Edge: Arapaho Revenge by George G. Gilman

Author:George G. Gilman [Gilman, George G.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: LOBO Publications
Published: 2016-07-12T04:00:00+00:00

On the footplate of the locomotive, a man with a strong Irish accent exclaimed: "Holy saints, Michael, will you look at that!"

"So it's the chain stored up trouble for old number five-oh-one, Sean!" another Irishman answered.

"Can you fix it?" a harassed and impatient man with no pronounced accent called from the platform.

"Looks to have been the wrong size when it was new, sir," Sean answered. "Reckon we'd best change it."

"Do it then!"

"Surely, sir."

The buckboard with the stranger driving it was beyond the out-of-commission locomotive now. And in a railroad town where strangers were a regular occurrence he was spared no more than a cursory glance by the railroad men at the depot. Who had no time to offer a greet­ing. While, with a few exceptions, the people on the street who were converging into a group at the traders' wagon were equally indifferent to his arrival at Calendar. Townspeople and temp­orarily stranded train passengers alike, who probably would have failed to give him a second glance even if their attention were not in process of being captured by the freight wagon.

A man with a peace officer's badge pinned to the left pocket of his shirt kept a cautious eye on Edge as he steered the buckboard carefully around the rear of the throng gathered at the freight wagon parked out front of the hotel. A much older man with an unshaven face, almost no teeth and no hair at all divided his distrust­ful attention between the buckboard and its driver. While less overt in their slightly nervous interest—but clearly seen by the nar­rowed, ice blue eyes of the half-breed—were the two men who were the big attraction in town this clear, chill evening.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, fine people of this fine little town and you folks who have been forced to stopover here in Calendar while the train engine is repaired! And let me tell you right now, you'll all be thanking me and my partner before very long! And those of you off the train who've been a little peeved by the delay, you'll have reason to rejoice!"

It was the man who rode as passenger on the freight wagon who made the enthusiastic an­nouncement, standing up on the seat and using the tin megaphone to amplify his voice, swing­ing it from left to right so that his words carried to every part of the small town. And he seemed now to be ignoring Edge as his partner started to climb down from the wagon, smiling nervously as he requested the pressing crowd to ease back while he shot occasional glances over their heads toward the newly arrived buckboard.

"I'm Eddie Marx, folks!" the spokesman for the drummers went on. "And the gent stepping down to show you our wares is Jason Spenser! And like it says right there on the sides of our vehicle, we sell everything and we guarantee everything we sell! But we just have the one vehicle—at present—and so Jason and I have to restrict the range of merchandise we bring out on the road with us.

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