Free Savage Thunder by Johanna Lindsey Page A

the Tombstone. Other strikes followed in the area, but Ed’s Tombstone was the one that lent its name to the town that sprang up around it in 1877. Four years later, the town boasted some five hundred buildings, with at least a hundred having been granted licenses to sell hard liquor, and maybe half that number operating as brothels and cribs on the east end of town past 6th Street, a small number really, when you considered the town’s population had grown to more than ten thousand.
    Colt made a habit of learning about a town before he entered it, and he had found out all he needed to know about this one when he had passed through Benson, just as he had learned enough about Benson when he had passed through Tucson. Seeing it for himself now, he could understand why a seventeen-year-old boy on the run toward Mexico might linger here awhile. It was where he expected to finally find Billy Ewing. It was where he damn well better findthe boy. After picking up Billy’s trail in St. Louis four months ago and losing it time and again, Colt was at the end of his patience and his temper. The things he did for Jessie…
    It wasn’t going to be easy, however, locating a seventeen-year-old kid in a town this size. He’d been told there were five good-sized hotels and six boardinghouses, but who was to say Billy would be using his own name? He’d also been told now was not a good time to visit, that the town was heading for an explosion of violence between the outlaw element operating in the area and the town marshal and his brothers who had been clashing and feuding for some time now.
    Colt stopped dead still in the middle of Toughnut Street, remembering that. Where had that piece of information gone hiding when he had spoken to the redhead? He had been heading for Tombstone with every intention of getting Billy out of there as quickly as possible, and yet he had steered a woman like that in the same direction. Had she shaken him up that much, or had he subconsciously wanted her going in his direction? Dumb, plain dumb. Now he’d have to see her again to tell her it’d be healthier if she didn’t remain in town for long. No, seeing her again would be even dumber. He’d send Billy with the message—once he found him.
    He urged his horse on, his expression black with self-disgust, seeing nothing of the town for several minutes until his senses returned and he realized he’d passed 3rd Street, where he’d meant to turn left. Fly’s Lodging House had been recommended to him, located on Fremont Street between 3rd and 4th, so he headed up 4th Street rather than turn around.
    The town was laid out in square blocks, with the intersecting thoroughfares being Toughnut, Allen, Fremont, and Safford streets running south to north, and 1st through 7th streets running west to east. Crossing Allen Street, he continued north up 4th, passing Hafford’s Saloon on the corner, the Can-Can Restaurant next to it, a coffee shop across the street. The variety of eating establishments was a welcome relief. Some of the smaller towns he had passed through were lucky to have even one.
    Most of the businesses along the street had vacant lots between them where he caught a glimpse of a stable he could make use of later. But he wouldn’t need it until after he was first assured of lodgings, and after he had covered all the other lodgings in town looking for Billy, so he continued on, passing a tinsmith’s, an assay office, a furniture store. Spangenburg’s Gun Shop was almost at the end of the block, then the Capital Saloon on the corner, where he turned left onto Fremont, heading back toward 3rd Street. Next to the saloon was the Tombstone Nugget , one of the town’s two newspapers, with the other, the Tombstone Epitaph , competing just across the street.
    He finally caught sight of Fly’s almost at the end of the block and nudged his horse a bit faster. It was too much to hope Billy would have a room there, so he imagined the rest of the day would