts.”
    With a nod of approval, Slocum said, “We’ll make it worth your time.”
    O’Riley nodded and looked as serious as he ever had since Slocum had met him back in Diamond City. He also paid for their meals, and they went out, mounted their horses, and rode out of town, heading for a ranch owned by a man Slocum knew.
    Jim Davis had a place between Tombstone and Fort Huachuca. When they reached the ranch gate, Slocum dismounted and opened it. He’d called it a Texas gate: juniper sticks and a wire loop on the main post and a pry handle to put it back. Mounted again, he led off, following two wagon tracks through the stirrup-high dry grass.
    â€œWhat’s this friend of yours do?” O’Riley asked, looking over the flat country toward the Huachuca Mountains.
    â€œRuns some cattle. He’s a good man.”
    They passed a windmill churning up and spilling water out of a rusty pipe into a large homemade rock-and-mortar tank. Some topknot quail scurried across the wagon tracks and went into the bunch of grass on the opposite side of the road.
    An adobe jacal sat under a few small cottonwood trees beside some pole corrals. A bowlegged man came out on the palm-frond-shaded porch and rolled himself a quirley. When he lighted it, the wind soon swept away the smoke and he studied them, finally nodding with recognition.
    He tipped his well-worn felt hat at Rosa. “By God, where’ve you been, Slocum?”
    â€œOver in hell checking on my friends. Jim, this is Casey O’Riley and that’s Rosa.”
    â€œWell, by God, girl, you’re riding with a tough bunch, ain’t you?” Davis said to her.
    His words brought a small smile to her mouth, and she aimed it at him. “No, they are good hombres, señor.”
    â€œYou can call me Jim.”
    She agreed and jumped off her burro. “How can I help you, Señor Jim?”
    â€œCome inside my casa,” he said, offering her his arm. “We’ll make them hombres some fresh coffee. You two put them ponies in the corral. Where do you hail from, Rosa?”
    She laughed at the big flirt. “A small village in Sonora.”
    â€œI’ve been down there many times. What village?”
    â€œLos Nigra.”
    â€œWhy, I’ve been there too. I bet I knew your momma.” Laughing, the two disappeared inside the jacal.
    â€œIs this a safe place?” O’Riley asked, looking around the greasewood-clad prairie like he might find trouble there.
    â€œYes, much better than Tombstone. Those Cowboys have ears that are too big. Clanton pays for information about threats to him or