Larry and Stretch 10 by Marshall Grover

Author:Marshall Grover [Grover, Marshall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: winchester rifle, texas stories, the old west, colt 45, the wild west, western pulp fiction, outlaws and lawmen, leonard meares, marshall grover, larry stretch western
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Who Served Supper?

Some eighty yards farther along the silent street, the drifters came to another empty barn. The roof and walls seemed fairly secure and the stalls reasonably comfortable. There was straw aplenty and, in a corner, a half-empty sack of feed. While Larry led the horses in and off-saddled them, Stretch found a pail and hustled away to fetch water. Bart and Tom lingered by the entrance, watching Larry and offering their comments.

“It surely is a ghost town,” mumbled Tom. “Speakin’ for myself, I’ll be a sight happier when Fortuna is a long ways behind us.”

“Who wants to spend all night walking the desert?” countered Bart. “Not this child. I’ll settle for a night’s sleep on a hardwood floor, with a roof over my head and no sand in my mouth. Fortuna is better than the wide open.”

“Well …” shrugged Tom.

“Besides,” said Bart, “we have to think of the women.”

“Quite a problem, those females,” drawled Larry. “But for them, we could take our chances of reachin’ Vine City with just two horses and all the water we can carry.”

“I keep thinkin’ of the rig, and all that baggage,” growled Tom, “back there by the dried out waterhole. And Elrigg and his lousy sidekicks—ridin’ our team-horses.”

“If I live to be a hundred,” muttered Bart, “I’ll even my score with that bunch.”

Stretch returned with the water and they looked to the comfort of the sorrel and the pinto while, in the hotel lobby, Lavinia and her daughters suddenly exchanged glances. A sound had reached them, a thudding, clumping sound, from out front. The elder sisters tensed, but Sarah Ann shrugged unconcernedly, and opined:

“It’s only the horses.”

“No,” groaned Lavinia. “They said they’d find a stable for the horses.”

The sound was repeated. Sarah Ann rose from her seat. “Only one animal out there,” she declared.

She strode purposefully to the entrance and, after a moment of hesitation, her mother and sisters followed. Crowding the doorway, they stared out at the animal standing on the porch, an ugly but placid-looking burro of indeterminate vintage. It came closer to the doorway, pricking its ears and returning their stares with interest. Lavinia snorted in disgust.

“A mule.”

“A burro,” Sarah Ann corrected. “There’s quite a difference.”

“How did it get here?” wondered Harriet.

“I guess it only now arrived,” shrugged Elmira.

“Maybe it’s been here all the time,” mused Sarah Ann. “Maybe it belongs to the man Larry spoke of—the old prospector who lives here.”

“There’s nothing human here,” Elmira shuddered disdainfully, “except us. There are ghosts and—and all kinds of evil things ...”

“There you go again,” jibed Sarah Ann, “with your talk of phantoms and evil spirits.”

“Don’t sneer at your sister, child,” frowned Lavinia. “It is unbecoming for the youngest daughter to show such disrespect.”

“She’s jealous,” sneered Harriet, “because Elmira is to be married. She wishes it could be her.”

“Be quiet, Harriet!” snapped Lavinia.

“I’m not jealous.” Sarah Ann showed them a wry smile. “Elmira is welcome to Orin Jaekle. I’d settle for a man like Bart Darrance.”

“Sarah Ann Newbold!” fumed Lavinia. “Have you no shame?”

Her voice had soared to full volume, startling the burro.

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