Hawk 08 by William S. Brady

Author:William S. Brady
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: zane grey, louis lamour, the old west, western ebooks, george g gilman, james reasoner, piccadilly cowboys, piccadilly publishing westerns, angus wells, ralph compton
Publisher: Piccadilly

Linda Marlowe was playing the piano in the Grand Saloon, a cluster of folk gathered near, more spread over the large room, gambling, drinking, laughing, getting ready to do a little whoring.

Hawk pushed through the crowd with two glasses, a beer for himself and a lemonade for the lady.

He waited until the tune melted out on the final chord.

‘Tried to do this a few nights back,’ he said, coming up to her. ‘Maybe tonight I’ll have more luck.’

She sat round and her brown eyes gave him as much of a smile as they yet could.

‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘it’s time I took a break anyhow. Lydia’s got to earn her money same as me.’

She got up from the piano and the elderly woman with her gray hair in a bun and wearing pince-nez took her place.

‘Let’s sit down,’ Hawk said.

‘Of course.’

They went to the rear of the room and took an empty table up by the wall, close to the rear door. From time-to-time heads would turn towards them, mostly interested in Hawk, some of them wondering what Linda Marlowe, who held herself so high and mighty for a woman who worked in a saloon, was doing being entertained by a gunman. Even if the entertainment didn’t amount to any more than lemonade.

‘I heard you’d been let out,’ she said, sipping her drink. ‘I wondered if you’d have time to come and see me before you went.’

‘You wondered? Is that all?’

She looked at the glass of almost colorless liquid in her hands and said nothing.

‘Specially after you come to visit me in the jail,’ Hawk went on.

She moved a hand through one side of her reddish-brown hair. ‘That was only courtesy. Like I said, it was on my account you were there at all.’

‘I didn’t like that drunk actin’ the way he did to your song.’

She shrugged. ‘You get used to it. Expect it. In a way he was right. What I was singing, that wasn’t saloon music.’

‘It was beautiful.’

She looked full into his face. ‘Thanks.’

‘It seemed to have a lot of feelin’ behind it. A lot of meanin’.’

Linda shifted her eyes from his face. She pushed her left hand back up through the waves of her hair and set her glass down on the table.

‘When I rode into town you was out in the cemetery.’

Her eyes flickered, a beginning of agitation.

‘That got anything to do with the song?’

‘What do you mean?’ But her way of speaking showed that she knew.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hawk said. ‘I guess I’m bein’ too nosy.’

She nodded. ‘I think perhaps you are.’

Hawk leaned back in his chair and took a long pull at his beer. The off-key sounds of the piano cut through the crowd noise at irregular intervals. Linda sighed a little and asked him where he was going, what he was going to do. Hawk told her a little of what Travis McCone expected of him, merely the outline.

‘Isn’t that dangerous?’ She saw the obviousness of her question almost before the words were out.

Hawk nodded and shrugged and she said: ‘I suppose you’re used to danger.

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