Mazatlan (Gringos Western #6) by JD Sandon

Author:JD Sandon [Sandon, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Angus Wells, Cowboy Fiction, cowboys, Mexican Revolution, Piccadilly Publishing, The Gringos, Western ebooks
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 2023-05-31T23:00:00+00:00

Yates McCloud leaned against the side of the ramshackle old mining cabin and moved his tongue inside his mouth. It tasted thick and furred, like licking a dead cat in the dark. The knife wound in his arm throbbed. Only one way to cure it and that was by getting himself another drink, another good drink.

Up here in these goddamn hills, where was he goin’ to be able to get a drink?

He moved on shakily from one cabin to the next, arriving at the one where the rest of Dupré’s men were playing cards. He hit his fist against the door and it swung back. All five men spun their heads round fast, Texas John and Dusty Rhodes reaching for their guns and Dusty getting his halfway out of its holster.

McCloud waved his open hands and swayed slightly in the open doorway.

‘Steady, now, boys. No cause for that. No damn cause at all.’

‘That depends who the hell you are.’

‘Sure does.’

‘Ain’t he one of them as rode in earlier?’

‘Yeah, step into the light so’s we can see your face, mister.’

McCloud walked into the light of the kerosene lamp that stood near several small piles of cards. The men were either sitting on the edges of bunks or on the floor.

‘That’s one of ’em.’

‘Name’s McCloud. Yates McCloud.’

Dusty Rhodes still hadn’t moved his hand away from the butt of his gun. ‘You don’t say.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Well, now,’ Rhodes continued, ‘an’ are you one of them good ole southern boys?’

McCloud straightened up. ‘I’m from …’ he began, then stopped, staring at Rhodes as hard as he could. ‘What the hell’s it to you?’

‘Hey, now,’ replied Rhodes, sarcasm still strong in his voice. ‘That’s ain’t no way to talk at all. I thought you Southerners was nothin’ but good manners.’

‘That’s right,’ said Arlo Miller. ‘Real gentlemen.’

Texas John muffled a holler and rolled sideways onto his bunk, clutching at his stomach. Newcombe and Little Ben giggled and looked at the floor.

McCloud shifted sideways. He didn’t like the way things were going; didn’t like the fact that the one doing most of the goading had his damn Colt near enough drawn. But he didn’t feel he could just turn tail and walk out of there—and he did want a drink.

‘You come for a hand of poker?’ asked Will Newcombe when he’d controlled himself sufficiently to speak without laughing. McCloud shook his head.

‘Just bein’ neighborly, that’s all,’ said Rhodes. ‘You know how these Southern boys are.’

‘Look, mister …’ McCloud began, his voice tightening, but he was interrupted by a braying laugh from Texas John, who managed to roll clear off the bunk and onto the floor. That feat released a howl of laughter from most of the others.

McCloud shook his head, wondering what the hell he’d walked into. Then he saw the bottle of whisky over to the far side of the room, just standing there.

‘Hey! Say. I’d ’preciate a shot of that whisky over there.’

His words were mostly swallowed up in laughter. Only Will Newcombe heard him enough to understand what he wanted.

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