Fallon (1963) by L'amour Louis

Author:L'amour, Louis [L'amour, Louis]
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2010-12-12T06:26:19+00:00

Chapter V

Macon Fallon returned to his quarters above the saloon and put together a small pack. From Damon, in lieu of cash, he had a few days previously taken some clothing, blankets, and other necessities. Now he packed his clothing, his extra ammunition, the few toilet articles he used, and a couple of books he had found in the hotel.

Only when that was done did he go to the stable behind the saloon, where he watered the black horse, filled the manger with forage, and checked the horse's shoes to be sure he was ready for travel.

"When we go," he whispered to the black horse, "we will go fast and far ... and it can happen at just any time."

Uneasily, he paused in the stable door. Why not saddle up and go right now? Why wait for the chance of a big killing that might never materialize? He had escaped from the Utes as much by luck as by ability, and he had outsmarted and outmaneuvered Iron John Buell only with the help of his loyal friends. He might not be so lucky again.

The Utes were out there, undoubtedly watching the town, and Bellows was out there, too. Within the town there was unrest, and at least some people who disliked him. And there was Al Damon, his gun belted on, itching for a chance to prove he was a tough man.

Sourly, Fallon looked at the town. What was wrong with him? Why was he wasting time now on building the place? He had all the front he needed. All that remained was a sucker with enough money.

Yet that might take a long time and he was a fool to wait. He had a feeling his luck was running out, and it was the sort of hunch to which he had always paid attention in the past.

He went up the stairs to his room and looked around gloomily. It was empty as a barn ... no place for a man to live. And nothing for him downstairs but coffee and a talk with John Brennan.

He glanced at the two books thrust down into his unstrapped pack--purposely he had left it open for the last few items. He had always wanted to read more, but there had never seemed to be time. Yet he knew that was not true, either--there was always time. One simply had to make time, and there was always a lot a man did that was trifling and altogether unimportant.

Thoughts of the town crowded his mind. Red Horse was booming, and he had done this; but now he was impatient, knowing he should be on his way, knowing he had stayed far too long. He had the uncomfortable feeling that things were bunching up on him.

There was one thing he could do, and he did it. He put on his hat and went down the street and personally thanked each of the men who had stood with him against Buell and his crowd.

Al Damon was loafing in front of Pearly Gates' old place, now reopened as a saloon by a big burly man called Spike Maloon.

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