Read Online A Tale Out of Luck by Willie Nelson, Mike Blakely - Free Book Online Page A

hear him say it was catchin’?”
    “The man’s an albino, Skeeter. You’re born with it. You can’t catch it. You saw him lead those mustangs right into the corral like he was a mother duck. And that’s working on his own. If we help him, I’ll bet we can get the mare back, and maybe catch El Grullo, to boot. I say let’s follow him. We’ll catch up to him and talk him into it.”
    Skeeter frowned. “Well, what about this Indian trouble? Do you want to end up like that scalped man?”
    “We’ve got good horses and plenty of ammunition. We’ll watch each other’s back, like we always do. Like brothers. Anyway, like Daddy always says, a man who fears Indians is liable to get snake-bit, and a man who fears rattlers is liable to get scalped.”
    Skeeter frowned. “What does that mean?”
    “Hell, I don’t know. Are you coming or not?” Jay Blue mounted his horse.
    Skeeter sighed in resignation and put his foot in the stirrup. “I guess I’ll take my chances with you and the mustanger,” he said, settling into leather. “The captain would just kill me if I came back without you.”
    “He’s liable to kill us both if we come back without that mare.”

12
    F LORA BARLOW’S SKIN smelled of her lavender bath oil and her patchouli perfume, but when she came down the steps from her bedroom and opened the back door to the saloon, the odors of tobacco smoke and spilt beer cut through the more feminine aromas and assaulted her nostrils. She didn’t really mind. It smelled like a pretty tolerable living to her.
    Looking to her right, back into the corner, she saw that the Double Horn boys had left a few shot glasses and empty bottles strewn around. One chair was knocked over. She had watched them play poker until about three o’clock, and then she had gone to bed alone. Dottie had stayed up with the cowboys, drinking and who knows what all. Flora did not run a whorehouse here, but Dottie was a big girl and if she wanted to make some extra pay that way, that was her business. Apparently, the Double Horn boys had all passed out and slept on the floor. She didn’t see or smell any vomit. Someone—surely Jack—had left five silver dollars on the table.
    Flora straightened up the mess in the corner, then walked to the double front doors with the glazed glass panels. Unlocking them, she swung them inward, propping each open with a brick waiting on the floor for just that purpose. Now only the swinging barroom doors stood between her and the street.
    Luck, Texas, was going about its normal midday routine. A few pedestrians strolled the boardwalks. A farmer and his wife drove by on a hack loaded with a month’s worth of supplies. The farmer looked longingly at Flora, then turned his eyes forward at the behest of his wife’s bony elbow. He cussed the mules and shook the reins. Flora smiled. She loved being the unattainable object of desire. Way down the street, past the farmer’s wagon, she could see three men riding into town. They were too far away to recognize, but they sat their horses like cowboys.
    The day had warmed up nicely following last night’s chill, so Flora decided she’d open all the windows and air the place out. Muscling the panes up on the west side last, she saw that those three riders had stopped to talk to Sam Collins in front of his general store, and now she recognized them very well. It was Hank, along with his top hands, Tonk and Poli. Her heart made a little skip, and she was glad she had her doors open in case Hank wanted a drink, as was his custom. She didn’t know how Captain Hank Tomlinson could get her all worked up just by riding down the street. She’d had her share of men, and she should have known better, but she couldn’t help herself when it came to the captain.
    She watched him for a moment. He was shaking his head as he listened to Sam. She could just imagine what the conversation was all about. She didn’t recall Sam being here last night, but the story of Jay Blue’s