The Last Renegade Read Online Free PDF Page B

man was interested in him. “Is there something else you want to ask me…” He looked around, saw the nameplate affixed to the wall above the agent’s head, and added, “Mr. Collins?” Kellen saw that the direct question gave Mr. Jefferson Collins all of a moment’s hesitation, long enough for the agent’s considerably sized Adam’s apple to bob once in his throat.
    “Wonderin’ if you was witness to the murder, that’s what I was fixin’ to ask. Probably would have gotten around to it by and by. Never seen much sense in rushin’ a conversation about dead folk.”
    “What do you know about it?”
    Mr. Collins gave up the pretense of sorting mail, pushed it aside, and folded his arms across his chest. He regarded Kellen frankly. “Only what came in over the wire. Precious little, but then the railroad plays its cards close. Probably same as you.”
    “Me? What makes you think I play my cards close?”
    “Nature of a gambler.”
    One corner of Kellen’s mouth lifted slightly, the hallmark of a thin smile offered most grudgingly. “So it is.” He watched Mr. Collins nod once, faintly, and concluded the agent was satisfied with his answer. “I suppose they told you the man’s name.”
    “Sure. There was a thought that maybe he lived in these parts, but there aren’t any Churches in town, nor any close outside of it. Strange that. Common enough name. You’d think we’d have one or two go by it. Got none.”
    “That does seem odd.”
    Mr. Collins nodded again. “Odd, too, that he’d be Nat Church. I guess just about everyone knows that name. Leastways I know it like it’s my own.
Nat Church and the Best Gang
. That’s a good one, maybe my favorite, though I sure did like
Nat Church and the Shooting Contest.
You read the novels?”
    “I’m familiar.”
    “He’s probably not the
real
Nat Church.”
    “No,” Kellen said dryly. “Probably not.”
    The station agent scratched the underside of his bearded chin thoughtfully. “Good thing. Hate to think of the real Nat Church comin’ to such an ignominious end. Doesn’t set right with me.”
    “Ignominious?”
    “Embarrassing. Means embarrassing.”
    “I’ll be darned.”
    Mr. Collins stopped scratching and placed his hand flat on the countertop. “What can I do for you?”
    “Recommend clean, comfortable lodgings.”
    “That’s easy enough. You’ll want to see the Widder Berry. She operates a fine hotel.”
    “I was wondering about private lodgings. A rooming house. I heard someone on the train mention Penny Royal. Does Mrs. Royal have rooms to let?”
    Mr. Collins chuckled. “There’s no Mrs. Royal. No Miss Royal for that matter. You misunderstood what you heard…or overheard. It’s the Pennyroyal Saloon and Hotel. Widder Berry owns the place. You can’t do better.”
    “I see. It’s a hotel
and
saloon?”
    “It is.”
    Kellen felt himself come under renewed scrutiny as the agent’s stare narrowed and several deep creases appeared between his eyebrows when he drew them together. “All right,” Kellen said. “That will be fine.”
    “Didn’t think taking a room above a saloon would much trouble a gambling man.”
    “Would you like to live where you work, Mr. Collins?”
    The agent surveyed the small office, his attention lingering on those parts that adjoined the front of the restaurant. The clatter and chatter from next door were hardly muted by the wooden walls. “Point taken. You can try the Sedgwick place. George and Amelia take on boarders, but they’re partial to folks plannin’ on staying a while. You aimin’ to do that?”
    Kellen ignored the question. “You said I couldn’t do better than the Pennyroyal. I’ll take you at your word. What about my trunks and bag?”
    Mr. Collins used his index finger to motion Kellen aside,and then he leaned a little to the right to look past him. “That’s better. Could not recall if you had one bag or two.”
    “One bag. Two trunks.”
    “You must be travelin’ for a