Read Online Killing Halfbreed by Zack Mason - Free Book Online

one thing for sure: This had to be the most confusing day of my life.  Last night, I'd sat in Cottonwood’s jail sure I'd never see another sunset.  I was supposed to be a corpse right now, swinging in the wind, but instead the local authorities had pardoned me.  I had no illusions.  I knew they didn't think I was innocent, but they’d freed me, and I was going to grab my second chance and run like the dickens.
    Still, the identity of the man they’d hung in my place had me completely perplexed.  Why had he been hung?
    That posse had set out hot on my tail in spite of the fact the sheriff told me I was free.  I supposed it could have been a trick on his part to get me shot instead of hung, but why bother if they'd already built the gallows?  None of it made any sense.
    Now some mysterious stranger was protecting me from that same posse.  God help 'em, whoever they were.
    A strange day indeed.
     
    ***
     
    I stood for a long while at the edge of town, staring at the dark water’s currents swirl and run their course.  The river was swollen from recent rains and spots of different sized pieces of driftwood and other organic refuse twirled and meandered jerkingly along its surface.
    I’d made it to Rio Perdido without further incident.  A large boarding house stood next to the river, along with the beginnings of a small town.
    Rio Perdido had a reputation as an outlaw hangout.  It was a good place to disappear.  No one asked questions here, and a posse would think twice before coming into this town looking for somebody.  Half the population might get the wrong idea.  That could start a little war.
    So, was I an outlaw or not?
    It wasn't every day a man had his life pass before his eyes so many times.
    The dark, grey waters passed swiftly.  The deep power of the river implied it could carry just about anything away.
    Maybe I ought to jump in and let it carry me away .
    The Spaniards had named it Rio Perdido, which meant "Lost River.”  Kind of a romantic name for such a bleak looking thing.  The world is kind of like that.  You grow up thinking it's some grand place, full of romance and adventure, when in reality it's just plain bleak.  Bleak and disappointing.
    Looking at the murky water flooded with debris, I thought maybe they ought to call it Rio Sucio instead.
     
    ***
     
    The tinny music, gay dancing, and bawdy lights would have been enough to make my head spin even without the high amount of alcohol in my blood.  The piano player was playing festive melodies, and he'd been going at it all night.  Saloon girls danced round and round with cowhands and outlaws, and who knew which were which?  Rio Perdido was also known for its dance halls and the girls that filled them.
    Me, I just sat nursing my sixth whiskey.  Tired of that, I jerked my glass up, downed it, and asked for a seventh.  The dizziness growing in my head hinted that standing up might set the room to spinning.  I was definitely past the “loaded” threshold.  My troubles melted off my shoulders like butter in a warmed frying pan, and I felt giddy with relief.
    I ordered another whiskey.  The room began spinning, and I hadn’t even stood yet.  Bliss turned to anxiety.  What if someone from the posse came in while I was like this?  They'd shoot me on the spot.  A desperate desire to escape and retreat to the safety of my rented room overcame me.
    I stood and took a step, but my legs collapsed from under me.  As the floor rushed to meet my face, I somehow managed to turn my head just enough to avoid a broken nose.
    A few people gathered over me, some laughing.  Were they trying to move me?  I felt a boot under my stomach, shoving me.  I couldn't really tell what was going on, every-thing had gotten so fuzzy.  Fuzzy!  Ha!  That was a good word for it!  Where was I anyway?  I couldn't remember.
    A couple of hands grabbed under my arms and dragged me across the floor.  I figured the arms must belong to the blurry,