Halfway to Hell by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 2024-11-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

Night had fallen, and the sound of laughter and a tinny piano drew Parker Jones toward the Golden Buffalo.

He pushed through the saloon’s flapping doors, and smells hit him, tobacco and booze, and the sound, too, lively conversation, the man in the corner attacking the piano like it had insulted his sister. Men drank and played cards, and saloon gals made their rounds, looking wonderfully garish in skimpy outfits and too much makeup. There was a good crowd, but no doubt it would get more crowded still, as the evening wore on.

Parker claimed some real estate at the bar and waved down the burly man in the apron.

“Haven’t seen you before, stranger,” said the barkeep.

“Just rode in,” Parker said.

“Ah, then you missed the excitement,” he said. “They captured some outlaws earlier. Well, maybe captured ain’t exactly the right word. Shot ’em all up pretty good, I heard tell.”

Parker’s ears perked up at the word outlaws. Was it possible Grady Jenks and his boys had made it back to Cheyenne? “Who was it, do you know?”

“Jasper Langhorne and his gang,” the barkeep said. “Some bad men. Jasper drank right at this very bar.”

“You don’t say.” Not Jenks, then. “How about a beer?”

“Coming right up.”

The barkeep brought the beer, and Parker took a long swig. To say it hit the spot would have been the understatement of the decade. He drank the beer in record time and made himself take the next one slowly.

He leaned against the bar, feeling good, and took a nice long gander around the interior of the Golden Buffalo. It was bigger and grander than Clancy’s back home, and big mirrors stretching up and down the walls made it look grander still. Light fixtures painted gold. An oil painting at least eight feet wide showed off a woman, naked as a jaybird, reclining on a chaise longue. She definitely caught the eye, although she was a bit chubby for Parker’s taste.

Whatever lingering whiff of guilt Parker might have felt leaving Annie and the professor to run off and have a good time vanished with the next beer. He struck up a conversation with a cattleman, and then had a short talk with a haberdasher. Seemed all kinds came and went in the Golden Buffalo.

The crowd had doubled since Parker had entered the saloon. Watching all the different people fascinated him. So many different types of—

He did a double take, eyes landing on a familiar face across the saloon, near the piano player. Marshal Tanner Best. There could be no mistake. What could that man be doing here?

The answer was obvious. He was on the trail of Grady Jenks. Maybe he was even looking for the gold. Surely, one led to the other. He screwed up the courage to cross the room and say hello to the man who’d saved his bacon back at Eiger’s.

Then stopped himself.

Best had put his arm around one of the saloon gals who’d been working the room. She had a mess of impossibly yellow hair piled on her head, and her bodice threatened to burst.

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