Devils in the Confessional (Western Sins Trilogy Book 3) by Channing Cornwall

Author:Channing Cornwall [Cornwall, Channing]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Novel Scheme
Published: 2022-04-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

The single road mining town was eerily quiet when the five riders traveled to the entrance. Buildings lined the main thoroughfare, assembled in haste with pre-cut wooden structures brought in on large wagons. It was typical of these temporary mining towns, and if they were lucky, most of the structures would hold for six months to a year before their shoddy and quick craftsmanship would deteriorate and collapse. Despite this, it was still more luxurious than living out of a tent or cobbled-together shack.

The previous days of rain were still evident in the deep brackish puddles in the muddy road. With each stride, the horses’ hooves squelched into the muck and made a loud sucking sound as they retreated. They rode beneath a sign that hung over the threshold into town, its’ chained hinges creaking in the wind. The large wooden sign was engraved with: Fink Mining Company: Opulence. At the very least, they knew they were in the right place.

Passing beneath the sign, they were quickly halted by two patrolling men on horseback. One was a younger man with blonde hair and handsome, sharp features. The rider beside him was picture opposite, a bearded man with gray flecks in his beard and a distended belly that led credence to an affinity for overindulgence in beer and food. “Whoa, halt and state your business!” The young blonde man said as they came upon Cullen, Sadie, and the others.

“Travelers, passin through, lookin for a bit of respite,” Cullen said.

The fat rider beside the blonde man gazed over the newly arrived visitors and grunted. “What’s that there nigger doin on a nag? The boy outta be on the ground, walkin with the rest of the animals!” There was a slight slur in his speech that suggested his indulgence in booze had already gotten the best of him that morning.

“It’s a free country,” Kemal said stoically.

“Damn shame what some folk do to their animals.”

“I reckon ye ain’t up on current events, fella. The war’s been over goin on sixteen years now,” Cullen said. “This man’s name is Kemal Hajara, and he is free to do as he likes.”

“Keemalll?” The fat drunk over-pronounced. “I thought they gave niggers American names when they came over yonder?”

“Are we going to have some kind of problem here?” Jacob cut in suddenly.

The blonde man gazed at Jacob in amusement, “That depends on y’all. Shut your mouth, Larry, before you fall out of your saddle and make a fool of the Coffin Killers.” When he spoke the name of the bounty hunting outfit his voice picked up a few octaves in volume.

Larry continued his blubbering, “I’m just sayin, this is our town, niggers ain’t as free as they-“

The amused mask dropped from the blonde man’s face and he whipped around to face his drunk companion, “I said shut your goddamn mouth! You fucking drunk ingrate!”

Larry flinched at the sudden outburst and slumped slightly in his saddle, his face burning red. “Sorry, Jack…” he mumbled.

The blonde man turned back toward their visitors with a renewed calmness.

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