Blackshot Sixshooter Collection by Kurt Barker

Author:Kurt Barker [Barker, Kurt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Publisher
Published: 2017-12-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

The squat buildings of Dos Fuentes formed two uneven lines along the stretch of cracked, sun baked earth that passed for a main street. The harsh midday heat seemed almost palpable as the hooves of the mustang moved slowly between the gray, weather-beaten storefronts, as still and colorless as a daguerreotype. Despite the name, there was only one fountain visible anywhere that Blackshot could see; a bone dry wreck of broken, bleached stone that stood at the end of the street seemingly out of habit.

Rivulets of sweat ran down the thickly-muscled neck of the mustang as Blackshot guided it to the hitching post in front of a low, square building with a wooden sign reading “Oficina del Sheriff”. His eyes moved along the length of the empty street as he helped Georgia down from the saddle. It was siesta in the sleepy little town and nothing moved anywhere in sight, yet Blackshot could perceive an undercurrent of nervous energy about the place, like the ripples from an outside force troubling the placid surface of the little town. He shook his head; perhaps the heat was making him imagine things.

When they opened the door of the sheriff's office, a neatly-dressed middle-aged man that had been dozing in a chair with his feet resting on the small desk at the center of the room jumped up to greet them. His dark, sun-burned face was freshly shaven, his jet black hair carefully combed, and the hand he extended to Blackshot as introductions were exchanged bore a gold ring.

“A very pleasant day to you, señor,” he said, shaking Blackshot's hand warmly. Once he had released it he took up Georgia's hand and pressed his lips to the back of her gloved fingers. “And to the lovely señora as well. I am Sheriff Rudy Valdez, at your humble service.”

“Gracias, sheriff,” returned the beaming Georgia.

“We've come to Dos Fuentes looking for a man, sheriff,” Blackshot said. “Maybe you can help us find him.”

“I'm sure I will be able to help you,” the sheriff replied. He dragged two chairs from the back of the room and ushered his guests into them with the of scrupulous deference of a commoner entertaining royalty.

“He's a bandit that goes by the name of Mad Devil Jack,” Blackshot said. “I've heard he's been around these parts.”

The ingratiating smile did not leave the sheriff's lips, but the color drained from his face. “He is a very bad man,” he said in a strained voice. “Why would you seek such a man, and with a lady with you? It would be safer if you left him alone.”

“I know it, but I have my reasons,” Blackshot replied. “Have you heard anything about where he's been seen recently?”

The sheriff was silent for a minute, studying Blackshot's face with a worried eye. “I suppose I can tell you where to look for him,” he said finally. “When he is in the area his gang is known to stay at Casa Amarillo, an abandoned villa in the hills a few miles south of town.

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