Gunslinger 04 by Charles C Garrett

Author:Charles C Garrett [Garrett, Charles C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: western, action, heroes, American, Old, west, westerns, gunfighters, Piccadilly, cowboys
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

HE WENT UP To his room and took off his jacket and hat. Then he washed his hands and face and pulled a square of waterproof cloth from a saddlebag, spreading it over the small table. He then set out his tools as neatly as a surgeon preparing to operate and settled down to cleaning the Sharps. When he was finished he checked over the Navy Colt, deciding against cleaning it. Instead, he began to make up cartridges. He took several sheets of heavy quality paper from the saddlebag and cut them neatly into rectangles. He used a crimping tool to fashion each piece into a small cylinder with one end tucked down, and filled each cylinder with 120 grains of coarse black powder before setting a lead ball in the open end. These he bedded firm with a pliers-like device. Then he applied a light coating of fine grease to each cartridge.

By the time he was finished he had one hundred rounds of .50 caliber ammunition and a hearty appetite.

He cleaned his tools and put them carefully away. Then he washed his hands again and changed into a clean shirt. He buttoned the brocade waistcoat over his chest and knotted a thin, black tie at his throat. He dusted his hat and set it carefully on his thick, dark hair. Before leaving the room he checked his waistcoat and jacket pockets for cartridges and glanced at the gold hunter. It was close on eight.

He went to the restaurant and ordered a meal. The beef hash stilled the protests of his stomach, and the coffee refreshed him. He went out feeling good: ready to put the first part of his plan into action.

The two doormen were on duty again outside the hotel, watching nervously as Ryker stepped out through the doors. He looked at them, tipping a hand casually to the brim of his hat.

‘Even’, gents. Nice night.’

He waited, forcing a reluctant response, then strolled away feeling better than ever.

The Lonely Digger was doing good business that night. A roulette wheel was spinning noisily at the far end of the room and the faro tables were all full. Seven separate poker games were in progress, and around thirty Chinese were slapping cards down or rolling dice. Ryker went up to the bar and ordered whiskey. No one paid him much attention except the bouncer, who glared at him and fingered the bandage wound round his neck. Ryker grinned and turned to the bartender.

‘Where’s Tsai Lu?’ he asked.

The man concentrated on the glass he was wiping: ‘She ain’t in.’

‘Why not?’ said Ryker.

‘I don’t know.’ The barkeep seemed nervous. ‘One o’ the other girls said her brother was sick, or somethin’. I guess she’s stayed home.’

‘Thanks,’ murmured Ryker thoughtfully.

He finished his drink and left the saloon. Finding the way back to the girl’s place was difficult and he asked directions twice from passing Chinese. They seemed reluctant to tell him but more afraid of offending him, and after a while he found the alleyway.

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