Zuni Gold (Gatling Western #1) by Jack Slade

Author:Jack Slade
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: western, action hero, gunfighters, western series, western ebook, apache indians, piccadilly publishing, zuni indians, gatling
Publisher: Piccadilly

The colonel woke up with a hangover, but his first words were, “Have you thought about it?”

Gatling said he’d thought about it. “You’re going to have to shave off your mustache and start wearing your glasses.”

The colonel winced and drank water from the pitcher Gatling had left beside the bed. “I’m the one with the sick head, but you sound as if you’ve been drinking. Have you? You haven’t! Then what’s all this rubbish about my mustache?”

Gatling said Yepomera was probably in Albuquerque and could tell the Trust what they looked like. “So could Colonel Maxwell at Fort Craig, but that’s a hundred miles from Albuquerque. Nobody knows what you look like unless Yepomera tells them.”

Colonel Pritchett brushed up the ends of his bushy mustache. “The sacrifices we have to make. I grew it as a young man to make myself look older. But I’ll do it—right before we leave for Albuquerque.”

Gatling said no. It should be shaved off as soon as possible. “Get out in the sun. You don’t want to have a brown face with a white upper lip.”

“Oh, shit!” the colonel said. “But I absolutely refuse to wear false whiskers that hook on over the ears.”

Gatling said, “I’ll be the one with the beard. Not a ratty stubble, but a fine, thick black beard. If somebody asks if you’re an Englishman, say you’re from Boston. They won’t know the difference.”

The colonel got up, pulled on his boots, scrubbed at his cropped head with a silver-backed hairbrush. “I want my breakfast,” he said testily. “Usually I breakfast on a bowl of oatmeal, two soft-boiled eggs, strong tea, toast with butter and marmalade. That’s when I’m in New York.”

Old age was creeping up on the colonel. Gatling hoped he’d be as lively if he lived to be sixty, not that he expected to last that long. Just as well if he didn’t. It must be hell to be old, to be laid low by arthritis, maybe bladder trouble, all the ailments that came with age.

Gatling made coffee and fried ham and biscuits and a whole mess of eggs. The Zuni chickens laid tiny eggs with a peculiar taste that took getting used to.

They ate in silence until the colonel broke it by saying, “You have a plan?”

“How can there be a plan when we don’t even know what Chumley looks like? Does he spend most of the time in Albuquerque, or does he travel a lot on business? How many bodyguards does he have? Does he have a mistress he visits regularly? How many partners does he have, and are they all as ruthless as he is?”

“Enough! How soon do we leave for Albuquerque?”

“In a few days. I want to teach Chaco how to use the Maxim. But you shave off the mustache today.”

“The hell with you,” the colonel said.

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