Free Spanish Gold by Kevin Randle

the hallway. One side was lined with doors but the other was open so that he looked down into the saloon. The two men had pushed their way to the bar and had both ordered whiskey. The bartender was standing close, a bottle in his hand.
    They drank for a moment and then turned, looking around. Their eyes fell on the card game and they drifted toward it, watching as another hand was dealt.
    â€œHello,” said a voice.
    Travis turned and saw a woman standing in an open door. She wore very little. Her hair was tangled. She grinned broadly and touched herself between the breasts, drawing his attention to them. Travis tried not to look.
    â€œYou interested in some fun?” she asked.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen what you doing up here?”
    Travis tried to look beyond her, into the interior of the room. He could see a bed that hadn’t been made. There was a chest with a cloth on top of it and a china bowl with a pitcher inside it.
    â€œCan I get out through there?”
    â€œNow why would you want to do that?” she asked, grinning broadly.
    â€œThat’s all I want right now,” said Travis. “Can I get out that way?”
    â€œYou don’t mind dropping off the top of the porch, you can get out that way.”
    Travis started to push past her but she grabbed his arm. “You go into my room it’s going to cost you four bits.”
    â€œI just want to get out.”
    â€œDoesn’t matter. You enter my room and it costs you four bits.” She held out a hand, still grinning. “It’s four bits if you walk right through and four bits if you stop for a few minutes for a little fun.”
    Travis looked into her eyes. Hard eyes. Unfeeling eyes. She didn’t care what happened as long as she got her money. He dug in his pocket, found a coin and gave it to her. He held up another so that she could see it and said, “I was never here. You never saw me.”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t seen anyone in the last hour.”
    Travis nodded and dropped the coin into her palm. He closed the door behind him and moved to the window. As he reached it, he was aware of the odors in the room. It smelled like the inside of a lion’s den after someone had sprayed it with perfume. It was dark in the room with the shades drawn. There were clothes on the floor. Shoes near the clothes. And there was a playbill hanging on the wall announcing a performance in the opera house in Denver.
    Travis pushed the shades aside and opened the window. The air from outside seemed to be so fresh. He took a deep breath and then looked at the top of the porch. He climbed out, stood for a moment making sure that it wouldn’t collapse under his weight. He moved to the edge, climbed over the waist-high railing, and dropped down to the back alley. There was rotting garbage piled in it. The odor of it, and from the outhouse off to the side, overpowered the stench from the stables close by.
    Travis hesitated there, and then moved around the corner where he could look out onto the street. No one was paying him any attention. He slipped along the side of the building and then joined into the circulating crowds.
    Looking back, he could see that no one had left the saloon. Another couple of men entered it, but no one came out. He didn’t think the two men had spotted him. They had just wandered in for a drink. They hadn’t looked up at him.
    Travis hurried back to the hotel. He found Crockett sitting where he’d left her. She was staring out the window, not seeing much of anything out there. She was fanning herself with a piece of folded paper.
    Approaching her, he said, “We’ve got a problem.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI saw two men I recognized. I saw them in Sweetwater.”
    â€œThe ones who killed my father?”
    Travis studied her for a moment. He knew what she was thinking. She’d want to turn them into the marshal, and then