Read Online Hunt Angel! (A Frank Angel Western #5) by Frederick H. Christian - Free Book Online Page B

her
shoulder as she went down the stairs and into the dining room to
the right at the foot of the staircase.
    It was a bright, airy room with six
or eight tables spread far enough apart so nobody would ever feel
he was sharing his breakfast conversation with his neighbor. The
tables were all circular, and each had a small glass jug with
desert flowers in it. There was a big window with a square table up
against it looking out on to the bustle of Front Street. They sat
there and a tiny old Chinaman shuffled in with a platter of ham and
eggs, bread, coffee, cream, sugar and cups. He laid them all out
without a word, working in neat precise movements. Then he bowed
just enough for it to be seen and went out without a
word.
    ‘ Smells good,’ Angel said, leaning
over the food.
    ‘ It should,’ she replied. ‘I
cooked it myself.’
    Angel could see Dan Sheridan leaning
against the hitch rail outside the jail down the street. The
marshal looked relaxed, comfortable. Angel got started on the food,
asking the girl a question as he did.
    ‘ Two years come fall,’ she told
him.
    ‘ Tell me about him,’ he
pursued.
    ‘ Nothing much to tell,’ she said.
‘Dan had been kicking around since the end of the war, scouting for
the Army, I think, hunting buffalo. I think he rode shotgun for
Butterfields for a while, but I’m not sure if he told me that or I
heard it someplace else. He just happened along at a time when the
Flying H boys were getting a little too much for the town to
handle. Jock Mahoney, Johnny Gardner, Jack Coltrane who runs the
livery stable, some of the others, hired him as town marshal. You
know the sort of thing: keep the town in line but don’t stop the
boys from spending their money.’
    ‘ I know the sort of
thing.’
    ‘ I think the Flying H boys didn’t
mind. They kind of respected Dan. He never pushed them around. Just
kept them from going too far.’
    ‘ Until the Burt Hugess
thing.’
    ‘ Yes. Until then.’
    ‘ You think he made a
mistake?’
    ‘ It could be,’ she said,
tonelessly. ‘How’s the food?’
    ‘ First class,’ he said. ‘You’re a
good cook.’
    ‘ I know. I make good coffee,
too.’
    ‘ Then pour me some.’
    She poured more coffee and they sat
in a comfortable, companionable silence while he finished his food.
When he pushed the plate away and leaned back, she looked at him
for a moment, as though uncertain what to say.
    ‘ Go ahead and ask,’ he said,
smiling.
    ‘ You’re not supposed to be able to
do that, Angel,’ she said, softly. ‘Not quite so soon.’ There was a
breathlessness in her voice.
    ‘ Frank Angel,’ he said.
‘Twenty-seven years old. Born in Georgia, but I got most of my
growth not far from here. Fort Dodge way. I work for the government
- I guess Dan told you that. And I’m on my way to Fort Griffin.
That’s about it.’
    ‘ The Justice Department,’ she
said. ‘What does that mean?’
    ‘ Like I told Dan Sheridan,’ he
said. ‘It’s the government department that’s responsible for all
law enforcement in the United States. My being here, however, is a
pure accident.’
    ‘ You live in Washington?’ she
probed.
    ‘ Uh-huh.’
    ‘ With your parents?’
    ‘ No,’ he said softly. ‘My parents
died a long time ago.’ There was a far-off glint of old anger deep
in his eyes that made her regret her question. She filled the
silence with another.
    ‘ Nope,’ he grinned, his face
boyish again. ‘No wife. But I’ve got a beaut of a landlady. Her
name’s Mrs. Rissick.’
    ‘ Oh,’ Sherry Hardin said. ‘She’s
pretty.’
    ‘ Well,’ Angel allowed, ‘for a
woman of sixty-eight, she’s not bad. If you go for
sixty-eight-year-old women.’
    ‘ And do you?’ she asked with a
straight face.
    ‘ Pour some more coffee,’ he told
her. They were smiling at each other like fools and they both
realized it at the same moment, both knowing why. As the
simultaneous thought occurred to them they laughed out
loud.
    ‘ Aren’t I the