Spanish Gold Read Online Free PDF Page A

he was about to strike. The other stood watching. Both of them wore guns though neither had drawn a weapon.
    â€œThe map, old man,” said the one with his fist raised. “Where’s the map?”
    â€œNo map,” said the prospector. “No map. I memorized it. No map. I told you. No map.”
    â€œLeave him,” said the other man, “He’s full of it. Just trying to scam drinks.”
    â€œNo,” said the prospector suddenly. “The gold is real.”
    â€œWell, hell, old man,” said the Kansan. “I was just trying to help you.”
    The first man knelt, his right knee on the soft, wet ground. He struck the prospector and the old man moaned.
    Without thinking, Travis stepped around the corner of the building. “Leave him be.”
    The standing man turned, reaching for the pistol on his hip. He grinned when he saw that Travis was unarmed.
    â€œShouldn’t give orders if you can’t back them up.”
    Travis didn’t move. He watched both the Kansans. “The old man is crazy. Let him go.”
    The man who had been holding the prospector up, dropped him and then whipped out his knife. He put it to the prospector’s throat. “Go or I kill him.”
    Travis took a step forward and then froze as both men moved to face him. “There’s no gold,” said Travis.
    There was a moment’s hesitation and then the man with the knife struck. He plunged the blade into the prospector’s chest. He straightened, the blade of the knife dripping blood. The Kansan grinned. “Now he lies to no one else.”
    With that, both men turned and ran down the alley. They stopped at the far corner of the building. One of them turned, looked at Travis, and then both of them were gone.
    Travis ran to the old prospector, trying to remember his name. He’d mentioned it the day before, but Travis was terrible with names.
    Kneeling next to the old man, he said, “Take it easy old-timer. Take it easy.” He pulled at the blood-soaked cloth so that he could examine the wound. It didn’t look bad. There was a lot of blood, staining the faded flannel shirt and dripping to the ground, but Travis had seen men hurt worse than that survive. Hell, he’d seen men hurt worse than that stay in the fight until the battle was over.
    The old man reached up and grasped Travis’s arm. “Thanks,” he gasped. “Thanks.”
    â€œGot to get you to the doc,” said Travis. He started to lift, to help the man to his feet but the prospector groaned.
    â€œNo. Too late. Too late.”
    â€œDon’t be foolish.”
    The man moaned quietly and closed his eyes. His breathing became ragged. He clutched at the dirt, his knuckles turning white. He opened his eyes and looked up into the bright blue of the morning sky.
    â€œYou’ve got to tell her,” he said.
    â€œTell who?” asked Travis.
    He grinned. His teeth were blood-smeared. Travis had seen that a few times in the war. It was always a bad sign. It meant bleeding in the lungs or the stomach and that the wounded man would live only a short time more. Maybe a couple of minutes or maybe a couple of hours.
    â€œThey didn’t get it,” he said. “I hid it. I know people. They think they can steal it and they will, so I always hide it. But now you got to take it to her.”
    â€œWho?” asked Travis.
    â€œMy daughter. It belongs to her now.” He turned and stared up at Travis, but the eyes were blank, like those of a stuffed animal in a museum. No life in them.
    â€œThe doctor,” said Travis.
    â€œNo time. Too late for me. You take it to my daughter and tell her to give you half. Reward.”
    â€œLet’s get you to the doctor and then we’ll talk about rewards.”
    The prospector coughed, spraying blood. His skin was waxy, looking unnatural, unreal.
    â€œMy daughter,” he said. “Stable.” And then his eyes glazed