Arizona Wild-Cat (Larry & Stretch Western. Book 2) by Marshall Grover

Author:Marshall Grover
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: western ebook, piccadilly publishing, leonard meares, marshall grover, larry and stretch, pulp fiction western ebook, stretch emerson
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Six – New Strategy

Most of the town slept late next day. People were, naturally enough, tired out after their energetic enjoyment of the previous night’s function. Jay Endean arose at eight and took his time about bathing and shaving. At nine, he was eating a leisurely breakfast, attired in a richly-embroidered robe from one of San Francisco’s most expensive stores, when the door of his suite was pushed open to admit his scowling cousin.

“Why so gloomy, Ed?” smiled the blond man, as Larchmont slumped into a chair. “Not worrying about last night, are you? Quit fretting about those Texans. Nobody paid any attention to them.”

“You think not?” growled Larchmont. “Well—I am worried! And it’s high time you started worrying, too!”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that, just now, when I was coming out of the barber shop,' three different galoots up and grabbed me and started asking questions. Is Mr. Endean thinking of leaving town in a hurry? Do I think their money is safe with Mr. Endean? Am I sure there is a Taylor-Ames Corporation? Stuff like that!”

Endean put down his fork, raised his eyebrows, and said, “Well, well, well! So some of them did listen to those drifters from Texas!”

“It’s bad,” fretted Larchmont. “Make no mistake about that. I even heard that some of the citizens are going to keep an eye on the hotel, in case you try making a run for it—with their money. You have to face it, Jay. They just don’t trust you anymore!”

“So?” frowned Endean thoughtfully.

“You have to think of a way out of this,” growled his cousin, “and quick!”

“Don’t worry,” grinned Endean. “If I couldn’t back myself to out-think a bunch of rubes like these, I wouldn’t have taken this caper on in the first place. I’ll think of something. I always do, don’t I?”

The knock at the door sounded like the knell of doom to the quaking Larchmont, but Endean was not alarmed. The knock had been soft, hesitant. He jerked a thumb towards the door and said, “Open it, Ed, and let them in, whoever it is. And leave all the talking to me.”

Larchmont got up, moved over to the door and opened it, to admit a familiar Widow’s Peak identity named Hap Priddy. Priddy, like many of Endean’s investors, was a poor man, a menial who eked out a living as a swamper for the Salted Mine Saloon.

“Howdy, Mr. Endean,” he greeted nervously, doffing his battered hat. “I sure am sorry for bustin’ in on you while you’re eatin’.”

Endean rose and extended his right hand.

“Mr. Priddy, is it not?” he smiled., “I remember you well. As I recall it, you were one of the very first to avail yourself of my company’s generous offer.”

Remembering names and faces at a moment’s notice was part of Endean’s system. Larchmont never ceased to wonder at his cousin’s talent in that regard.

“That’s me,” nodded Priddy, lowering his scrawny posterior onto the chair offered him by his host. “I—uh—I invested twenty-five dollars with you, Mr. Endean.”

“Fine,” beamed the blond man.

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