how that’s my horse, old timer, I’m going to offer you one hell of a deal. You turn him over to me and I won’t put this Winchester up your nose and shoot it until I run out of bullets.”
“Wha—?” The old timer turned to look at the horse. “I’ll be damn-fangled. This ain’t my horse, Boss?”
“You don’t say.”
“I do, I do. I’ve done you a bad thing. I’m right embarrassed about it.”
“Thought it was Boss, huh?”
“Looked just like him, and I’m old and I’ve been drinkin’.”
“Naturally you got confused.”
“Size of it.”
“I’d like my horse.”
The old timer handed me the reins. “I figure you don’t believe what I told you?”
“You figure right.”
“Well, all right, I was stealin’ the nag.”
“Not mining much gold?” I said sourly.
“I think I’ll go back to buffalo huntin’.”
“Best hurry, they’re getting kind of shy.”
I started to walk away, leading my horse. The old timer tagged right along.
“That’s true,” he said. “Used to be a lot of them critters. Wonder what happened to ’em.”
“It’s a mystery,” I said sarcastically. I stopped leading the horse. “What’s your name, old timer?”
“Honest Roy Chiders.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“No. I have this tendency to borrow things, so I sort of got this backwards handle. You know, they call a big guy Tiny, a fat guy Slim, a little guy—”
“I get it, I get it,” I said. “I bet you sell what you borrow, too.”
“I wouldn’t lie toou n’t l you. I do just that.”
I sighed. “Listen, tell me where I can sell this horse. I’ll pick up another when I leave.”
“I know right where to sell him. What’s your name, by the way?”
“Melgrhue,” I said. “Red Spot Melgrhue.”
“Come on, Red Spot. I’ll show you along.”
I scratched my beard. “You don’t know where I can get a bath and a shave, do you?”
Roy stopped walking. “Now what you want to do that for? Make you sick to wash off your manly protection.”
“The only thing this stink protects you from is mosquitoes.”
“There you are,” Honest Roy said sincerely.
3
I got rock-bottom price for my horse, even with the saddle and bridle thrown in. The blacksmith who bought him made a big point about how it was an Indian pony and the saddle was badly worn.
I made the point that the horse was well fed and in good shape, and that it was bridle-trained, Indian pony or not.
He still gave me the same price. I kept my blanket and saddlebags, and on the way over to the flophouse, Honest Roy told me that the price I got for the horse was what the blacksmith paid for all horses, except dead ones. And then he still got a good profit there, seeing how his wife, Pickle Nose Annie, ran a restaurant.
I made a note to mind what I ate in Deadwood Gulch.
I stowed the gear at the flophouse and went with Honest Roy to a saloon. Roy had promised to buy me a drink. The stuff tasted bad. It did not have the color of honest whisky.
“You want another, Red Spot?” Honest Roy asked me.
“This will hold me, Roy.”
There weren’t any tables, so we leaned against the wall. A few miners had some stumps pulled up around barrels and they were playing cards on those.
“Well,” Honest Roy said “if you won’t have a drink, that’s good. More for me.” He laughed at his own joke and went back to the bar.
When he got back, I said, “I’ve had it in here. I’m going to get me some fresh air.”
“Ain’t much fresher in the street,” Honest Roy said. “What say you and me find us a card game?”
“Go ahead. Somehow I don’t think there’d be much of an honest deal in here.”
“Not an honest game in the Gulch,” Roy said, “But I cheat.” He patted the .36 Navy on his hip. “And if they cheat…”
“I’ll just go out for some air, Roy. Good night.”
“Have it your way, Red Spot.”
Like most of the me/dist of tn in the saloon, I had carried my weapon in with me. So, I left out
“Wha—?” The old timer turned to look at the horse. “I’ll be damn-fangled. This ain’t my horse, Boss?”
“You don’t say.”
“I do, I do. I’ve done you a bad thing. I’m right embarrassed about it.”
“Thought it was Boss, huh?”
“Looked just like him, and I’m old and I’ve been drinkin’.”
“Naturally you got confused.”
“Size of it.”
“I’d like my horse.”
The old timer handed me the reins. “I figure you don’t believe what I told you?”
“You figure right.”
“Well, all right, I was stealin’ the nag.”
“Not mining much gold?” I said sourly.
“I think I’ll go back to buffalo huntin’.”
“Best hurry, they’re getting kind of shy.”
I started to walk away, leading my horse. The old timer tagged right along.
“That’s true,” he said. “Used to be a lot of them critters. Wonder what happened to ’em.”
“It’s a mystery,” I said sarcastically. I stopped leading the horse. “What’s your name, old timer?”
“Honest Roy Chiders.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“No. I have this tendency to borrow things, so I sort of got this backwards handle. You know, they call a big guy Tiny, a fat guy Slim, a little guy—”
“I get it, I get it,” I said. “I bet you sell what you borrow, too.”
“I wouldn’t lie toou n’t l you. I do just that.”
I sighed. “Listen, tell me where I can sell this horse. I’ll pick up another when I leave.”
“I know right where to sell him. What’s your name, by the way?”
“Melgrhue,” I said. “Red Spot Melgrhue.”
“Come on, Red Spot. I’ll show you along.”
I scratched my beard. “You don’t know where I can get a bath and a shave, do you?”
Roy stopped walking. “Now what you want to do that for? Make you sick to wash off your manly protection.”
“The only thing this stink protects you from is mosquitoes.”
“There you are,” Honest Roy said sincerely.
3
I got rock-bottom price for my horse, even with the saddle and bridle thrown in. The blacksmith who bought him made a big point about how it was an Indian pony and the saddle was badly worn.
I made the point that the horse was well fed and in good shape, and that it was bridle-trained, Indian pony or not.
He still gave me the same price. I kept my blanket and saddlebags, and on the way over to the flophouse, Honest Roy told me that the price I got for the horse was what the blacksmith paid for all horses, except dead ones. And then he still got a good profit there, seeing how his wife, Pickle Nose Annie, ran a restaurant.
I made a note to mind what I ate in Deadwood Gulch.
I stowed the gear at the flophouse and went with Honest Roy to a saloon. Roy had promised to buy me a drink. The stuff tasted bad. It did not have the color of honest whisky.
“You want another, Red Spot?” Honest Roy asked me.
“This will hold me, Roy.”
There weren’t any tables, so we leaned against the wall. A few miners had some stumps pulled up around barrels and they were playing cards on those.
“Well,” Honest Roy said “if you won’t have a drink, that’s good. More for me.” He laughed at his own joke and went back to the bar.
When he got back, I said, “I’ve had it in here. I’m going to get me some fresh air.”
“Ain’t much fresher in the street,” Honest Roy said. “What say you and me find us a card game?”
“Go ahead. Somehow I don’t think there’d be much of an honest deal in here.”
“Not an honest game in the Gulch,” Roy said, “But I cheat.” He patted the .36 Navy on his hip. “And if they cheat…”
“I’ll just go out for some air, Roy. Good night.”
“Have it your way, Red Spot.”
Like most of the me/dist of tn in the saloon, I had carried my weapon in with me. So, I left out
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