A Man Called Crow by Chris Adam Smith

Author:Chris Adam Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780719821080
Publisher: Robert Hale

CHAPTER EIGHT

JOHN WELDON

I walked into the welcome cool shade of the hotel lobby and asked the desk clerk for my key. As he handed it to me he looked over my shoulder, and I saw something in his tired watery, eyes that looked like they had seen it all before. I turned to see the Rocking J ramrod walking towards me and this time he was wearing a gun. He smiled.

‘Mr Weldon would like to see you, he is in room twelve and he asked would you like to join him for supper. He will be eating in his room.’

‘I already have plans for this evening.’

‘Would you care to tell him that yourself, please? He’s a kind of shoot-the-messenger man.’

He smiled and shrugged like it would be fine if I did and not too worrisome if I did not. There was something about the man I liked.

‘Sure, I’ll tell him myself, wouldn’t want to get you shot.’

Weldon opened the door, beamed that warm smile at me and held out his hand. ‘Come on in, Charlie, and thank you for coming.’ He turned to Keen. ‘Jimmy, get Charlie a drink. Whiskey OK?’

I nodded, watched as the foreman topped up a glass and dropped in some ice from a bucket by the small dining table which was set for two.

‘You will join me for supper, Charlie?’

‘No, thank you,’ I said, noting the disappointment in his expression, ‘I have a dinner date tonight.’

‘Lily Bouchard?’ He smiled. I did not answer. ‘Pity but maybe another time perhaps. You have time to finish your drink and maybe converse for a while?’ Again I said nothing but sipped the spirit, it was good, smooth, darkly amber.

The Rocking J owner poured another for himself and turned back to me. Keen moved across the room behind me to my right.

‘I don’t like people standing behind me,’ I said quietly.

The big man waved his hand and the light-footed Keen moved toward the door and I heard it close behind him.

Weldon indicated a chair and I took it, happy to get off my feet for a moment or two. I had been walking that afternoon, pumping through the sagebrush with a scattergun I had borrowed from Bouchard’s office and bagged a fat, wild turkey for supper. Wild turkey prefer to run than fly but this bird took off, bursting out through the sage and I dropped it with the choked barrel at around fifty yards.

I take no great delight in killing animals but recognize that someone has to kill your meat. The area was rich in game and I fancied that when the big dry was over, the creek would run with fish. A realization hit me at that moment out on the prairie that it would be a right nice place to settle down and the wrong place for a war waged by a man who wanted to buy the whole valley with gunfire.

Upon delivery of the bird and the return of the long gun, I had been invited for supper which was what I was auguring for anyway.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.