Under a Turquoise Sky Read Online Free PDF Page A

the other man.
    Bailey didn’t try anything. He placed his gun on the table gently and stood up. The two merchants at the table just sat back and watched the proceedings, wide-eyed.
    â€œI’ll come back for the guns,” Cafferty told the table.
    â€œWant me to walk out with you?” Clint asked.
    â€œNo, thanks, Adams,” Cafferty said. “You did enough spotting these two, and then saving my bacon when that one tried to go for his gun. I got it now.”
    â€œYou?” Anderson said, “No wonder you kept sitting out.”
    â€œLet’s go,” Cafferty said.
    The two men stood up and marched out of the saloon in front of Cafferty’s gun.
    â€œYou knew they was cheatin’?” Jerry Hill asked.
    â€œI caught on a little while into the game.”
    â€œAnd you told the sheriff?” Herb Olands said.
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œWell,” Hill said, “we’re much obliged, mister.”
    â€œDon’t mention it.”
    â€œBut…what do we do with their money?” Hill asked.
    â€œYou fellas split it between you,” Clint said, gathering up his own winnings. “After all, they took it from you.”
    He stood up, put his money in his pockets and said, “Good night to you.”
    As he left, the two men were divvying up the cash. Since it included the money from the two cheaters, it was probably one of the only times they had both come out ahead after a game.
    Clint went to the bar and the bartender had a cold beer waiting for him.
    â€œOn the house,” he said.
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œThat was slick the way you spotted those two,” someone came up alongside him and said.
    â€œThey weren’t being very subtle about it,” Clint replied. He picked up his beer and turned to face the owner of the voice. Earlier he’d noticed three girls working the floor—a blonde, a brunette and a redhead. The saloon seemed to like catering to all tastes. This was the redhead, the taller of the three, and the more bosomy. Much of her bosom was overflowing from the top of her green gown and he could see a sprinkling of freckles on the pale slopes.
    â€œAlso slick the way you drew your gun and saved the sheriff,” she said.
    â€œProbably saved him from having to kill that fella,” he said. “I think the sheriff can handle himself.”
    â€œOh, he sure can,” she said. “He’s been doin’ it for as long as I been livin’ here.”
    â€œAnd how long has that been?” Clint asked.
    â€œA few months,” she said. “Came in on a stage that left without me.”
    â€œAnd why was that?”
    â€œI didn’t have enough money to keep travelin’.” She put her hand out. “My name’s Shannon.”
    â€œSure it is.”
    â€œNo, really,” she said.
    He took her hand and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Shannon…”
    â€œO’Doyle,” she said. “And that’s real, too.”
    â€œPleased to meet you,” he said, releasing the long, graceful fingers of her hand. “My name is Clint Adams.”
    â€œI heard the sheriff say Adams,” she said, “but…Clint?”
    â€œThat’s right,” he said. “Is that a problem?”
    â€œNot for me,” she said. “But I imagine it can be a problem for you, sometimes.”
    â€œIt can be.”
    â€œWould you like to sit awhile and get acquainted?” she asked, touching his hand.
    â€œWould you like a drink?”
    â€œJust a whiskey,” she said. She looked at the bartender and added, “And don’t water it. I want to enjoy myself with Mr. Adams.”
    â€œClint,” he said. “My name is Clint.”
    She accepted her whiskey from the bartender, slipped her arm through Clint’s and said, “I have a special table in the back.”
    Â 
    As he walked across the saloon floor with Shannon on his arm,