The Drifter Read Online Free PDF Page B

the drop-offs were hundreds of feet, straight down.
    Frank remembered some long-ago campfire talk about the town as he rode. He had forgotten it until now. The town had been established some thirty-five years back.
    Frank couldn't recall the original name. The Apaches had raided the tiny town and burned it to the ground. It had been rebuilt, and the Apaches had raided and burned it once more. It had sprung to life again, Frank guessed, when silver had been found.
    Frank had no idea where the name Barnwell came from, unless it belonged to the man who hit the latest strike of silver.
    After he rode for several miles on the twisty road the town came into view. A dozen or so stores had not been closed and boarded up: a hotel, a large general store, a saloon, a doctor's office, a barbershop/undertaker's, a livery, and several other false-front stores. On all sides of the town the hillsides were dotted with mine entrances and narrow roads, all leading down to the town and the mill. Frank stared at the mill for a moment. It was still operating.
    Frank rode into town, looking at the homes on either side as he rode. Some were very nice. Others were no more than shacks, thrown together. There were tents of varying sizes scattered among the houses and shacks.
    No one paid the lone rider the slightest bit of attention as he rode slowly up to the livery and swung wearily down from the saddle. He wanted a hot bath, a shave and a haircut, and some clean clothing; his shirt and jeans were stiff with the dust and dirt from days of traveling.
    â€œTake care of my horses,” Frank told the young man, handing him some money.
    â€œYes, sir. Rub them down, curry, and feed?"
    â€œYes.” Frank looked across the street. The livery was the last still operating business at this end of town. The reasonably nice houses across the street looked empty. “Any of those houses over there for rent?"
    â€œAll of them. See Mr. Willis at the general store, and he'll fix you up.” The young man pointed. “That one is the best. Its got a brand-new privy just a few steps out back, and the man who just left installed a new hand pump right in the kitchen. It's nice."
    Frank thanked the young man. “My gear be safe here, boy?"
    â€œFor a dollar, yeah. I can lock it up."
    Frank smiled and gave him a couple of coins. “See that it is."
    â€œYou bet, sir. I'll do it. What's your name?"
    Frank hesitated and then said, “Logan."
    â€œYes, sir, Mr. Logan."
    Frank walked up to the general store and made arrangements to rent the house for a time, after making sure the place had a bed and a cookstove. While at the store, Frank bought some new clothes: underwear, socks, britches, shirts, and a suit coat that fit him reasonably well. He took his new purchases and walked over to the barber shop. There, he had a hot bath and a shave and a haircut while his old clothes were being washed and his new clothes pressed to get the wrinkles and creases out. He also had his hat blocked as best the man could do it.
    Feeling like a new man, having washed away days of dirt and probably a few fleas, Frank walked the town's business district. The marshal's office was closed and locked, and showed signs of having been that way for a long time.
    â€œHaven't had a marshal for several months now,” said a man passing by. “Can't keep one."
    â€œWhy?” Frank asked.
    â€œThey get shot,” the miner said, and walked on.
    â€œThat's one way to get rid of the law,” Frank muttered, and walked on.
    Frank stepped into the small apothecary shop and asked if there was anything new in the way of headache powders.
    â€œYou got a headache, mister?"
    â€œNo,” Frank said with a smile. “But I might get one."
    â€œWe don't have anything new here. But I hear there is something being developed over in Germany. Supposed to be some sort of wonder."
    â€œOh. What's it called?"
    â€œDon't know. Big secret. Being developed by the