the Ghost Saloon and Other Stories by Neal Zach

Author:Neal, Zach [Neal, Zach]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Long Cool One Books
Published: 2014-08-27T16:00:00+00:00

***

Dude was used to the working hand’s ranch breakfast, prepared with love and cusses, and a bit of lard as some said, but Corbett’s didn’t suffer much by comparison.

After a quick trip to the privy, Dude came back in.

“Thanks, Marshall.”

“Call me Mike.”

“Uh—sure, but, uh, no one else does.”

“No, what’s wrong with them, anyways?”

“Ah…I don’t really know the answer to that question, Mike.”

Baxter grinned.

“Feel like going for a ride?”

“What—who—me?” Dude paused in the act of pulling his cell door closed from the inside.

“Yeah. Let’s go on up there and have another look at Lambert’s.”

Dude thought, why not? Baxter was itchin’ about something inside and he didn’t much fancy being cooped up all day. If the Marshall had to leave, he’s sure as shootin’ going to lock me in with a bucket of water, a dipper, and an empty bucket for a dump.

Most likely he’d be late coming back and I would be downright starving by then.

“Yes, sir.”

“All right.” Baxter unlocked the boxy floor safe, standing in the corner behind his desk.

It was not that there was any money in there, although it might be useful as such on occasion.

But they needed a place to keep people’s guns when they weren’t safe to be let loose with ‘em.

He spun the dial and Dude bobbed his thanks and licked his lips at the thought of fresh air and a ride on Duguello.

Baxter gave him back his holster and belt.

The Marshall had boarded Dude’s horse down the street, but the two men were soon on the trail up to Boscombe’s Camp, where the latest digging frenzy had relocated.

Lambert had been one of the first ones in, the first to claim, the first to show colour…the first to hit bedrock and the first to go broke. Why he stayed up there no one knew, but he made a small living working for Consolidated.

Talk was he’d be a foreman in another few years, but then Lambert wasn’t getting any younger either.

Dude, in appreciation for the Marshall’s trust and even friendship, tried to fill Mike in as best he could from what he knew and remembered of the fellow.

“Beautiful country up this way.” Dude’s sorrel picked its leisurely way along beside Mike’s old grey horse, Millie.

It was true, the bigger ranches were south, east, even west, sprawled across small valleys with grass and water. This was rugged. Here the ground rose and it wasn’t all grass and open sky, it was rock outcroppings, ravines, and yet there were trees here. There was even water, but not so much grass, and it probably wouldn’t be economical to raise cows.

Baxter listened patiently enough.

They said there was gold up there though, and that would be enough to draw a crowd.

Baxter nodded and smiled.

Boscombe’s was only about four and a half miles from town. There was one big rise, the steepest hill in these here parts. The trail, dry and sandy-looking, hooked left over the top and then you were going down again. Clear blue sky and the hot orb of

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