Free The End of the Trail by Brett Halliday Page B

trouble starts, you duck under a table.”
    â€œWill there be fancy women in the saloons, Dad? You know. The kind that take drinks an’ dance with the men?”
    â€œYou’re too young to talk about things like that,” Pat exploded. “You’re too young, by golly, to know about things like that. What’d your mother say?”
    â€œBut we don’t hafta tell her,” Dock said hopefully. “Gee, I reckon that’s Main Street right ahead. What’ll we do with the hawses?”
    â€œStop at the first livery stable we come to,” Pat said shortly. “Push ’em up a little right behind Sam an’ Ezra. They’ll turn in the first stable they see.”
    It was barely dark, and Fairplay hadn’t got started yet. Main Street was lined with saloons and gambling houses, all ablaze with light and ready for the night’s activities but it was too early for many of the miners to have reached town. A few bearded men sauntered along the boardwalks and looked curiously at the small pack-train entering town, but on the surface it was as decorous as a Saturday night in Dutch Springs.
    Pat breathed a little sigh of relief when Sam and Ezra turned sharply and rode in through the wide door of a big building with the sign LIVERY STABLE over the door. Maybe things weren’t going to be as bad as he had feared.
    He spurred his horse ahead on the left side of the street to turn the driven horses into the stable behind Sam and Ezra, and reined up in front of Sam who had dismounted and was exuberantly pounding a one-armed man on the back while they swore affectionately at each other.
    â€œLooky here, Pat! Who dyuh reckon I run into fust thing? Five-Fingers Martin! Doggone but yo’re a sight for sore eyes, Five-Fingers. How long yuh been in Fairplay?”
    â€œGoin’ on five years. Howdy, Pat.” Five-Fingers Martin was tall and flat-chested. He had a whisky-roughened voice and deep-set eyes. “You three still ridin’ on the tail of trouble, huh?”
    Pat swung out of the saddle and gripped his hand. “Just makin’ an early hunting trip into the mountains,” he grunted. “You run this she-bang?”
    â€œYou bet. Just a huntin’ trip, huh? That’s good. That shore is good.” Five-Fingers threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Ain’t sayin’ what yo’re huntin’, I bet.”
    â€œWhat d’yuh think?” Pat asked shortly.
    â€œWell sir, I reckon you didn’t know about the mine holdup last Saturday. No sir, I s’pose you’re gonna say news of that didn’t reach down into Powder Valley. Nor ’bout the five-thousand dollar re -ward neither. No sir. I reckon you an’ Sam an’ Ezra wouldn’t be int’rested none in that five thousand dollars.”
    â€œYou guessed right,” Pat told him. “Got room for ten hawses tonight?”
    â€œYou bet. They’ll get the best care in town right here. Just go right on an’ leave ’em tuh me. I’ll take keer of yore gear an’ see they’re fed. Well, looky here, won’t yuh?” Five-Fingers looked up at Dock as he rode in, and blinked in surprise. “This young-un with you-all?” he asked Pat.
    â€œMy son,” Pat said shortly. “We’ll mosey over to the hotel an’ see can we get a room.”
    â€œJest imagine runnin’ into ol’ Five-Fingers here,” Ezra chuckled as the four of them went out to the street. “Thought he’d still be in the Texas penitentiary.”
    â€œWho is he, Dad?” Dock looked up with sparkling eyes. “Was he in jail when you knew him?”
    â€œThat was a long time ago,” Pat muttered. “I reckon he’s reformed now. Didn’t seem to carry any hard feelin’s towards us,” he added to Sam and Ezra as they crossed the street.
    â€œNary a bit,” Sam said cheerfully. “Acted like he