The Devil's Snare by Tony Healey & Ralph Compton

Author:Tony Healey & Ralph Compton [Healey, Tony & Compton, Ralph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

* * *

The saloon’s proprietor, Brett McBride, laid on a somber wake for the Hart family—some food, beer and the best whiskey he had to hand. “I’ll cover any cost. Expense is no concern,” Myra had told him. After all, she would bury what remained of her family only once. The usual barflies were not in attendance. That had been her only stipulation: that the only people allowed there were those who’d attended the funeral or otherwise paid their respects if they hadn’t been able to make it. The bums who usually hung around at the saloon because they had little better to do were going to have to occupy their time in some other way.

“Old Lew can play most tunes,” McBride had told her, gesturing toward the beat-up piano in the far corner of the saloon. “Most it’ll cost you is drinking money.”

Lewis had been the resident piano man at McBride’s saloon for as far back as anyone cared to remember.

“He can play whatever he likes so long as he keeps the piano going,” Myra instructed him.

McBride dipped his head. “As you like. I’ll make sure he doesn’t play anything too rambunctious.”

The saloon was crowded. Myra thanked anyone and everyone for attending, knowing that engaging in small pleasantries would occupy her thoughts beyond the ceremony that had just been performed atop the hill. The hole containing the bodies of her family being steadily filled in with fresh soil. Bercow, the town’s undertaker, expressed his sympathies, and Myra thanked the man for a service free of hiccup or incident.

She poured him a glass of whiskey. “There you go.”

“Thank you kindly,” he said, eyeing the honey-colored liquid in the glass. “I haven’t touched a drop for twenty years. But I guess now is as good a time as any to indulge.”

Myra watched him toss it back in one go. She refilled his glass immediately and Bercow drifted off to mix with the others. Somebody sidled in next to her, and Myra turned on her heel with a smile on her face.

The man next to her picked up an empty glass. “Is there more where that came from, Miss Hart?” he asked. He offered her his other hand. “Forgive me. I’m Jack Denton.”

Myra tried to keep the dread out of her voice, to stop her vocal cords from wavering.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said, shaking his proffered hand.

“So is there?”

Myra frowned at him, momentarily confused. “Is there . . . what?”

Jack Denton smiled. “More where that came from.”

“Oh! Of course,” she said, pouring whiskey into his glass.

“Thank you kindly.”

Myra cleared her throat. “I didn’t expect you to come to the wake.”

“To honor the dead? Of course. I take it you know who I am.”

She set the bottle down. “Yes, I have heard your name.”

Myra felt her throat tighten, coupled with the sudden need to drink something—anything—to lubricate it enough to continue speaking. She poured herself a glass of whiskey and drank some.

“Are you all right?” Denton enquired. “Why not take a seat? I would imagine that today has been a veritable tornado of emotions, Miss Hart.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.