West Wandering Wind by Bill Garwood
Author:Bill Garwood
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-05-11T00:52:27+00:00
XIX
I got up late next morning cursing out Abraham for not waking me earlier. Scrambling from my rumpled bed, I washed and shaved carefully, then dressed in the very best duds I owned. The black velvet trousers and silk shirt I bought up at Los Angeles, were topped off with a gold-embroidered vest set with a swarm of small shining pearl buttons in several different patterns, including that of an eagle, or perhaps a California vulture, in full flight across the back of the garment.
Looking myself over in my washstand mirror, I decided that maybe I wasnât the caballero to end all such dudes, but I still came pretty close after all!
Strange to remark, I wasnât one bit edgy, but when I sat down to a late breakfast and heard the old hall clock boom out eleven times, my cup of coffee began to try to hop from my hands. I attempted another sip, then gave it up as poor business.
âWhereâs the alcalde?â I asked Abraham, waving off the little Indian and his coffeepot. âAnd by the way, why didnât you tell me Señorita Almada had closed the rancho and left the territory?â
âIâm right here.â Josh came into the room, dressed to the nines in his very best alcalde get-up: gold-encrusted jacket, green waist sash and flaming orange pantaloons, with his largest golden ring in his ear.
âWhereâd you come from? You look like youâre just in from some fandango, or been selling snake oil.â
âNever you mind about that! And I think somebodyâs said to beware of the sort of enterprises that demand new clothes,â snapped Josh, âso it looks as though weâre both mighty stylish for a funeral. I hope to high heaven that it wonât be yours. But you remember what I told you about any actual killing.â He tugged at his goatee, a sure sign he was on the prod. âAnd whatâs this about that hellcat of an Almada gal? Sheâs gone and cleared off?â
âYes.â I was short with Josh. I didnât take kindly to his language. âIâm going out to saddle up. Itâs getting on for noon, and Iâm not going to be late for that sidewinder of a diamondback!â
Josh followed me out back to the adobe barn, behind the casa, and pitched in with Abraham to help saddle up my mare. âHere, take this.â My brother handed me his personal silver-mounted pocket Colt with pearl handles. I stuck it into my sash, along with Powersâs Navy. The gamblerâs pistol was a .36 caliber, while Joshâs was only a .31, but two hands were better than oneâand maybe two six-shooters!
When I rode down Mason and turned into Calhoun toward the plaza, my eyes really opened up. The entire plaza and the streets around it were decorated fit for a fiesta! Red and blue banners looped across the streets between buildings, bunting drooped from the trees and a big American flag flapped lazily in the fresh breeze, humming across from the sparkling waters of the bay. The streets were crowded with natives and visitors from out in the country.
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