Read Online Flint (1960) by Louis L'amour - Free Book Online

Springs was a low building with an awning supported by posts sunk in the ground. Wind and weather had battered the unpainted structure, fading the few signs and reducing the color to a nondescript gray.
    A half-dozen other buildings had gone up in the vicinity, a couple of which had been abandoned and now stood empty. The main station was occupied by the saloon, post office, and general store operated by Sulphur Tom Whalen.
    Sulphur Tom had his name from the dozens of stories he had to tell of his youth on the Sulphur River of northeast Texas and of such gunfighters as Cullen Baker, Bob Lee, and the participants in the Five County feuds.
    He was a tall man, his high, thin shoulders stooped and crossed by suspenders over a red flannel undershirt. He rarely shaved, and his sandy walrus mustache was stained by tobacco. For a man with so many stories of gun battles to tell, Sulphur Tom was remarkable for his own skill in avoiding trouble.
    His strict neutrality was backed up by a conveniently located shotgun which he had never used so far as anyone knew. Even when raiding Apaches came around he managed to remain neutral by offering them gifts of sugar and tobacco.
    As a normal thing three or four loafers squatted on their heels under the awning or, if the weather permitted, alongside the fence of the nearby corral. There, amid much smoking and spitting, they lied about horses they had broken, steers they had branded, and bears they had killed.
    Only two of the four were holding down the position outside the door when the man called Kettleman appeared. He came from the west and he was riding an old mare and she was walking.
    When the big man in the flat-heeled boots swung down at Horse Springs, eyes went from him to the ancient brand on the mare. The brand was a fair representation of a six-shooter.
    He stepped down from the saddle and, without a glance at the waiting men, went inside. Sulphur Tom had been at the door, but he retreated to his bar and waited. The stranger ignored the bar.
    "I'm calling for mail," he said, "mail and a large box."
    Sulphur Tom veiled his eyes. "Name?"
    "Jim Flint," he said quietly.
    Sulphur Tom had his head down, washing a glass, and he completed the job before he looked up. He looked straight at the newcomer. Guiltily, he averted his eyes.
    "Been expectin' you," he said. He went behind the barred window that did duty for a post office and took several letters from an open box.
    The man who now intended to be known as Jim Flint merely glanced at them and thrust them into an inside pocket of his coat. He looked around, then indicated some saddlebags. "I'll take those, and I can use a couple of burlap bags, if you have them."
    "Reckon I do." Sulphur Tom took down the saddlebags from their hook and from under a counter he extracted several burlap bags. His eyes strayed to the mare outside. "Unusual brand," he commented.
    Cold eyes measured him. "Is it?"
    Mentally, Sulphur Tom backed up. Whatever he was about to say went unsaid. His mouth was dry and something inside him felt queasy. There was something about the big man's expression that he didn't like . . . he didn't like it at all.
    Sulphur Tom indicated a box on the floor. "There she is," he said, "but you'll pay hell packin' it on a horse."
    Stooping, Jim Flint lifted the box easily and swung it to his hipbone. Then he walked outside and, taking the bridle reins, he led the horse across the street to the corral. Around the corner and out of sight of the corral he broke open the box and transferred its contents to the saddlebags and the burlap sacks. Loading them on the horse he walked back across the street and stopped again at the station.
    He put an order on the counter and pushed it toward Sulphur Tom. "Fill that," he said, and, turning, he walked to the door.
    The two men squatting against the wall were talking idly. "Folks say it's him, all right. Man! I never expected to see nobody like him out here! Why, Buckdun is a known man! He's famous as