The Smoking Iron Read Online Free PDF

’em two days’ rest,” the stableman guessed unemotionally.
    â€œWe’re in a hurry to move on.”
    â€œSouth?”
    â€œTo Hermosa … if it’s any of yore damn business,” Pat grated angrily. “Have you got somethin’ to trade or ain’t you?”
    â€œIf you got enuff boot, Mister.” The stableman sighed and got up on his long legs. “My name’s Joe Baines,” he offered. “Right back here I got two hawses that’ll keep you ahead of any law that’s mebby on yore trail.”
    â€œWhat makes you think there’s a posse behind us?” Pat demanded as Joe Baines took a lantern from a hook and started back to the rear of the stable.
    Baines cackled thinly. “In a mighty big hurry tuh reach the border, ain’tcha?” He strode ahead of them with the lantern in his hand.
    â€œWe ain’t gonna pay no ten dollars to put up our hawses, are we?” Ezra argued in a loud stage whisper as they followed. “It’s plain out an’ out robbery, that’s what it is.”
    Pat said, “Let’s see how he’ll trade.”
    Baines acted as though he hadn’t overheard the interchange. He stopped at two rear stalls and held the lantern over his head. “There y’are fellers. Two hawses that’ll carry you far an’ fast.”
    One was a raw-boned black gelding and the other a tough-looking little bay mare. “They look all right,” Pat admitted cautiously. “What do you call ’em worth?”
    â€œHundred dollars apiece.”
    â€œFigurin’ ours in at seventy-five,” said Pat shortly, “that adds up to fifty dollars boot. Sounds fair enough.”
    â€œHundred dollars boot fer each hawse,” Baines told him in his sly drawl.
    â€œThat’s crazy. It’s a holdup,” Pat expostulated.
    Baines closed one eye in a slow wink. “Better think it over, Mister. Mebby you’ll decide it’s a bargain.”
    â€œTo hell with him,” Ezra said hotly. “Let’s get outta here an’ …”
    â€œWouldn’t want word to git aroun’ to the sheriff that yo’re mighty anxious tuh git fresh hawses an’ get outta town to the Border, I reckon,” Baines interrupted him.
    Pat started to say something but clamped his lips down over the words. After a moment, he asked, “Are you threatening to tell the sheriff?”
    â€œNot me, Mister. But word might git to him.”
    A short harsh laugh came from behind them and a voice asked, “You fellers strangers hereabouts?”
    Pat and Ezra turned to see a young man leaning negligently against one of the stalls. His thumbs were hooked in the front of a wide slanting gunbelt, and a black Stetson was pushed back rakishly from his wide forehead. His lips were twisted in a mocking grin and there was devil-may-care laughter in his gray eyes.
    â€œReason I asked,” he explained, lounging forward, “is ’cause I wondered if you didn’t know that Joe Baines is the sheriff’s brother-in-law.”
    â€œWe are strangers an’ we didn’t know,” Pat told him.
    â€œShore. Joe’s got a nice layout here. Fellers like you-all come ridin’ in a hurry an’ you got to trade with him … or else. See what I mean?”
    Joe Baines moved from around Pat and Ezra to confront the young man. “Git outta here,” he ordered venomously. “Shet yore loud mouth an’ git.”
    â€œWhy, no.” The youth’s grin widened. “I don’t reckon I will. Happens I ain’t ridin’ the owlhoot trail,” he explained to the two Powder Valley men, “so the sheriff don’t scare me none. Makes me sore,” he went on equably, “to see a couple fellers get stepped on ’cause maybe they’re in trouble.”
    Pat said, “Thanks.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “My name’s Stevens.