Slocum's Silver Burden Read Online Free PDF

bulls?”
    â€œBetter than that. You have experience out on your own. You ever work as a scout? I see by your expression you have. For the cavalry?”
    â€œOnce or twice. I also scouted for a government mapping expedition. Mostly, I’ve worked as a wrangler.”
    â€œLong days in the saddle, a keen eye for picking up a fugitive’s trail, willing to use your six-shooter—you’re exactly what Mr. Collingswood is in serious need of in a new employee.”
    They entered the lobby. A man behind a low desk looked up. He sneered at Slocum, but his expression changed when he saw Underwood.
    â€œAfternoon, sir,” he said. Slocum was sure he wasn’t the one being addressed.
    â€œAre they treatin’ you good, Jason?”
    â€œNot a bit of trouble, sir. You got another recruit? For the hunt?”
    The way he spoke put Slocum on guard. He looked at Underwood, who raised his injured hand so his index finger pressed into his lips, cautioning the man to silence. A broad wink completed the act.
    â€œGot it, Mr. Underwood.”
    â€œThe boss man in his office?”
    â€œHe is, sir. Go right on up. And thank you. I do appreciate you gettin’ me this here job. Without it, me and Mary Lou would be out on the street, starvin’.”
    Underwood made a vague salute that might have been nothing more than brushing a fly off his forehead, then moved so that Slocum had to dodge around him if he wanted to go back out into the street. No wrangler ever herded cattle with more skill. Ahead down a narrow corridor was a closed door with cantilever metal links that did nothing to muffle a coughing sound from the basement.
    â€œYou ever see one of these? An elevator. We don’t have to go up the stairs. We can ride in style.”
    The gate opened and a uniformed man stepped back to let Slocum and Underwood inside. Slocum hesitated.
    â€œGo on, John. It ain’t a jail cell.” This produced chuckles from both the uniformed man in the elevator cage and Underwood. “If anything, it’s a new way of freedom. It’s the future, or that’s what Mr. Collingswood tells me.”
    Slocum stood with his feet wider than normal. When the cage lurched, he took the acceleration by bending his knees. He reached out and steadied himself as the car continued its upward clanking journey.
    â€œGot a steam engine down in the cellar. Runs the goldangest series of wheels, gears, and pulleys you ever did see. Reckon they don’t have things like this out when you’re ridin’ herd.”
    â€œI’ve heard of these. I never saw one before.” Slocum tried to peer out and down into the cellar. Choking fumes rose in the shaft. Before he could clear his throat, the cage clattered to a halt and the uniformed operator pulled back the cantilever grate over the door.
    â€œWe’re here. Come on. Mind your step, wipe your feet.” Underwood chuckled again. “Just joshin’ you on that. But Mr. Collingswood gets testy if you track onto his fancy rug.”
    Slocum took in the surroundings, wondering what it all cost. The rug was intricately threaded and looked like one he had heard called a Persian. Oil paintings on the walls showed people Slocum didn’t recognize, but he liked some of the marble statues of naked women on low tables. Then he stopped at the far end of the hall where it opened out into a larger anteroom.
    Naked women chiseled from cold white rock was one thing. The woman behind the desk talking quietly with Underwood was something else. She was vibrant, alive, and so lovely Slocum wanted to reach out and touch her flawless cheek, just to be sure she was real. Her eyes were bluer than the sky stretching over San Francisco Bay, and not a single raven-wing dark hair was out of place. Around her slender throat she wore a single strand of pearls, but this was only a ploy to slow the dive of his eyes to the deep valley between her breasts. Her