The Flames of Alvorado (Black Horse Western) by Peter Wilson & Peter Wilson

Author:Peter Wilson & Peter Wilson [Wilson, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Robert Hale
Published: 2019-06-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Brogan unsaddled his horse, paid the livery stable man his dollar for the animal’s keep and strolled back to his hotel.

The long ride back from the hospital to Alvorado had taken him around the Big L ranch, and although there was little activity it gave him an idea of the size of the spread the McLagans owned. Nearby, there was a row of horses tethered to a rail.

Matt studied the scene. Alex McLagan was in a hospital two hours ride to the south; his young son Lance was at his bedside, so the only McLagan who could be at home was Roy.

The line of horses showed that he was not alone in the house, so Matt decided there would be better times to confront the man who had condemned him to three years of hell. He turned his horse and headed for town.

The sun was fading in the west by the time he bedded his horse down in the stable, and as he made his way along the street towards his hotel his attention was drawn to the noise coming from The Diamond Bar.

It had been more than three years between drinks and a man can work up a hell of a thirst in three years, so he pushed open the batwings and edged into the saloon.

Nobody took any notice of the stranger. They were either deep in their card games or busy fondling the dancing girls giggling in mock protest as they tried to dance on the low stage at the far end of the bar. He made his way to a vacant table in the corner of the room.

Matt ordered his beer and settled into the empty chair with his back to the wall.

He studied the faces in the room and allowed his mind to wander back to the days when he too would have been a saloon bar regular, playing cards deep into the night before picking up the prettiest girl he could find – and there were not many who were pretty, he recalled – before spending the night in some dingy bedroom.

He convinced himself that he had his reasons and they were not his fault. His mother had died when he was only 9 years old and his father, a failed stage company owner, had left him to fend for himself at the age of 16. Will Brogan had fled to Tennessee with the woman who had been in charge of his office. Her husband never suspected.

Matt found himself drawn into the company of shiftless young cowboys who were more interested in drink than work.

Then, by chance, he and the others rolled out of a saloon a lot worse for drink one afternoon and he had literally bumped into Katie Miller. One of the group – he couldn’t remember any of the names – had made some lewd suggestion and tried to follow it up by grabbing the young lady around the waist and pulling her into him.

Matt stepped in, dragged him off and sent him spinning into the dust.

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