Benedict and Brazos 2 by E. Jefferson Clay

Author:E. Jefferson Clay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: action hero, us civil war, sheriff, western series, piccadilly publishing, the wild west, wild west fiction, gunfighters and outlaws, ebooks westerns
Publisher: Piccadilly

The hour between seven and eight was the quiet time on Front Street, the hour when the afternoon drum of boot heels on the sidewalks subsided briefly, before they would drum even more loudly than before.

It was the hour when the piano player and the percentage girls sat on the landings of the Rawhide and the Red Dog hoping to catch a breeze coming in off Whipple Creek. Faro dealers sat in their shirtsleeves before the lights of the saloons smoking and spitting and picking up the day’s gossip from the loafers who sat, smoked and spat along with them. The bright lights were lit in saloons, hotels and hash houses, while the stores and the banks and the business places went into darkness. It was the hour for Lars Lindgren to take his daily tub, and for Josh Kelly the storekeeper to have his customary two beers at the Red Dog and give Kitty Clare her daily pinch before going home to Mrs. Kelly who was cooking pork chops, black-eyed peas and marble gravy for supper.

A pleasant hour but over all too soon. The piano starts to tinkle from the Rawhide Saloon and answering music shortly wafts out from the Red Dog. The hash houses empty and the boardwalks begin to pound once more and a cowboy yips and gallops his horse down Main.

Another night under way in Harmony.

Hank Brazos locked the library door for Eleanor and passed her the keys. The girl was tempted to take his arm as they moved off, but restrained herself. She settled for stealing a cautious glance up at his big bronzed face and found herself thinking how strange it all was. When he’d followed her down Front Street that first morning, he’d represented to her all the harsh, violent qualities of the West she most despised. How quickly she’d come to realize that hiding behind that outrageous purple shirt and the homely face was a man of strength unlike any she’d ever met before. She knew that Harmony was divided in its opinion about Hank Brazos; they either feared him or laughed at him behind his back. She did neither. She simply felt she understood this strapping young giant who’d come stomping unceremoniously into her life, and knew she was going to miss him very much when he was gone.

That thought depressed her a little, but the mood faded after they had gone a half block. It was a sweet night, soft and velvety. It was noisy, of course, with the saloons going full blast and the men in from the ranches and Whipple Creek, yet still very pleasant to be abroad.

“Can you smell it?” Brazos asked her as they approached Frisco Street.

“Smell what?”

“Trouble startin’ in to burn.”

Eleanor looked about her. Only then did she become aware of the groups of miners from Whipple Creek lounging about on every hand. The miners watched them go by with sullen-eyed resentment. Few of them she knew even had the price of a drink, an obvious contrast to the pay night affluence of the cowboys.

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