Ghost Warrior by Jory Sherman

Author:Jory Sherman
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780061983429
Publisher: HarperCollins

Zak threw his saddlebags on the bed, laid his rifle next to them while Vickers opened the door to Number 5.

“Jeff, come on over once you get settled,” Zak said, having left his door open. He slipped his key in his pocket and sat in a chair. There was a window that gave him a view of the Taos road and the Sangre de Cristo range, with its snowcapped peaks shining alabaster white in the sun.

When Jeff came in, devoid of his saddlebags and rifle, Zak told him to close the door and waved him to a chair. There were two chairs in the room, a small table, a chest of drawers, and pegs on the wall that served as a wardrobe. There were painted pictures of desert flowers and a golden eagle on two of the walls.

“Looks like we passed muster,” Jeff said. “At least with Pete Carmody.”

“He sure is spooning honey on our biscuits,” Zak said.

“What do you make of Zigler?”

“Don’t turn your back on either one of them,” Zak said.

“So, now what? We going to the Silver Cup tonight?”

“I’m curious about Leo Biederman. I got the impression that he’s recruiting men—gunmen—for something. And I’ve got an idea what he’s after.”

“You do?”

“I’ll keep it myself for now, Jeff. I just wanted to give you a warning.”

“A warning?”

“Ever been to San Francisco or Monterey?”

Vickers shook his head.

“When a ship docks, say from China or Japan or India, sometimes the sailors jump ship in port. When that captain has to sail again, he gets his crew from the saloons along the waterfront. Old Chinese practice.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“They put knockout drops in a man’s whiskey, or club him with belaying pins in an alley if he’s had a snootful. And then they carry these poor jaspers onboard ship just before they sail. When the poor bastards wake up, they’re far out at sea and won’t see land again for many months. They call this practice ‘shanghai.’ When they shanghai you, you’re virtually a prisoner of the captain and the vessel.”

“Why are you telling me this, Zak?”

“If you drink whiskey tonight, don’t swallow a mouthful with the first swig. Let the whiskey trickle past your lips. If your lips tingle a little or you feel like you have a thistle in your mouth, don’t drink any more. Just pretend, and pour the whiskey into your boot.”

“You think they might try to shanghai us?” Jeff said.

“I mean, keep your wits about you. Let me do most of the talking. You do all the listening.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Vickers joked.

“Ever been to Shanghai, Jeff? Me, neither. And let’s not go there tonight.”

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