Buchanan 16 by Jonas Ward

Author:Jonas Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: colt 45, western series, stagecoaches, action heroes, piccadilly publishing, westerns ebooks, gunfighters and outlaws, william r cox, repeating rifle
Publisher: Piccadilly

James Brady said, “What do you do for excitement in El Paso, Mr. Simon?”

“Why—mainly I work. A little poker at times.”

“Poker. Ah, yes, the great American game.”

“The Cowboy Saloon has a special table for high stakes.”

“Do you fancy your prowess at this game?” Brady smiled, not a warm smile.

“I hold my own.” Simon was holding his ever-ready hot temper. “Would you care to indulge?”

“I think we understand each other so far as business is concerned. Relaxation might well be in order.” The diamonds flashed on Brady’s fingers as he finished his brandy.

“If you’ll excuse me a moment,” Simon said. In the doorway to the big room Slab Cider was beckoning.

“At your pleasure.” Brady poured himself another drink. Simon followed the giant out through a side door, across the patio in haste, asking, “What the hell?”

“Your half-breed,” said Slab Cider. “He’s got a wound, and he’s cryin’ for money, a doctor, the moon.”

Charlie Knife was in one of the rooms occupied by servants. His arm was in a rude sling. He stared at Simon and said, “I got to have money.”

Simon looked at the hard, obsidian eyes and took out a piece of gold and handed it over. “Do you need a doctor?”

“Si.”

“He’s scared of infection.” Slab Cider spoke softly as usual. “He’s got a right, I’d say.”

“See that he gets to a doctor. Now—what happened?”

“They shoot me.”

“And Buchanan lives.”

The eyes did not change. “For now.”

“We need a new plan. I’m talking to some people.”

Charlie Knife said, “You fix me. Then I take care of it.”

“Yes. I believe you.” Simon turned to Slab Cider. “I’ve got to entertain Brady. It’s a waste of time, but it’s necessary. You understand?”

“Very well. Shall I send Dingle to follow?”

“Yes.”

“Did I hear poker spoke of?”

“You did.”

“Best we should be along. The Cowboy Saloon?” Slab Cider asked.

“Yes.” There were many things to be considered. Simon’s wife had returned, but he had not spoken to her. There was pressure from several directions at once and he had to remain cool. He desperately wanted a drink, but he knew better than to take one.

He said to Charlie Knife, “You can stay here. We’ll make sure you are all right. But don’t show yourself.”

Charlie Knife grunted. He had no notion of showing himself in El Paso unless it was absolutely essential.

Simon returned to the main house. Brady was smoking a cigar, Buddha-like, impassive.

Myra Simon appeared, smiling, eyebrows raised. She had on a flowing gown of soft blue material.

Simon said, “My dear, I thought you were resting. This is James Brady from New York. ”

She extended a hand. “I’ve heard so much about you, sir.”

With the alacrity and grace of so many stout men, Brady was on his feet, bending over her hand. “Your beauty has not been exaggerated. How nice to see you.”

“Thank you, sir.” She curtsied, amusement in her eyes. “La, eastern manners. I do miss them sometimes out here in the Wild West.”

Simon cleared his throat. “Yes ... Well, I imagine you have much to attend to, my dear.

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