Spanish Gold Read Online Free PDF

over.
    Travis stared down at him and knew that he was dead. He’d seen enough men die to know when it happened.
    He laid the man’s head back into the dirt and then tried to close the eyes. He stood up and turned. There were two men and a woman standing at the end of the alley looking at him.
    â€œWhat happened?” asked one of the men.
    â€œGet the marshal,” said Travis. “This man has been murdered.”

Chapter Five
Sweetwater, Texas
August 7, 1863
    Travis stood looking out the marshal’s window, watching as the streets filled with people. There were those standing outside the saloon, waiting to enter, and those who were at the feed store and those at the general store. There was a kid chasing a dog and a man with a rake trying to clean the street, sweeping the manure up under the boardwalks and out of the way.
    â€œYou don’t know who the men were?” asked the marshal.
    Travis turned. ‘They were in the saloon yesterday. First time I ever saw them.”
    â€œI doubt they’ll be back,” he said.
    Travis nodded. He moved toward the desk. A small desk pushed back against the wall. There was a cabinet over it holding a rack of rifles, a chain through their triggerguards. A pot bellied stove stood in the corner with a coffee pot on it, but it didn’t look as if either had been used in a long time.
    â€œMan said that he had a daughter, but I don’t know her name or where to find her. He asked me to take his belongings to her.”
    â€œYou inclined to do it?”
    Travis shrugged. “I’ve nothing better to do except that I don’t know who she is.”
    â€œMan’s name,” said the marshal, “was Crockett. . . ”
    â€œThat’s right,” said Travis, remembering. “Caleb Crockett.”
    The marshal bent and lifted a well-worn saddlebag to the top of his desk. “This is all the old man had except for his mule over in the stable. I guess it all belongs to the daughter now.”
    Travis nodded at it. “Any clue about where she might be?”
    â€œHammetsville. A little town about fifty miles from here. Not much more than a stage stop.” The marshal pushed a leatherbound book from the saddlebag. “Name’s in here.”
    Travis rubbed a hand over his face. He glanced at the saddlebags and then thought of the old man in the street, dying because he had told a story of Spanish gold. He touched the soft leather. “I’ll take it to her.”
    â€œNot much here. An old shirt, a knife, and some papers. And the book.” The marshal looked up at Travis. “A lifetime of work and it can be stuffed into one small bag.”
    â€œThere is the daughter,” said Travis.
    â€œThere is that,” replied the marshal. He pushed the saddlebag across the desk. “When do you think you’ll be leaving? Today?”
    â€œThere some hurry?”
    The marshal narrowed his eyes. “We haven’t had much trouble around here lately.”
    Travis understood, though he didn’t like it. He’d only found the results. He hadn’t starting anything, but then the marshal was just protecting his job. Get everyone out of town except those who belong and things would continue to run smoothly.
    â€œAs soon as I get my gear at the hotel, I’ll be gone.”
    The marshal grinned, nodded, and stood. He held out a hand. “We’re delighted that you visited our town. Please come back soon.” He did not sound sincere.
    Jake Freeman stood on a ridge just outside of town. The sun was hot on his back and he held one hand up to shade his eyes from the brightness of the desert around him. Behind him Matthew Crosby sat on one horse and held the reins of the second. He had pulled his hat down low and had closed his eyes against the brightness.
    â€œCan’t see the son of a bitch,” said Freeman. “Went into the marshal’s office and hasn’t come